His Sexual Partner by Lizzy Grey

One night of passion. A lifetime of regret. Or can a relationship built on blackmail turn to love?

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At a charity fundraising event, Lesley Strickland meets Jonathan Lewis—a fellow cancer survivor—and they spend the night together. When Lesley discovers Jonathan is a politician, she never wants to see him again, despite a deepening sexual attraction. But Jonathan can’t forget her. Only Lesley can satisfy him, and he has a discreet proposition for her—that she become his sexual partner.

Lesley asks for time to consider the proposition, but Jonathan’s mother intervenes and blackmails her, threatening to reveal a secret which could ruin Lesley’s reputation and business. Lesley is forced to accept Jonathan’s proposition and all it entails—being at the new British Home Secretary’s beck and call whenever he needs her—as his sexual partner…

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An excerpt from Chapter Three

In the lift, she stared at her reflection in the mirrors. The little black dress barely contained her breasts and the skirt was more of a belt. She looked like a high-class call girl. She closed her eyes for a moment. She was a high-class call girl now, though an unpaid one.

As she walked along the eighth-floor corridor, Jonathan swung open a door and smiled.

“I hope you’re thirsty? I’ve just bought two bottles of wine.”

“I am,” she replied, feeling ridiculously nervous all of a sudden. He was wearing the trousers of a black suit with a white shirt. His blue tie was pulled loose and the top couple of shirt buttons were undone. She couldn’t help but admit that he oozed virility. Could she make this man love her, or would it always be only about sex for him?

“Good. You look incredible.” He opened the door further for her. “Come in.”

She went inside, and glanced around the apartment, feeling his eyes drinking her in. The apartment was large, open plan, with wooden floorboards and French doors opening out onto the roof terrace.

“It’s strange,” she began. “I’ve suddenly become a news junkie. It’s driving Emma mad because she’s addicted to Strictly Come Dancing.”

He groaned and walked to the ultra-masculine kitchen complete with black cabinets, black granite worktops and black stools at the breakfast bar. He took a corkscrew from a drawer then turned to her. “Red or white?”

“Red, please.”

He pulled the cork out with a pop and left the bottle on the worktop. “I’ll let it breathe for a few minutes. So, a crime bookshop, eh?”

“Yes, I really do make a living from crime.”

He laughed. “Don’t tell anyone, but I love a good crime novel.”

“Surely, reading one must be like taking work home with you now?”

“There’s always the historical ones.”

“That’s true.”

“Are we going to discuss the weather now?” He leant back against the breakfast bar and folded his arms.

“I hope not.” She smiled. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Our agreement. But first—and I hope you don’t mind—but I’m a terrible chef so I got some food in, threw it all together and made a kind of a goulash. I didn’t really want to call it stew.”

“No problem.” She glanced at an orange casserole dish in the oven. “As long as it’s not paella, I never want to see paella ever again.”

“You won’t in this apartment, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

She watched him serve the goulash and followed with the bottle of red wine as he went out onto the roof terrace with the two dishes. A black cast iron table and two chairs stood in the centre. It was beautifully cool and with hardly any breeze, a candle was flickering gently in the centre of the table.

“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.”

“I don’t have dinner guests here very often,” he said as he put the dishes on the table.

“Oh.” She stared at him in surprise. “I thought you would.”

“No, this is where I sleep. I get up and go to work, come home, and sleep.”

“You’re not regretting accepting the position, are you?” she asked, as he held her chair for her and she sat down.

“No.” He sat opposite her. “The workload I can cope with, the responsibility is harder, though. I’m glad you’re here.” He gave her a smile. “It’s been years since I’ve wined and dined a woman here.”

“You’ve had a love life which wasn’t just sex, then?” She sampled the goulash and found it to be surprisingly good.

“Back in the dim and distant past and it didn’t last very long. She dumped me when I got the cancer diagnosis.” Her eyes bulged and he nodded wryly. “You really find out who your friends are at a time like that. I’m half expecting her to come crawling back now and it will give me great satisfaction in telling her where to go.”

Is that because of me, she wondered, eating another spoonful of goulash. It was far easier to have a sexual arrangement with someone, rather than a proper relationship.

“Luckily, I was single when I was diagnosed. I did lose a few friends, though. They couldn’t—or wouldn’t—cope with it so stopped ringing and calling around. Their loss.”

