Chapter 13 #2
The Narrator Lady is quiet for once, and I let the pleasure flow.
I flutter my eyes closed, and he stops his attention on my body.
Other guys have been fine, scratched an itch I had, but it wasn’t enough to captivate me.
Even in the most intimate situations, I struggled to stay in the moment.
But here, now, he’s all I want, all I can think about, every sensation is him.
“Eyes on me.” he says, dark and commanding.
I open them, and I am instantly rewarded with a “good.” Not a ‘good girl,’ but I’ll take it.
He pushes my dress over my hips until it lands on the floor, then takes a step back to take me in. “God you’re beautiful.”
The countertop is chilly against the small of my back, and the reality of the situation hits me. I’m nearly naked, standing in a mob boss's kitchen, and completely under his control. He’s fully dressed, covered in armor, while I stand here naked, vulnerable.
He rubs his chin as he watches me under hooded eyes. My body reacts, and it’s sent into overdrive.
His lips curl and my chest feels hot, my cheeks burn, and I ache for his touch.
His fingers brush against my stomach, and I shiver.
He continues to explore my body, his touch light but with enough pressure not to tickle me.
His fingers run along my seam over my panties, and he groans. “Baby, you’re so wet.”
I nod because my words won’t work as his fingers dip beneath the fabric and tease me, sliding into my folds, hitting every spot I crave.
I want to reach out and touch him, to feel his beating heart, to run my fingers through his hair, to kiss him…if only to take away the torturous pleasure. Of course, that's the point of it—to make me weak and to crave him. To build anticipation until I’m at my breaking point.
His fingers slip inside, and with every pump, it brings me closer to the edge. The corners of his lips curl as he watches me break apart around him. It’s been so long since someone’s touched me like this. And even longer since I could enjoy it.
I get closer and closer, but he drops to his knees and slides off my panties so I can spread my legs wide.
His hands grip my thighs as he buries his lips between my legs.
His licks aggressively switch between sucking on my clit and long deep laps.
But when he uses his finger inside me the world becomes an explosion of colors and sensations.
The pressure and pleasure build, until his moans break me, and the flood crashes.
He watches with lustful pride as I come.
He lifts his head and kisses my stomach, chest, and neck before meeting my gaze. “I didn’t say you were allowed to come.”
I dip my head trying to appear contrite. “I guess you shouldn’t be so good at it.”
He murmurs darkly, “I like that answer,” before he kisses me hard.
I can still taste myself on his tongue. My body arches to reach for him, while my hands stay locked on the counter. I can feel his cock through his pants pressing against my entrance, and he wants me as much as I want him.
He takes a step back and unbuttons his shirt, tossing it to the floor. A part of me is impressed that he’s not running to get a hanger and steamer. Wrinkles be damned.
His chest is defined, nice, and not overly done. There are a few scars across his stomach, but they’re old and faded. It’s the Claddagh tattoo over his heart that draws my attention.
“My eyes are up here,” he says.
“But I’m enjoying the view.”
He lifts my hands off the counter and turns me around. My chest presses against the icy granite, and with my face against it, I can tell this wasn’t one of the model features. I like it. I mean, I like my quartz more, but still, it’s nice. It has warm undertones.
Wack.
The pain explodes on my ass, and it’s the jumpstart my brain needs to drown out the Narrator Lady.
A second whack gets me locked in and living in the moment.
The third one brings the pain and pleasure.
I forgot how much I enjoy it. My pussy clenches, and the craving starts again.
I almost miss the sound of his zipper and the ripping of paper over my own moans.
I feel one hand rest on my burning cheek, and watch as his other carelessly tosses the condom wrapper on the counter.
“Are you going to take it?” he says as his cock thrusts deep inside. I cry out between the sudden intrusion, the pinprick pain of another slap on my ass, and the pleasure of being whole.
“Yes!”
He pumps deep and hard inside me. One hand snakes around and circles my clit while his other brushes up my spine. He whispers how good I feel. “So warm and wet.” Each motion, each thrust brings me closer to the inevitable conclusion, but I want to prolong this.
When his fingers work up through my scalp and he pulls on my hair, I know I’m his. Any sort of control I thought I had over the situation melts away as the pressure builds again.
“I’m so close.”
“Are you going to come on my cock?” he says dark and wicked as his fingers continue to circle my clit.
I can’t think, only feel. “Yes,” I confess as the tension builds with the constant tug on my skull. I cry out as my hips buck and my pussy tightens around him. He moans as I whimper, coming down from my high.
He withdraws his cock and rolls me over onto my back. His mouth attaches to my pussy again as his fingers find a new path.
“Oh god!” I gasp as he hits the spot none of my other boyfriends have been able to hit.
He works it with his finger as his mouth works on my clit.
I’m not going to survive. It’s all too much.
Too much pleasure, too much undivided attention, and the Narrator Lady won’t let me think about anything else other than the mounting pressure building.
I can’t. It’s growing to a crest I’ve never been to before.
And when I can’t take it anymore, a new flood of pleasure consumes my body.
I’m so wet. God, what will he think? So desperate and needy.
He lifts his head from between my legs. “Such a good girl.”
I could die right here.
He lifts my legs onto his shoulders and pulls my ass off the edge of the counter. Again, no warning as he enters. Of course not. I’ve had mine, this is all for him. My swollen breasts rock with every motion. I grip the edges of the counter until my knuckles are white.
He moans as spasms take over his body. He places his hands on the counter around me and presses his forehead to mine. He pants and catches his breath before kissing me lightly.
Now that the heat of the moment is over, the chill of the air starts to blanket my body. I shiver and he leans back, helping me onto my wobbly feet. He walks me to his bedroom. Kingston is curled in the center of his bed.
He looks up from his puppy circle. “Get off,” Joey yells.
“We already did.”
He gives me a side-eye and pushes the dog off the bed. Kingston gives a low grumble, lifts his tiny body up, walks to the end of the bed, circles twice, and sits with his head on his tail.
Joey rubs his temple. “See what you’ve done.
Bringing in this dog and your fucking incredible body, and somehow you have an even better personality, and you’re everything I fucking want in a partner, and poof, suddenly I have no control over anything.
” He points to the dog. “I don’t even get my own damn bed anymore. ”
I gesture over my shoulder. “I could go.”
“Like fucking hell.” He pulls the corner of the bedspread off and smacks my ass. “Get in there,” he orders and crawls in after me. “I haven’t decided how many more times I’m going to fuck you tonight.”
In case you were wondering, it’s two more times.