Chapter FIVE
(Matthew)
As I watched the woman beside me, I couldn’t believe my luck. She was every bit as fearless at sex as she allegedly was at the rest of her life; I would never think stories about her were exaggerated again. Free spirit wasn’t enough to describe her. She was… free. Free with her body and her desires as anyone I’d ever met before. Freer than even me, maybe.
She offered me the water, and I waved it away, so she placed it on the table. Next to the box of the condoms that sat there begging me to put one on and get into her impossibly wet cunt as fast as I could.
But there was no reason to rush. As far as I knew, this would only be happening tonight.
“I have a theory. About why you won’t let me come.” She squeezed her thighs together, perhaps unconsciously.
“I’d love to hear it.” I watched with amusement as she walked her fingertips up my thigh, closer and closer to my straining dick.
“I think you’re making me wait because you know that once you get inside me, you’re not going to last long.” She rose up on her knees on the cushion and took my hand, guiding it between her legs. I humored her and slid two fingers inside her, and she sighed in relief before continuing. “Feel that?” She squeezed down on my fingers, hard. “Think about all of that. All around you.”
Her hand encircled my cock, and she tightened her grip in flutters that mimicked what she was doing to my hand. “You don’t have a prayer. Seven strokes, max.”
I moved fast, knocking her back on the couch and covering her. She whooped with shocked laughter, and I used that opportunity to put those fingers that had occupied her pussy into her mouth. Gazing into her impossibly blue eyes while she sucked her own essence from my fingers was almost enough to make me tap out at zero strokes. My cock lay against her vulva, the wet heat begging me to let go, even if I wasn’t inside her.
I reached between us and positioned my bare cock head against her clit, knowing I was, if not fully breaking my own rule, at least bending it by coating myself in her juices. At the moment, I couldn’t have cared less. I ground myself against her, sliding the full length of my shaft across her clit, then back again.
“Turnabout is fair play,” I whispered against her neck, pausing to nibble at her throat. “Think about all of that. Inside you. Every last inch filling you. Seven strokes, max? I think you’ll come the moment I stretch you open.” And to make my point clearer, I let my cock slip down, the head resting right at the entrance to her pussy.
I lifted my head to meet her eyes. Her pulse was visible in her pupils. We both knew we’d come to a dangerous moment, and that we should step back. Because at that very second, I knew both of us were about to throw all precaution to the wind.
I sat back on my knees. “But no. My staying power is not what’s making me torment you.”
“Torment. That’s an interesting word.” She pushed herself up on her elbows and let one leg fall to the floor while the other remained raised and bent against the back of the sofa. Her pussy was still there, bare, dripping, and if my cock had been able to speak to me, it would have been begging for mercy. “So, you’re a sadist?” she asked.
“Now that’s an interesting word.” It was probably apt, though. “I do enjoy making people suffer. Not always like this. But I enjoy being tortured as much as I enjoy torturing.”
“So, do you ever… whips and chains and all that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Sometimes. There’s very little that I won’t do.” I shrugged. “I enjoy sex. All kinds. And I think we have that in common.”
She looked pointedly to the bottle on the table, then to me. “Where did you get an idea like that?”
I chuckled.
“But,” she went on, “You’ve yet to fuck me. You’ve only gotten me off once. Right now, your grade is in jeopardy.”
“I forgot about the grade.” I stood, taking one of the throw pillows with me. “Come on.”
She slowly got to her feet. “Where are we going?”
“Over here.” I led her across the patio, to a spot where the privacy hedges ended in a gap covered by a metal gate. “These are secondary access to the roof. Maintenance uses them to come and go. You know, I’m not sure what their schedule is? I supposed they could come up here at any moment.”
She tilted her head, puzzled.
“Wouldn’t it be unfortunate if someone came up here and found you—” I dropped the pillow at my feet. “—sucking my cock?”
A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.
“And I should warn you, if anyone were to look over here from, say, those rooms…” I pointed toward the two clearly visible balconies from our vantage point. “They would see you. There’s no way they wouldn’t.”
Hopefully if they do, they’re not wedding guests. I was taking a big chance that the rooms—stationed at the end of the north wing of the hotel—were too far away for anyone to see us without binoculars.
“Are you trying to scare me?” she asked, dropping to her knees on the pillow. “Because being watched isn’t going to scare me. Being caught isn’t going to scare me. In fact, I hope someone sees us.”
I filed that away for later reference, then reminded myself that this was probably a one-night-only performance.
She took my aching cock in her hand and stroked me a few times, slowly, before bringing her lips to the tip. She wetted her bottom lip, her tongue “accidentally” swiping over the shiny trail of precum. Her hand glided up and she rubbed her thumb over the silky fluid, then brought that thumb to her mouth, sucking it clean with a satisfied “mmm.”
My hips jerked forward involuntarily. That made her laugh, and her bratty competitiveness ratcheted up my desire to grab her and fuck her until she came so hard she couldn’t remember to play the game anymore.
She was perfect.
With a smirk, like she’d won some kind of battle, she leaned forward and rubbed her lips, coated in saliva, around my tip, concentrating on such a small area for so long that I almost begged her to stop. If her goal was to make me hypersensitive to the point of pain, she was going to achieve it. She took in a little more and added her tongue, making little whorls over my flesh until my hands clenched into fists at my sides. Every bold word and brave action was thoroughly backed up by her skill. She knew what she was doing. She wasn’t pretending to be sexually adventurous. There was experience behind this technique.
