Chapter THIRTY-THREE
(Charlotte)
I waited for him, my tits sliding in the shockingly cold and deep frosting. There was no cake beneath, but something sturdy, which was I was grateful for. Otherwise, I might slide and end up on the floor.
It was a risk, I knew. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to follow through. But my horniness bolstered my courage as he slowly made his way down the stairs and the crowd eagerly closed in around us.
He stepped up behind me, his hands moving between us to open his zipper. “Are you sure about this?”
No, not at all. Which was what made it so thrilling.
He snapped his fingers, and a staff member appeared at his elbow.
“Lube,” Matt commanded. “And a condom.”
“No condom,” I practically begged him. I knew anal was supposed to be easier with one, but I didn’t care. “I want you to come inside.”
I could have sworn he actually growled.
I pressed my forehead against the cake, not caring that I was smearing frosting everywhere. Not caring about anything but the fact that probably two hundred strangers were about to watch me get fucked in the ass in a birthday cake.
It had never been one of my fantasies until that very moment, and then it was the only thing I’d ever wanted so bad.
Matt worked the plug out of me slowly, with that same twisting and pushing motion, until the widest bit easily slipped free and the rest of the toy followed. Someone had arrived with the lube, and, again, it felt as though he’d emptied the bottle between my cheeks. Something plastic touched me, entered me, and I felt the cold gush of more lube inside me. It was a strange feeling, one that made me squirm again and again as it repeated.
I looked over my shoulder again to see that it wasn’t Matt administering the syringes of lube, but the male staff member he’d first flagged down. Another man was working at lubing up Matt’s cock, pouring more and more into his hands, gliding it over him from tip to base, wetting the front of Matt’s trousers.
He was going to stay fully dressed for the whole thing.
Fuck, that was hot.
“Friends and esteemed guests,” he said, raising his voice to command their attention. “My lovely companion for the evening has offered to give me a gift she’s never given me before.”
There were a few laughs.
“And she wants you all to see,” he went on. “But I don’t want to be the only one enjoying this. My date loves to be watched. She likes to put on a show. And I’m sure she would love it if you would display your appreciation through voyeuristic masturbation.”
The crowd cheered, and I practically came right then.
He was absolutely correct. I didn’t want them to watch. I wanted them to get off watching. I wanted them focused on me, on my naked body smeared with frosting, on the lube running down the backs of my thighs, on Matt’s cock spearing into my ass and my reaction to that. Their enthusiasm pushed my desire higher, until I was barely hanging on, barely stopping myself from pleading with him to hurry up and fuck me.
Matt’s pant legs brushed against my naked thighs. He’d taken his jacket off; I felt the warmth of his body through his shirt as he leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Are you sure?”
I nodded and said, “Yes.”
“You only need to say ‘red’ to stop me, all right?” he went on, a note of apprehension in his voice. “You don’t have to keep going for anybody else’s benefit if you don’t like it.”
“I know,” I whispered back, repositioning my hands in the slippery frosting. “I want you to do it. Please fuck your princess in the ass, my dragon.”
I knew those words would get me what I wanted, and they did. He growled and sank his teeth into my shoulder with enough pressure to hurt. I moaned and wriggled back, and the tip of him brushed over my hole.
“Are you ready?” he asked, and it was for the benefit of those watching as much as my own.
I didn’t have a chance to answer before the lube did its job; an intense burn knocked the wind out of me as he slid right inside. Not a little. Once the head was in, he hesitated, groaned as if dismayed at his loss of self-control, and plunged all the way inside.
I cried out, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes at the intrusion. It was better than the times I’d tried before, so much better, but it was still shockingly painful. Sweat burst out on my skin, and I whimpered again, but before he could stop, I urged him on. “Fuck, that’s good.”
Because it was. The pain radiated out in cold bursts across my back, ignited that part of my libido that wanted it rough. He moved slow, stroked deeper, never fully withdrawing, which made it more comfortable. Other guys had been with had penetrated me over and over, and I’d never lasted more than a handful of thrusts. The pain started to fade, but the cold sparks didn’t. They came faster and faster, despite the slow, but still deep, strokes of Matt’s cock inside me.
The guests crowded around shouted encouragement with things like, “Take it, baby girl,” and “Fuck her harder,” which Matt heeded. His hips slapped against my ass. His hand wound in my ponytail. Where my hair went, I had to follow, jerked up to a nearly standing position.
It changed the angle of penetration, pulling a shocked cry from my throat. He wasn’t as deep like this, but the curve of him felt like it was rocking against my G-spot from a new and exciting side.
His other hand clutched at my hips, then my breast, smearing the frosting over my skin, slicking it down and parting my folds to get to my throbbing clit. His fingers brushed it, and I moaned, pumped my hips in time with his.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his strokes quickening. “You’re so incredible.”
I couldn’t reply; those cold twinges raced from deep inside me, in my ass, in my cunt, under his fingers, from his cock, and they coalesced to grip my spine in an icy vise.
