23. Are You Drunk?

Chapter 23

Are You Drunk?

MEGAN

I usually stay away from champagne, but this entire day has been like something out of a dreamy Netflix special, and I want to indulge. Suddenly, my boss is no longer this fearsome entity. He seems almost human with flesh and bones and... feelings.

I've never seen this side of him, not that I've known him for that long. But this past month, every time I have interacted with him, I've never felt that I can ever stand on the same footing as him.

However, right now, as the bubbly champagne flows through my bloodstream and straight to my sensory zones, I feel light.

Hunter Middleton isn't that bad.

I mean, he's violent, and he shoots people without considering the gravity of his deeds, but then I come from a household where violence against me was commonplace. He's been arrogant, bossy, and maybe even a bit nasty at times, but then he's also protected me. But at least he doesn't hurt me.

During the candlelight dinner that he's arranged, I wonder if all of this was just a plan to get me into bed. Something inside me stirs in warning at the thought, but I push it away, feeling pleasantly inebriated because I'm not going to lie–it's nice to be wanted by someone like him. Hell, it's nice to be wanted, period.

When was the last time I had sex?

I don't even remember.

But the more I look at Mr. Middleton, the more I wonder if it would be such a bad idea. How many men am I going to meet who are going to whisk me away for a trip to Paris just because?

Being here in this city is like a dream come true, and even if he walks away from me after one magical night in bed, I could treat it like another part of the Paris experience. As long as I remain professional afterward, he wouldn't have any reason to throw me away. This is why when I fall into his lap, I decide to make myself comfortable. My head feels loopy, and I'm not completely drunk, just tipsy enough to misplace my filter.

Mr. Middleton is watching me with a wary gaze as if he doesn't quite know what to make of me. It's a different look on him. He's always so confident and so sure of himself that seeing him like this is interesting.

I don't care if he throws me away after this. I'm a survivor. I've survived worse things than being tossed aside after a one-night stand. And I make no qualms about letting him know this.

His large hands are around my waist, holding me, and his grip is firm, and all I can think about is how good his hands would feel on my bare skin. I bet those hands aren't just good at pulling a trigger; I bet those big ole' hands are magic hands. I wonder how fast he can make me come with them?

I giggle to myself.

French champagne is a hell of a beverage.

I can tell that Mr. Middleton is being cautious with me right now, but it's his reluctance and my growing desire for him that makes me want to see how far I can push him.

"I really want you to fuck me."

I whisper the champagne-laced words into his ear, and my eyes close in wicked satisfaction when his hands tighten around my waist, a low growl leaving his chest,

"Megan."

"What?" I ask innocently, pulling away and looking at him.

However, I feel my smile slipping when I glimpse the heat in those smoldering eyes of his. I'm treading dangerous waters.

"You're pushing it," he says harshly, but even as he says it, I can feel his fingers digging into the side of my waist.

I shrug, leaning forward. "I want what I want."

"And what about the consequences?" he asks thickly.

This time, I brush my lips against his.

"What happens in Paris stays in Paris," I whisper, ignoring the warning bells ringing in the back of my head. "Right?"

He doesn't say anything, letting me kiss him softly.

His eyes are still open, watching me, but I don't care.

"How drunk are you?" His question has an air of finality.

I smile almost sinisterly. "Enough to know what I want, Mr. Middleton."

His jaw tightens, and he removes one hand from my waist, running it up my spine. I shift at the sudden sensation of his touch. My lips part in a quiet gasp as his hand finds its way into my hair, and he yanks my head back roughly, forcing me to look at the ceiling, his hot mouth trailing against my neck as he whispers, "It's Hunter, not Mr. Middleton. But since you like saying it so much, you can call me Mr. Middleton when I have you under my desk at the Blue Whiskey, sucking my cock."

Wetness floods my panties as the mental imagery of me on my knees between his powerful thighs consumes my thoughts. His tongue darts out and slowly licks along a slight blue vein in my throat, and I whimper at the blatantly sexual act.

"You'd better be sure about this, Megan. You can't take this back."

My hands tighten around his neck as he licks and sucks along my jaw, leaving small bites. "It's just one night, and afterward, we don't ever have to talk about it again," I tell him.