“Exactly. Fair weather friends, who needs them, eh?” He poured the wine then held up a glass. “Fuck the lot of them.”

“Fuck the lot of them.” She touched his glass with hers. “I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to bite my tongue. It must be awful for you now everyone knows about you.”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “It comes with the job. Luckily, I haven’t yet been asked directly whether I’ve got the balls for the job yet, but all the balls and testicle jokes have been well and truly done to death in the newspapers and it’s only been a few weeks.”

“If I were you and everyone was making jokes about my breasts… actually, they wouldn’t, because it would be seen as sexist.”

“To some,” he said. “To others, you’d still be seen as fair game.”

“Which is why I’m nervous being here. If the press finds out about me.”

“Lesley.” He reached out and squeezed her hand. “I will do my utmost to try and keep your name out of the press for as long as possible.”

“Thank you.” She sat back in her chair with her glass of wine and glanced around the roof terrace. It was large but the table and chairs were the only furniture on it. “It is lovely here. I’ve always wanted a roof terrace and I suppose I’m lucky that the shop has a backyard, but I had the Pyrenees as a backdrop for six months and the yard doesn’t really compare.”

“So you go to Essex?”

“Yes,” she said and took a sip of wine. “No mountains in Essex, though.”

“That’s true.” He laughed.

“Not as easy to sunbathe nude there either.”

“I suppose not.”

“You’ve never sunbathed nude?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “In my parents’ back garden? No. And now it probably wouldn’t be such a good idea given that part of my anatomy could melt.”

“Silicone doesn’t melt, trust me.” She made a point of glancing down at her breasts then smiled at him and out over the rooftops. “It’s lovely here,” she said again, putting the glass on the table.

“I know. I was very lucky to find this apartment. Let me give you the tour.”

He took her hand and led her indoors. In the living area, two black leather sofas stood opposite each other while a terrifyingly thin LCD TV hung on the wall. A door opened into a short corridor with three rooms off it.

“Two bedrooms, each with tiny ensuites so I use the main bathroom,” he explained, opening a door. The bathroom was huge with a large Jacuzzi bath and a gigantic shower. “I’m not vain but I can lock myself away in here and just stand under the shower or wallow in the bath.”

“I like a good wallow, too.”

“That’s good to know.” He led her into the bedroom next door. French doors opened from his bedroom onto a Juliet balcony.

“Okay, that’s not fair.” She went to it and gazed down at the street. “A roof terrace and a balcony.”

“I can leave the doors open all night so I don’t melt.”

“I hope you don’t sleepwalk and stand there completely starkers for the paparazzi to see?” she teased, turning around.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“You have a lovely apartment,” she told him sincerely, noting the huge wooden-framed bed. “My place is a bit of a dump. The cottage is nice, though.”

“It’s lovely. More wine?”

“Yes, please.”

She let him take her hand again and lead her back out onto the roof terrace. She watched him pour two more glasses of red wine before putting the bottle down with a bit of a crash.

“I need you now.” Backing her up against the wall of the apartment block, he undid his trousers and freed his cock. He slid his fingers between her legs, pulled her panties to one side, and pushed into her. She moaned at the sudden stinging invasion of her pussy and he shook his head. “Shh,” he whispered. “You have to be quiet out here.”

He lifted her off her feet, his arms under her thighs, and her behind bumped hard against the brick wall with each thrust. Bumping towards him off the wall, forced him deeper into her, and she exhaled hot gasps into his ear. In the darkest corner of the roof terrace, they fucked as silently as they could until he thrust one last time and held himself inside her as he grunted and came. Her pussy clamped hard onto his cock as her orgasm ripped through her and she forced herself to pant so she wouldn’t scream.

He held her up against the wall until she lifted her forehead from his shoulder and he kissed her lips. “You can slap me now if you want?”

“Do you want me to slap you?” she asked mischievously.

“Well, no, not really. I have to make a statement in the House of Commons tomorrow and—”

She tilted his head up and kissed him back. “Okay, I won’t slap you.”

He gave her a grin. “Thank you.” He gently let her drop to her feet, slipping out of her, and she righted her panties.

She walked back to the table and took a sip of wine, hearing him zip up his trousers and follow her.

“Did you have a bad day at work?” she asked. “Is that why you had to have me?”

