Chapter 51
Aida
“Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.”
—Milton, Paradise Lost
Iscramble to do as he says, tugging at his belt buckle and getting the zipper of his jeans down over his huge bulge. I free his dick from above the waistband of his boxer briefs, registering how huge and hot and hard he feels.
‘Okay,’ he breathes against my mouth. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. You need to get off, dirty girl, so you’re gonna use my dick to do it. I’ll hold your greedy cunt wide open.’
Holy crap. I don’t need to be told twice.
I release my breasts and wrap an arm around his neck for stability as I nudge my body further up his thighs, lining up the engorged, weeping head of his cock with my poor clit, and holy fuck.
That first slick sweep of his wet, swollen flesh against mine must be the work of angels, and the sensation of his strong fingers prising me as open as humanly possible for him feels as filthy as it does right.
I cry out and shudder, letting my head fall to the crook of his neck as I drag him greedily down to my entrance, where I let him pulse for a moment before pulling him back up to find my clit.
‘That’s it,’ he hisses. ‘Yes. Fucking go for it. Use me like you’d use my tongue if I was down there eating you.’
And I do. I really do go for it. I slide him back and forth over my clit like the most delicious vibrator as his fingers hold me open and his other hand works my nipple with tweaks that bring pain and arousal coursing through my breast in equal measure.
God, I’m close. This feels filthy and wanton, straddling his lap and rubbing myself with his gorgeous dick.
My breath gets more fevered as I grow more desperate, more greedy for my impending orgasm.
But just as I’m entering the extreme pleasure zone, Cal releases the lips of my pussy and covers the hand on his dick with his own, effectively withdrawing my personal sex toy from me.
‘What are you doing?’ I gasp blindly, lifting my face from where it’s been drooling on his shoulder so I can see him. His grin is that of a man in pain, but there’s a sadistic element there that I’ve learnt too quickly does not bode well. Uh oh.
‘Giving you a grand finale,’ he says. He lifts my hand off his dick and puts it on my pussy. Even my own touch has me shivering with want. ‘Feel how wet that cunt is. You need more friction.’
‘No, I’m fine,’ I insist. I want my magical Cal-shaped wand back, goddammit.
‘Here’s what you’re going to do,’ he says, blithely ignoring my protest. ‘You’re going to get on one thigh and rub yourself against my jeans, and it’ll be fucking spectacular for you.
Imagine how good this rough denim’s gonna feel against your poor, swollen clit.
And if you ride my thigh nicely like a good girl, I’ll work your tits so hard you could come from that alone. Got it?’
I shoot him a look so mutinous that any self-respecting man would roll over, but he just laughs.
‘You’re my favourite little hellion. Come on, sweetheart. Ride me like the needy little whore you are right now.’
If I was any less turned on, I’d be second guessing myself, because this is way out of my comfort zone. But, happily for him, I need this orgasm so fucking badly I’ll do anything, including give him the cheap little show he desires.
Besides. Much as I hate to admit it, he’s right.
Between my arousal and his, things were getting way too slick down there.
I need serious friction to scratch my itch properly, and now he’s made his filthy suggestion, my poor, orgasm-starved mind is singularly fixating on just how good it will feel to rub myself against that denim.
‘Fine,’ I say through gritted teeth, and he laughs again.
‘That’s my girl. And when you’re doing it, know I’ll be fucking you straight afterwards, okay? This is what you’ve got to look forward to.’
With that, he grips me hard around the forearm while jamming two fingers up inside me, and it’s so brutally perfect that I let out a barely human howl.
‘God, yeah,’ he says, pulling his fingers out and driving them inside me hard. ‘That’s what I’m talking about. I’m going to fuck you on the floor so hard that big brain of yours will explode. You won’t remember your ABCs when I’m finished with you.’
With that ominous prediction, he pulls his fingers out roughly and nods. ‘Go on. Ride me.’
It would be insane to pretend I’m not loving every second of Cal toying with me and dirty-talking me and spurring me on to this shameless behaviour.
I raise myself up and step between his legs before planting myself squarely on one rock hard thigh, just far enough away from his knee that I won’t fall over backward.
I have my feet planted as wide as I can get them, and the second my poor pussy hits denim I practically weep with delight.
‘Jesus Christ,’ I say, looking between us.
Cal’s dick is still fully erect and weeping, but he ignores it, crossing his hands behind his head as he leans back to give me some space.
His entire demeanour is that of a guy determined to enjoy the show.
‘Imagine I’ve paid you for a lap dance,’ he grits out, ‘but you’re such a greedy little slut that you can’t help but grind against my leg and make a mess of my jeans.
If you do a good job and lick it all up, I’ll give you more money than you’ve ever dreamed of, and I’ll even throw in a rough fuck, just the way I know you need it. ’
Jesus Christ, I am going to hell. There’s no doubt about it.
His words have the desired effect, which is to cheapen me and turn me the fuck on like I didn’t even know was possible.
I’m showered in shame and arousal, but my hips start to move like they have a mind of their own, because my only chance of an orgasm right now is to rub my clit against this rough fabric.
And I do, like my life depends on it. God, the drag of the cotton is so fucking good. He was right. His thigh is hard, unyielding, the denim perfectly abrasive, and I’d rub myself raw if it made me see stars.
‘Arms behind your head,’ he barks. ‘I want to see your tits.’
I drown in his black eyes as I obey, mirroring his stance, raising my arms and interlocking my fingers at the base of my skull as I find a rhythm and grind against him.
I can’t imagine how wanton I must look like this, but the ravenous expression on Cal’s face gives me courage. That and my sheer desperation to come.
He rewards my bravery by unfolding his own hands and palming my breasts, and I swear I arch into him like the most shameless creature on earth, moaning as my nipples press against his palms.
‘Ride me harder, gorgeous,’ he says. ‘Take everything you can, greedy girl. I want my money’s worth.’
Then his palming turns to pinches as he pulls on my aching nipples like a man deranged, his nostrils flaring and teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he stares at me, spurring me on.
I grind and grind and rub and rub until all I can think of is that next vicious stroke of his denim-clad thigh against the little, swollen nub of my clit.
‘Harder,’ he says, and I drive into him, thighs trembling as I chafe my most sensitive flesh against him. I’m a crazed, roiling mess of blind, primitive need as I rut myself headlong into the white-hot oblivion I’ve chased so desperately.
Every inch of Cal’s own hunger is etched on his face and written into the savage movements of his hands on my breasts, into the way he’s rutting himself, hips thrusting uselessly below me and his dick driving into nothingness.
Claiming my own orgasm as he sits there, servicing me and taking nothing for himself, feels awful and selfish and nasty and cheap and fucking amazing.
And I let that riot of emotions cascade over me, heightening the impossible pleasure that inflames my entire body and has me bucking and crying out as my hands go to his shoulders.
His first words are compliments, lavish adulations bestowed on me alongside hungry kisses as he praises my filthiness, my cleverness.
But as soon as I raise myself off his thigh, my legs shaky and my clit already feeling unnervingly like it’s suffering from carpet burn, he glances down at the dark, wet patch on his jeans.
‘Lick it up like a good girl,’ is what he tells me next.