His chuckle is both raw and holds a tinge of anger. "So you just want to use me?"

This time, he pulls down the strap of my blouse and bites down on my shoulder hard. I make a distressed moan, but his hand is still in my hair, and I can't move.

"That would be convenient for you, wouldn't it?" I ask through labored breaths.

It's difficult to keep my voice steady when he's asking me questions while simultaneously using his mouth to explore my body.

"Convenient?" His voice now has a dangerous quality to it. "And since when have you decided what is convenient for me or not?"

My fingers clench in his hair for a moment in a flash of irritation, but when I try to look down at him, he refuses to let me move, holding my body prisoner.

"If you don't want this, you can just leave. I'm hardly putting a gun to your head." I say the brave words, fueled by champagne kisses and Parisian moonlight, but I definitely don't want him to leave.

"I see." I feel his lips curve against my neck. "So, it's my choice."

"Of course."

Hunter presses an open-mouthed kiss against my jaw. "And tonight is all I get?"

"Like I said-"

"Yes, I heard you."

He pulls down the other strap of my blouse, and I can feel the breeze on my bare cleavage. "I don't like ultimatums, Megan."

Before I can respond, a few things happen at the same time. I feel him move his arm and the sounds of dishes crashing to the ground echo in my ears. Then, he releases me and turns me around, bending me over the small dining table, my chest against the cold smooth wood, his body pressed against mine.

My heart is thudding in my chest at the sudden change in position as he bends over me, his tongue tracing the shell of my ear. "We'll do this, but on my terms."

I don't get a chance to ask him what he means because his hands are pulling down my blouse until it's bunched around my waist.

"Wait-"

"What's wrong?" He presses a kiss on my back, and my mind is fogging over with every touch. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

He's not wrong, but he's so overwhelming right now that I'm feeling both confused and yet so turned on. I want him but I didn't think it would be like this.

"Yes, I mean, I don't know what to do," I stammer. "I can't see your face."

His chuckle is deep, and it holds a hint of darkness as he yanks my hair back, once again with a fistful of my hair, turning me enough to kiss my mouth, a filthy, open-mouthed kiss that has me pressing my legs together. When he pulls away, he says in a low voice, "You just have to take what I give you."

There's nothing delicate in the way he's touching me, and while I'm nervous, there's a part of it that thrills me. When his mouth descends on mine, his free hand undoes my bra so quickly that I barely register him yanking it off of me and tossing it aside.

He's a pro at this.

But he should be. He's a grown-ass man.

Quickly releasing me, he orders me to "Turn around."

The deep tones delivering the order make a shiver run down my spine, and I hesitate, feeling super nervous. I've had sex before, barely, but do I really know what I'm doing? Can I keep up with a man who has probably been with dozens, if not hundreds, of women?

"I won't ask again, Megan," Hunter murmurs in a tone that demands obedience.

He's not touching me anymore, and I slowly turn around to face him.

"Have you ever slept with a man?" He asks, watching me (and my nipples) quite intently.

It's difficult to answer that question without blushing. I seem to have lost all of my bravado when I'm standing bare-chested in front of him.

"I asked you a question."

I don't know why my knees feel so weak when he uses this particular tone.

"Once, a boy from-"

"I'm talking about men." His voice is dark as he puts his hands on both sides of me on the table, effectively caging me in. "I'm not going to make love to you, Megan. I'm going to fuck you just like you asked me to. So, I want to know if you've been fucked before."

I don't know the difference between the two, but I do know that my previous partner never made me feel... like this.

When I stare at him, he cups my breast with one hand, and my nipples pebble painfully hard at the touch. He rolls one of the nubs between his thumb and forefinger.

"Clearly not."

He pauses before suddenly pulling at my nipple and making me gasp at the sliver of pain.

"So, let me teach you a few things."

His fingers immediately soothe the aching flesh, and he lowers his head to lap it before taking it into his mouth. I can't stop the sounds from slipping out of my mouth. This rush of electricity wherever he touches my skin is driving me insane.

He lets go of my nipple with a plopping sound and then murmurs, "I'm not going to treat you like a piece of china. I'm going to break you. I'm going to fuck your mouth and then your pussy, and you're going to like it. I'm going to make sure that you don't even remember your own name when we're done."