“Not particularly. Yes, I wanted you, but I was curious to see how long it would take you to get here, too. You look fantastic, considering the short notice.”

“Emma, my flatmate helped me get ready.”

He tensed. “So, she knows?”

“She thinks we’re dating.”

“Will she keep quiet?”

“Yes.”

“Make sure she does,” he commanded. “I’d rather no-one knew about us yet.”

“You summoned me here with less than an hour’s notice, I had to say something. I also had to borrow some things from her.”

“Oh?” He looked her up and down. “What?”

“These.” She raised the hem of her dress and showed him her stockings. “She also did my hair and makeup.”

“Useful flatmate,” he murmured.

“What would you like me to wear when we meet?”

“Variations on that outfit,” he replied immediately. “Show off those tits I love so much. I like stockings on you, too.”

“Jonathan.” She ran a finger around the rim of the glass. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes, of course, you can.”

“Why don’t you just find yourself a Stepford Wife?”

He shook his head. “No. When the time comes, I want to find a wife who I enjoy fucking. She also has to enjoy being fucked and she must quite like politicians, too.” He gave her a little smile, reminding her of her own aversion to them.

So, he didn’t know his mother was trying to turn her into a Stepford Wife for him. That was interesting to know. Bringing her glass of wine to the railings which surrounded the terrace, she gazed out over the rooftops.

“Do you have a secretary?” she asked as he joined her.

“I have a few secretaries. None that I’d want to marry, though. Come inside, I want to undress you.”

He led her inside, and she put her glass down on the kitchen worktop as he strode through the apartment and she almost had to run to keep up with him. He brought her into his bedroom, kicked the door closed, and reached for the hem of her dress. In one swift movement, he pulled it up, over her head and off her. Holding the inside-out dress in one hand, he looked her up and down before tossing the dress onto a chair.

“It was a nice dress,” he told her. “But I want to see what’s underneath now.”

“I want to see what’s under your clothes, too.”

He nodded and undressed until he stood naked in front of her with no hint of embarrassment or self-consciousness. Reaching out, she took his hard cock in her hand, rubbing her thumb over the tip. The cock twitched in her hand and she smiled, extending her rubbing to the entire head, and he exhaled a little groan.

She moved closer to him, holding his cock with her left hand, and smoothing and rubbing the head with the thumb and forefinger of her right. Pre-cum began to ooze from the tip and she used it to coat the head and then the shaft, gripping it and sliding her fingers up and down while continuing the smoothing and rubbing. He stood perfectly still, and she glanced upwards. His dark eyes were watching her hands intently. She gradually quickened her fingers, he closed his eyes, and she felt him tense. Jerking violently in her hands, he cursed, spurting cum over her fingers, panties, and stomach. She continued to slide, smooth, and rub his cock through his orgasm until he pulled away from her.

He sat on the edge of the bed with his head bent, breathing heavily. A minute or two passed before he looked at her. “Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up and I’ll call you a cab.”

Her heart plummeted. “You want me to go?”

“Clean yourself up and get dressed.” He reached for her dress and passed it to her.

She went into the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror over the wash hand basin. What had she done wrong? He’d enjoyed it. She’d made him come. She washed her hands and body, yanked a towel from a rail, and dried herself. He could have stopped her at any time. She pulled her dress the right way out, put it on, and went into the living area. He was dressed and bringing their plates inside from the table on the roof terrace. The evening was over.

“When will my cab be here?” she asked.

“Five minutes.”

“I’ll wait downstairs in the foyer.”

Feeling his eyes on her, she left the apartment, closing the door behind her. In the lift, she rubbed her forehead. If only she knew what she’d done wrong. Was their agreement over now? What if he told The Bitch and the videos of her were uploaded to the internet? Fuck.

The cab driver’s eyes bulged as she left the apartment complex and got into the back of the cab bum first again.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes at this hour of the morning. Good evening, was it, love?”

“No.”

The flat was in darkness as she crept inside and went into her bedroom. She sat in front of the dressing table mirror, reached for cleansing lotion and cotton wool, then wiped away the makeup. Underneath, her face was as white as a sheet and she turned away from the mirror. Waking up her laptop, she accessed her emails and opened the video. She curled up on the bed watching herself kissing, licking, and sucking his beautiful cock. She put the video on repeat until she fell asleep.

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