Holy shit, what just happened?
I come back down to earth in time to hear his deep breaths of pleasure, amused by my gasps of surprise. “I’ll allow you that one, but rule number four is that you don’t come until I say you can.”
I gulp. How am I supposed to obey that?
He starts stroking me again, and this time, I melt into it. My body is humming, the waves of pleasure receding, but I’m still aching for more. His hands roam my body, stroking and caressing every inch of skin, squeezing my nipples tight, caressing along my back and thighs and brushing lightly over my trembling clit.
I writhe, feeling every nerve ending spark and catch light. I can’t believe it, but I’m close again. With each stroke of his hand, my pussy clenches tight in response, but he stays away from my aching center, like he knows that one touch will send me over the edge.
I struggle to keep my hands on the bed, fingers curling into the sheets, wanting to reach back, just touch myself and plummet off the cliff into the ecstasy.
“I know what you need,” his voice growls, possessive in my ear, “I know what you want. And if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you have it all.”
“Yes,” I gasp, desperate. “Please. I’ll do anything you want.”
Suddenly, his hands are gone. His weight missing from the bed.
There’s silence.
“What’s happening?” I gulp, alone in the dark of my blindfold. I want to twist my head around, but I’m frozen in place, his rules and threats still fresh in my mind. “Where are you?”
“I’m not playing around anymore, Justine.”
His voice is close. His tone is ragged with lust.
“This is your last chance to stop me. Just tell me what you want.”
I gulp.
Does he understand what he’s asking? Giving up all control? Do I trust him that much?
Yes.
In that moment, something breaks free inside of me.
I want to surrender. I want to submit. Anything, to feel his hands on me again.
Suddenly, all of my worries and insecurities disappear. In the space of a heartbeat, I feel free, like I’m flying on the waves of his voice and the anticipation that still twists in my body, sharp and demanding.
I swallow, wetting my dry throat before answering.
“You. I want you.”
I hear his quick intake of breath then his quiet steps approaching the bed.
“So beg for me.” His voice crashes through me. “Beg for my cock, Justine. I want to hear you say it.”
“Please!” I cry, louder. I don’t care that I’m totally at his mercy now. I’m lost in the white-hot rush of desire, the ache of my body. “Please. I need you, I need every inch of your cock. Do whatever you want to me, just fuck me right now!”
I feel the bed shift again with his weight, and I feel like weeping with joy.
“I thought I told you to be naked and ready for me.”
His hand stills by the garter belt.
I feel a rush of panic. “I’m sorry. I just wanted...” I search for the words, but I don’t know how to explain.
“You wanted what? To be in control?” he demands, his nimble fingers unclipping the stockings from the garters before rolling one down my leg.
I nod, embarrassed that I disappointed him. Shocked by how much I care.
“And now?” He rolls the other stocking off. I never knew such a simple touch could be so electric, how the graze of his hands against my bare legs would make my pussy clench and my clit throb with desire.
“You,” I moan. “You’re in control. I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
“That’s right,” he says, nipping my ear lobe. “Now. Get onto your back. Hands over your head. Then don’t move.”
Eager to please him, I move into position. I lay down on my back and grip the pillow above me, arching my body. My legs fall wide open, and I shudder to think of him watching me, examining every inch of my wet, needy cunt.
“I think it’s time I gave this pussy the attention it deserves.”
My heart jumps. Yes.
He strokes gently over my clit, rubbing a slow circle that leaves me panting.
I whimper, rocking my hips towards his hand. He pulls away.
“More, please,” I beg.
“Quiet.”
I clench my jaw, scared he’ll stop touching me. My hands fist in frustration, holding onto the sheets for dear life as he begins to rub and tease my clit, sending pleasure ricocheting through my whole body.
Fuck, this is incredible!
Every sense is overwhelmed by him. The soothing touch of his fingertips. The rumble of his deep voice. The scent of him, warm coffee and expensive cologne mixed with the spicy masculine scent that’s uniquely him.
“Does this feel good, my sweet?” he murmurs, sliding his hand lower to nudge at my aching slit.
I let out a moan.
“Jesus, you’re even wetter now,” his voice thickens as he probes one fingertip inside. I arch up, eagerly clenching around the tiny intrusion.
“Dammit, you’re just begging to be fucked, aren’t you? I’m going to stretch you wide open, my sweet. That tight, juicy cunt is going to take every inch of me, and trust me, I won’t hold back. I’m going to fuck you until you’re screaming, until you beg me to stop, but we’ll both know you want it deeper, until you come so hard you forget your own name.”
I writhe in response, using every last thread of self-control to keep from reaching for him. It’s all too much, and not enough.
I need more.
As if he can hear me, he shifts, moving until I can feel the heat of his body poised over me. Without warning, his lips close around my stiff nipple. He sucks it into his mouth, tongue rasping back and forth over the swollen nub.
Oh my god!
Pleasure strikes straight to my core. It’s everything I can do to hold still and not arch up against his wicked mouth and probing fingers.
This is torture. Sweet, sweet, sensuous torture. I don’t know how much more of it I can take.
“This pussy is greedy, don’t you think?” he teases me, dipping his finger just inside me, then sliding it out. “One finger isn’t enough, is it, my sweet? You want more.”
“God, yes,” I gasp.
“Maybe you want it deeper?” he muses, sliding back into my slick, tight depths. He curls his fingertip up against my walls and I mewl, but it’s not enough.
“Or harder?”
He grinds his palm against my clit and sends a shockwave of friction sparking through my body.
“Or maybe you need two.”
He dips a second finger inside me, a tease that leaves me aching even more. He pulses lightly, then slides them back. Dammit, I can’t take this! I need him to fill me up, fuck me, stretch me wide open the way he promised!
And, as if he knows this, he pulls back and licks slowly down my stomach, his whisker-rough cheek grazing and teasing my oversensitive skin as he rubs his fingers back and forth across my clit.
The desperate ache recedes, but I’m left gasping and drained. No! Just when I’m about to scream in frustration, I feel him shift between my thighs.
“I told you, I love peaches,” there’s a chuckle in his voice. “Now, let’s see how sweet you really are.”
The glorious hot slide of his tongue licks up against me, inside, and I lose my mind.