His hand takes mine and pulls it toward his pants. "Take out my dick."

My hands are shaking with his promises, my legs rubbing against each other as I feel the dampness in my panties. I don't know what I've gotten myself into, but I can't bring myself to turn back now. I know I'm about to experience something life-changing, and I'm all for it.

What happens in Paris stays in Paris.

I fumble with his zipper and then he stops me, before taking my hand and guiding me to the armchair. He sprawls onto it first, his posture relaxed, looking every bit of the businessman that he is. His suit jacket is neatly folded and resting against the back of the armchair and the sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up.

I stand in front of him, clueless about what to do next as he studies me.

"Take off your pants."

As we toured the city today, I wore a cute spaghetti-strapped blouse with tiny pink flowers and dark blue pencil pants. I felt very Parisian in it. I slowly unzip and push the pants to the floor, feeling a little dizzy from the champagne. I almost tip over but then catch myself. Now, the only thing between me and Hunter is a pair of white lace panties.

"Fucking beautiful," he compliments me under his breath.

He continues to stare at me as I press my lips together, unsure of what to do now.

"Are you drunk, Megan?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"The only thing I'm sure of is that you seem hesitant about doing this. Are you afraid of me?"

He grins. "I'm just making sure I have your consent."

"I think I just gave it when I pulled down my pants just now."

He chuckles lightly. "You're a funny girl when you want to be."

"Yeah?"

"Come closer."

I step forward, standing right in between his knees, which are spread open. I can see a large bulge begging to break free between his legs, even in his loose trousers. I never considered the size of his penis before. It's probably as big and angry as the rest of him.

He unexpectedly slides two fingers between my legs to feel the crotch of my underwear. I close my eyes as everything feels sensitive down there, my clit especially.

"You're definitely wet." He rubs his length through his pants. "That means you're ready. I want to use your pretty mouth first, Megan. Get on your knees and slide down my zipper with your teeth."

When I stand there, frozen, he arches a brow. "Don't tell me you scare this easily. We haven't even started yet."

It's the mocking tone that gets to me. "I'm not scared."

"Then prove it." His burning gaze runs over me. "Put your hands behind your back, slide down my zipper, take out my dick, and put it in your mouth. Let's see if that pretty little mouth of yours knows how to give head."

His lust-filled words go straight to my pussy, and I feel them clench with want and weep from emptiness. I want to be full of Hunter Middleton by the end of this night, and I'll follow every direction he gives to get me there.

"On your knees, Megan," Hunter orders, his voice slightly bored now, as he rests the side of his face on his palm, watching me.

The man is sexy as sin, the smirk on his face making me realize that I may have started this, but he damn sure is going to finish it.

I'll do whatever he wants.

So I sink to my knees.

I'm not scared.

The large bulge that is growing in his pants is eye-catching, though, and I hesitate.

Do I even know what I'm doing?

When I lean forward, he calmly says, "Hands behind your back."

I grind my jaw and do as he says. It's not easy, but I manage to get my teeth around the small zipper, and I pull it down.

The dick that springs out is huge. It has a wide girth and the top of it is already damp with pre-cum.

"It's too big," I stammer.

Hunter smiles and reaches out to cup my chin in his palm, forcing me to look at him. "You can take it."

He rubs my lips with his thumb in a slow, caressing manner, and my lips part as I hold his gaze. When he pushes his thumb in, resting it on my tongue, I immediately begin to suck it, and the pleased expression on his face makes me shiver.

"You do know what to do, after all," he mutters as his dick begins to bob up and down on its own.

He pulls his thumb out of my mouth and then gestures towards his cock with his eyes. "Go on. Taste it."

My performance fear is slowly decreasing, and I ask cautiously, "Can I use my hands now?"

He presses his lips together as if fighting a laugh. "Yes."

Leaning forward, I grasp the base of the veiny shaft in my hands, and my tongue darts out to lick the plum-like head. When I don't hear any sound of displeasure, I take the head into my mouth and suck on it."

From the corner of my eye, I see Hunter's hand clenched on the arm of the sofa, and I feel a little empowered by that. Being able to elicit even this much of a reaction is a win for me. I start licking along the sides of the cock and then use one hand to cup his sac and fondle it lightly.

