Chapter 21
Amber
The answer to that should be a firm, resounding no.
No, I do not want my captor to make me come. No, I do not want you to ask me if I want to come.
But the truth is, I do want that. I just doubt that he can.
I think there's something wrong with me in that I've never been able to come with another partner.
When I'm by myself, I have a one hundred percent accuracy rating.
And with a vibrator, I come embarrassingly quickly.
But with another partner? I've never been able to do it, no matter what angle they tried to take me from, no matter what pillow we put beneath my hips, no matter how long he fucked my slit with his tongue.
And maybe that's the problem, because whatever Cal just did to me down there was nothing like the oral I've received before.
He didn't just lick it like the tip of an ice cream cone; he went deep, pulling me into his mouth the same way the guys always say to take their cock into my mouth.
So, it shouldn't come as such a surprise, but it does.
It was... phenomenal.
“I don't orgasm.” I tell him quietly, ashamed to admit to my brokenness. But it's better to get that out of the way now, before he can get me all worked up and then leave me with a pulse thundering between my legs that I can't sate because it will crush his ego.
And crushing a man's ego is a crime more damning than wearing the wrong outfit in their presence.
To my surprise, he only chuckles, his breath blowing hot across my wet pussy, where he's still settled, looking far too casual, as if there's nowhere else he'd rather be... as if he didn't just finish.
Well, he may have finished, but he's clearly not done, because predictably, he takes my admission as a challenge.
“I'm sorry to break it to you, little doll, but you orgasm. Even unconscious, you orgasm.”
My chest tightens painfully before releasing in quick succession, and I decide it's because I don't know how that is supposed to make me feel.
“There's no way. It's not possible for me.”
“Well, you have all the right parts.” He says, flashing me a cocky grin that makes my pussy clench, begging him to make good on his words. “Let me try?”
Let me try?
I'm exhausted but satisfied. I didn't expect to come, but I also didn't expect to feel so... fulfilled.
It's why I cried, and I'm mortified that he saw that. He doesn't need to know that what he did for me, by showing me how he used to do this when I wasn't awake to experience it, has made something deep inside of me shift.
I told him sex was transactional, but whatever the fuck he just did? That was no transaction. That was... worship.
No, Amber. Get your fucking head out of your ass. He told you he bought you to kill you. He doesn't care about you, so stop fucking fawning over him.
“Can I?” He prompts, looking at me through those impossible dark lashes.
And damn if the look in his eyes isn't akin to worship, too.
How am I supposed to say no to that?
I nod ever so slightly, but he doesn't dive right to it. Instead, he continues to hold my gaze.
“Use your words this time, little doll. Can I make you come?”
All I manage to squeak out is a yes, but it quickly turns to a gasp because he gives me zero chance to prepare as his tongue slides against my seam, entirely unbothered by the combination of his cum and my juices that he just rubbed all over me.
In fact, judging by the little moan that comes from somewhere in his throat, I'm guessing he enjoys it.
I want to be disgusted by that, but suddenly, I find myself wondering how he tastes.
He sucks my entire clit into his mouth again, the way he did before, and it's so swollen already that I cry out. I can't help it. And unlike when he kept telling me to be still before, he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he seems to take my sound as encouragement to keep going, to suck harder.
It's horribly wonderful, an all-consuming sort of pleasure I can't imagine actually exists, but my thighs are tense on either side of his head, quivering and ready to snap shut at the first sign of his reluctance.
That moment never comes, because he seems to be a starving man all of a sudden.
He feasts on me— every drop I give him, every sigh or moan I make.
It doesn't build anything, but it wraps me in velvet pleasure and holds me there, hostage, until what feels like hours have passed.
I think my brain turns off at some point, unable to focus on anything beyond what's happening between my thighs.
I think I may quit breathing a time or two before he releases me with a little smacking sound I'm too exhausted to be embarrassed of.
When he looks at me from between my thighs, there's a smirk on the lips that glisten with our juices, and it twists my gut. He looks so proud.
I'm obviously going to lie and tell him that was the most intense orgasm I've ever had.
But he doesn't give me that chance, threading his arms under my knees and tugging me to the edge of the table so that my ass meets with the edge, and I worry for a minute that I'll slip right off.
That doesn't happen, though, because he hooks my legs over his shoulders and keeps me balanced, open, while his fingers land on my clit and begin to rub a slow circle around it.
The way he found the exact spot I needed him tells me that I may have been dead wrong... the perfect cadence as he builds pressure assures me that I did.
The same heat that's been hovering in my core grows hotter, building in ferocity as he strokes me to a tipping point.
He was right. He was fucking right.
I'm absolutely going to come if he doesn't...
He stops, and I peel my eyes open, peering at him through my frustration. His head is cocked to one side, and his lips are still twisted with his smirk that I want to wipe right off of his beautiful face. I'd shove his head back between my thighs, but then I definitely wouldn't get off yet.
“You don't have to be quiet anymore.” He assures me. “I want to hear you.”
I blink at him, confused, because I haven't been trying to restrain myself. At least, not consciously.
But if he wants to hear me...
I moan louder than I meant to when he sinks two fingers deep inside of me and curls them like he's trying to coax my orgasm out of me. Which is exactly what he's doing.
That sound spurs him on, and he pulls back, thrusting in deeper, hitting new depths as I imagine he opens me wider to all the possibilities.
When his other hand comes back to my clit, I buck, unprepared for the onslaught of pleasure.
It's intoxicating, thick enough to drown in. It takes no prisoners, building quickly to a crescendo until I'm fucking whimpering.
And something about that sound that comes from my own chest makes me all the more feral, the feeling all the more intense.
I am without a doubt about to come, and I only have a second to be nervous about it before horror tries to steal the moment as urgency twists my bladder.
“F-fuck.” I gasp, trying to get his attention. It's hard to do when he's a man on a mission, possessed with the need to prove me wrong. “Cal, stop. I—”
“Not a fucking chance.” He chuckles. “Let go. It's okay.”
The same heat that he's been building religiously in my groin spreads through me at the impending realization that I'm going to piss myself.
I slam my eyes shut, trying to stave it off, but he doesn't relent.
“Cal!” I beg, knowing he's dragging me too close to the point of no return. If he just stops now, I can—
The heat explodes across me all at once, built from a single flashpoint. But it takes me by the very marrow of my bones and rends me apart, scattering me to the fucking wind as I screw my eyes shut so hard I think for a moment that I gave myself an aneurysm.
That's not what happened, though.
I know it because he continues to fuck me with his fingers through the orgasm, refusing to relent even as I spray out around his fingers, mortified and satisfied and too fucking greedy to care as my soul is shredded into pieces and left to drift around us like feathers on the breeze.
My head falls back against the counter, buzzy and dizzy, and I don't have the strength to even consider opening my eyes, which is just as well because I don't know how I'm going to face him after what I just did.
It's his hand on my cheek, which smells distinctly of sex, rubbing a gentle pattern there that finally gets me to open my eyes.
When I do, I find he's covering my body with his own, watching me intently... smiling.
I open my mouth even though I have no clue what I'm going to say.
Sorry?
Please don't be mad at me?
“You're so fucking addictive.” He says, pressing a kiss to the tip of my nose.
It makes me still, violently startled by the sudden intimacy.
He only chuckles, to the point I begin to wonder if this guy is ever serious about anything. Life must just be that peachy when you're rich, huh, because he doesn't seem to have a care in the world right now.
Or maybe he's just happy he was right.
I'm guessing it's that one, because he's still entirely smug when he says, “Told ya.”