“I’m not gonna last,” he hissed, and I could imagine how tightly his jaw was clenched, how the veins in his neck stood out.
I could imagine because I was so familiar with him now. Every one of his physical responses to me had burned into my memory. I wouldn’t forget a blink or a twitch. I wouldn’t forget his hunger for me, that never seemed to be satiated.
His thrusts became erratic, battering me almost off my feet. Then, I was off my feet, his hands around my hips to violently jerk me up with every slap of his body against mine, and he shouted as he erupted inside me, filling me with scorching bursts.
Those cold sparks exploded, and I came with a shocked scream; what felt like two orgasms at once hit me, one from my clit, one from the burning stretch of him in my ass, and I shuddered violently, collapsing into the cake while he finished with a few more deep thrusts into my rag doll body.
He sagged over my back and the crowd around us burst into applause and—when I finally opened my eyes to scan the room—not a few orgasms. Cum splattered the floor and ecstatic partners, and I would have loved to watch more if not for all the effort it took to stay upright.
Matt pulled out, and I buried my blushing face into more frosting at the feeling of the hot trickle between my cheeks.
“Put the plug back in,” Matt instructed someone as he stepped away. “I want my cum inside her all night.”
The cold steel was soothing as it slid easily back inside. Someone handed me a hot towel and said, “To get the frosting off your face.”
I laughed at the insinuation that that was what needed cleaning up but accepted it and carefully wiped as much off as I could.
Matt had tucked himself away again and handed a used towel off to another staff member. Someone returned his cane to him; with the adrenaline wearing off, he leaned heavier on it now than he had before. He put an arm around my waist and pulled me against his body, gazing down into my eyes. I wet my lips.
His own twisted in a smirk and he captured my chin in his hand, turning my face back and forth. “Wow, the setting spray is still working.”
For a moment, I’d thought he would kiss me. I’d wanted him to.
Maybe that was my cue that it was time to go. Not from the party, but from the resort. From our arrangement.
From him.
I just needed to find a reason he’d be better off without me.
****
(Matthew)
We stayed at the party far longer than I’d intended, but Charlotte had insisted we shower off in the locker room and get right back into things. She’d happily tried out a few machines, thoroughly eaten out two fellow guests, and watched and masturbated while I got fucked by a guy in my private room.
She treated the party like a sexual marathon, which I appreciated, though by the time we got back to the house I could barely walk. We took quick, utilitarian showers and collapsed into bed, and when I woke, the sun was going down.
Charlotte was nowhere to be found.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and gave myself a moment to reorient. I hadn’t been drinking heavily the night before, so my headache was purely the consequence of too much sex and probable dehydration. “Charlotte?”
“In the kitchen!” she called back.
I pulled on some boxers and grabbed my cane. After the night we’d had, the wobble in my step was unavoidable. I’d overdone it, and I felt every step. None of the lights were on in the hall or the living room. I navigated my way to the kitchen in the dark.
Charlotte stood framed in the fading bronze light of the sunset, wearing my shirt from the night before. It was unbuttoned, revealing a long strip of her bare body beneath, and the sleeves were rolled up, but it was still too much clothing. I wanted to haul her back to bed, spoon up behind her and revel in the comfortable warmth of her skin.
My gaze dropped to her hands, clutching a plate with one chocolate cupcake and a single burning candle.
“Since the birthday cake at the party wasn’t real,” she said, twisting the ball of her foot nervously on the floor.
I ran a hand through my hair and made my way toward her across the room. “Did you—”
“No, no way.” She shook her head firmly. “I asked room service for it. I hope that doesn’t spoil the spirit in which it was intended.”
“Of course not.” I put my hand out to regain my balance with the back of one of the bar chairs at the island.
“I figured the party last night was kind of—”
“Hectic?” I suggested.
“Fake.” The word was shockingly blunt, coming from someone holding a birthday cake.
“Okay, that might spoil the spirit in which this was intended,” I said slowly, gripping the next chair to limp the rest of the way to her.
She slid the cake onto the island and sighed. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to lie to you. Those people weren’t your friends. They were groupies, and you know it.”
“I do.” No sense in arguing about something that was so obvious. But what had changed between last night and now? “I thought you enjoyed yourself.”
“I did!” she hurried to reassure me. “And it was fun, and it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that I’m happy to have had. And to have had with you. It was a fantasy come true, like you said.”
“But,” I provided for her, dreading what might come next.
“I’m not fake,” she said quietly. “I mean, I don’t want to keep being fake.”
My heart leapt at the words. This was the woman I’d been warned about falling for. The woman who left a trail of broken hearts in her wake, if Scott could be believed.
Was she asking me for more? For what I’d come to want, desperately?
“Go on,” I said, my voice a dry rasp.
“I think…” She closed her eyes, like looking at me would make whatever she wanted to say impossible. “Tonight is my last night here.”