As the sex tape made of me without my permission would suggest, I've done this before, so I'm not completely without knowledge. But I've never sucked a dick like this one. I should get a medal for even trying something to swallow something so large.

Running my tongue down his fat dick, I push it towards his belly and then give his balls wet attention. This time, I get an actual groan.

He likes this.

Feeling more confident, I stroke his dick while sucking his balls, and Hunter growls under his breath.

"Suck my cock," he commands greedily. "I want to see it in your mouth."

I'm still a little unsure of myself, but I wrap my lip around the thick tip and try to swallow as much as I can. However, I can only get a small portion of it inside. It feels weird having something so big stretching my jaw.

Hunter isn't saying anything as I try to bob my head up and down. I put my hands on his thighs for support to try to lower my head down the shaft some more, but then his hand slides to the back of my head to hold me still.

"I think that's enough," he says in a harsh tone. "It's my turn now. Relax your jaw."

When his hands tighten in my hair, I do what he says, feeling a little pensive. My mouth is stuffed with him.

I nod.

He pumps his hips up slowly, and I go still, feeling his dick slide in and out of my mouth as he uses it like some hole. I can feel something wet slide down the inside of my thigh as this new sensation of utter sexual thirst ripples through me. My nails dig into his thighs, and I don't move as he uses my mouth to get himself off. But why am I getting so turned on by being used like this?

Things become so much worse (or better) when he picks up speed. The faster he goes, the more my lower belly is clenching. I can hear wanton moans ringing in the room and can't believe they're coming out of my mouth. My pussy is dripping with need, and I'm feeling both helpless and frustrated.

His face is tight as he thrusts into my willing mouth, and my eyes widen as he forces his entire shaft down my throat. "Breathe through your nose. Take it slow."

I'm gagging and trying not to, and it takes me a few seconds to push away the panic, my eyes watering. He pulls out and then plunges all the way in, his voice firm. "Your throat needs to be trained to take me. To please me. I'm being gentle right now. Flatten your tongue."

It takes a few tries for me to get a little more used to it, but I have discovered a different problem now. Every time I nearly choke on his fat dick, my clit pulses, and an orgasm starts to slowly climb down my spine like a slithering snake.

I'm nearing my own release as he fucks my mouth in steady, deep strokes, his grip on my hair holding me in place. I can't see my expression, but I feel wanton and desperate, and I want more.

Suddenly Hunter pulls out, hovering his throbbing dick just over my lips, smirking, "Look at you, Megan. You look so hungry. Do you really like sucking dick that much, or is it because it's my dick?"

I make a slight whimpering sound, my legs rubbing against each other like a cricket, my juices running down my inner thighs.

"Please," seems to be the only thing I can think to say. I'm begging for more of him, for a release, for any damn thing that he will give me.

"So greedy," he chuckles.

He holds his stiff dick and guides it towards my lips, smearing my lips with the pre-cum. I'm not a fan of the salty taste, but I obediently lick it off my lips, looking up at him. He smiles, stroking my cheek with his other hand.

"Should I make you drink it or cover you in it?" His voice is soft and caressing, and the tone doesn't match the dirtiness of the question.

"Whatever you want, Hunter."

This is not me. This total submission. But when he looks pleased with my response, I feel a hint of gratification.

"Open your mouth and stick out your tongue."

I do so immediately.

Hunter strokes himself, and I watch, hypnotized by the precision of his movements. It doesn't take long for his face to tighten from the orgasm that hits him. I watch with rapt attention as he emits a quiet groan that escapes his lips as his come lands on my waiting tongue. I flinch in surprise but am also pleased with myself. I made him come like that.

"Suck the rest out," he growls, forcing his dick back into my mouth.

I don't hesitate, bobbing my head up and down with a little help from him. I feel the bitter liquid hit the back of my throat, and I swallow. My legs are shaking, and I carefully suck hard as I feel my own orgasm engulf me.

When I finally pull away, I'm trembling.

Hunter's hand is stroking my head now, his voice oddly gentle. "You all right?"

I nod, feeling both shaky and satisfied.

"Do you still want to go on?"

"Yes."