When I was almost at the point of begging her to just suck me, already, she covered the entire head with her mouth and drew on it, hard, her tongue poking along the seam of my foreskin and sending electric shocks through my pelvis. My hand fell on her head and it took real, conscious effort not to force her mouth down my length.
I didn’t have to. She took me to the back of her throat and further, and I watched with amazement as she swallowed me right to the base.
Even I couldn’t deep-throat a dick like that, and I’d tried.
“Fuck…” I let out a long moan, clutching her ponytail in my hand. I had to see her hair down, had to sink my fingers into it. I pulled the elastic band, but it caught, tugging her head back, and her moan reverberated around my cock. Her hair fell free and I dug my hand into the soaked tresses, giving them a sharper jerk. Her mouth and tongue worked me faster, her breath huffing each time she drew back. Her saliva dripped over her pumping hand and onto my balls and her free hand clenched the back of my thigh, fingers clawing in every time I gave her hair another hard pull.
Releasing my cock with a wet smacking sound, she said breathlessly, “Fuck my mouth. Hard. Make me choke on your dick.”
I obliged readily, using my grip on her hair to hold her in place as I drove into her mouth. She did choke, and gag, and drool, sputtering and coughing but never making any attempt to stop me. So, I stopped myself. I had to, or I would have come down her throat right then.
“Get up,” I ordered, still holding her hair in my fist as she rose to her feet. “Bend over the back of that chair.”
She wobbled quickly toward to the armchair I’d been sitting in and leaned over it, a quiet, “oh god,” whimpering from her throat. I tore the box of condoms practically in half and got a wrapper open faster than I’d ever managed in my life.
I wanted to plow into her, deep, and fuck her until the furniture collapsed, but the fact of my anatomy was that most people weren’t ready for me to go that hard right out of the gate.
“We’re going to play a game,” I told her, rolling the condom down my shaft. “You wanted to come, right?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “So badly. Please.”
“You’ll get to. When I’m in you so deep, you’ll think you can’t stand it.” I hoped I had the self-control to follow my own rules. “And you’re going to get there by counting to ten.”
“Ten?” she repeated.
“Ten. Here. Let me show you.” I took her hand and brought it to her vulva. “You’re going to edge right now. Once. You’re going to get close, and then you’ll stop. And then I’ll give you a little—” I bumped my cock against her opening. “As a reward for being a good girl.”
She laughed. “You want me to do it ten times?”
“Not ten times. I said we were counting to ten.” It would be so many more than ten. “You’ll figure it out as we go. Now, begin.”
The effort it took not to thrust forward the moment I felt the heat of her against the latex was harder than the last mile of any marathon I’d ever run, but I managed to control myself as she worked her fingers over her clit. I studied her body for telltale signs of impending orgasm. They were different for everyone. One of hers was a series of short, sharp, ascending cries; they cut off abruptly as she jerked her hand away from her body.
“Wait,” she gasped. “Wait. If you do it now, I’ll come.”
I held still. I didn’t want to ruin the game.
After a few deep breaths, she nodded and gave me a shaky “okay.”
I pushed in, just a little. Not even the entire head. She clenched on me and every instinct urged me to drive in deep. But that wasn’t part of the game. “Now, do it again.” I paused, smiling to myself. “Twice.”
“What?” There was a sense of dawning horror in her question as she realized what I meant by counting to ten.
For every number, she would edge that many times.
“You wanted to know why I wouldn’t let you come? You’ll see why at the end of our game.” I slowly withdrew the miniscule penetration I’d allowed and pushed back, only as much as before. I kept up that short, careful stroke as she brought herself to another edge and frantically motioned for me to stop moving.
“What happens if I come accidentally?” she gasped.
“Then I guess I have to punish you.” I considered the possibilities available to me. “Maybe I make you come for every number, instead of edging. Which do you think would be worse?”
She huffed a laugh and went back to work. After the second denied orgasm, I pushed a little deeper. She moved her hips as if seeking to impale herself on my length, and I held her steady, admonishing, “Be patient. Follow the rules.”
And I forced her to keep to the pattern, all the while desperately clinging to my own flimsy control. By the time she reached five, she was sweating. At eight, she was actually crying. And despite asking her several times if she needed to stop, she refused.
“I’m not going to let you have the satisfaction,” she sobbed halfway through her set of nine.
At ten, I began counting them aloud. That infuriated her. Perspiration beaded on her skin, and on mine. It wasn’t the temperature, but the strain of denying myself. It was a miracle tears weren’t rolling down my face too. Every time I had to lengthen my thrusts, I thought it would be the time I abandoned the game, that I would bury myself in her and explode, but her stubborn insistence on finishing what we’d started spurred on my competitive nature. I wanted the victory. I wanted her begging, defeated. I wanted to win.
“Only one more to go,” I told her, and myself. “One more, and I’ll fuck you harder and deeper than you’ve ever felt in your life.”
“Please!” she cried out, and I felt her tense up around me. She was close. She was so close, she might lose. And if she lost, I would be lost too. There was no way I’d be able to resist. The tightness built and built, squeezing me to the point of pain. She pulled her hand away from her clit and screamed, “Ten!”
And I let my self-control snap.