Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty Six
Nico
The taste of her, of my release, of her surrender, is still on my lips. A potent, heady combination that's better than any fine wine, any expensive whiskey.
She looks wrecked. Beautifully, perfectly wrecked.
Her hair is a mess, her lips are swollen, her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes, dark and dazed with pleasure and frustration, are locked on mine.
I want to see her come.
I want to feel her shatter against my tongue, to hear her scream my name.
I start to move down her body, a slow exploration.
My lips brush her jaw, her throat, the sensitive skin of her collarbone.
She arches her back, a silent plea for more.
I take my time, a slow, torturous descent that has her squirming beneath me
I linger over her breasts, taking a peaked nipple into my mouth, sucking, biting, teasing, until she's writhing, her hands fisting in the sheets, a stream of desperate, incoherent pleas falling from her lips.
Only then do I continue my journey down.
I press a kiss to her stomach, to her hip.
I can smell her arousal.
A sweet, musky scent that makes my cock, which I thought was done for the night, give a interested twitch.
I'm going to be insatiable for her.
I finally settle between her thighs, pushing them apart, opening her up to me.
Her pussy is slick and swollen, a glistening, pink feast that makes my mouth water.
I look up at her.
Her eyes are wide, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension in their depths.
"Put your arms down by your sides," I instruct.
She does.
"Grab the sheets," I continue. "Don't let go."
Her knuckles turn white as her grip tightens.
"And, remember, no coming without permission," I say, my voice firm. "Non-negotiable."
She sucks in a sharp breath, her eyes wide with a mixture of uncertainty and arousal.
The thought of me holding her on the edge, of denying her release, of forcing her to beg for it, is both terrifying and exhilarating.
"I... I don't know if I can," she stammers. She shifts her hips. "I'm so close already."
The challenge in her eyes is undeniable. A silent dare to make her, to force her to submit to my will.
This is going to be fun, but I don't let it show on my face.
"I know you can," I say, my voice a low, confident murmur. "You will for me."
Her gaze flickers, a hint of defiance warring with the desperate need in her eyes.
"Or we can stop now," I offer, my tone casual, as if the thought of not tasting her isn't a form of exquisite torture. "If you really think you can't handle it."
"No," she says, the word a desperate, choked whisper. "No, I can. I'll be good."
I lean down and press a kiss to the silky skin of her thigh.
"You better," I warn and blow gently on her clit.
She gasps, her hips bucking off the bed.
I ignore her desperate pleas and my own selfish desire, and lower my head.
I don't start with her clit.
I start well above it, the soft skin just below her stomach
She's right. She is too close, so I need to make it last.
I start with open-mouthed kisses all along the crease of her thigh, my tongue swirling, tasting the salty-sweet evidence of her arousal splashed all over it, before moving to the other side.
Her breath hitches.
Her thighs tremble.
I can feel the tension coiling in her body, the desperate, frantic energy of a woman on the verge of losing control.
I keep teasing her, licking and sucking the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, driving her mad with the promise of what's to come.
"Please," she whimpers, her hips bucking, a desperate attempt to get closer, to force the contact she craves. "Please, Sir."
I smile against her skin.
She's not the first woman to call me that. It's no secret, but the word on her lips is different. It feels like more than a title, an honorific.
It feels like a confession. A hard-earned surrender on both sides.
And it's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.
It makes my chest ache with an emotion I'm not ready to name, an emotion that's more dangerous, more powerful, than any desire I've ever felt.
I push the thought aside.
There will be time for that later.
Right now, I have a woman to break.
By the time I've finally finished having every bit of her outer skin with lips and tongue, she's a writhing, sobbing mess, her pleas a desperate, incoherent jumble of begs and whimpers.
That's when I finally give her what she wants.
I roll my eyes up to look at her face, her glassy eyes were locked on me.
I part her folds with my tongue, a slow lick from entrance to clit that has her crying out, her back arching off the bed.
She tastes divine.
Sweet and tangy, like honey and champagne.
I settle more comfortably on the bed, tilting her hips to my desired angle, and take my time exploring her. My tongue swirls around her entrance, dips inside, tasting her right from the source.
I did it the first night too, but tonight, in this room where she gave in to me, it's completely different.
Then, I was making a point.
Tonight, I'm making a memory.
I circle her clit with my tongue, but I don't touch it.
Not yet.
Her hips buck, a desperate, involuntary movement.
"Please," she begs, her voice a choked sob. "Please, Sir. I need... I need..."
"You need what?" I ask, my voice a low, teasing murmur against her slick heat. I look up to make sure she hasn't let go of the sheets.
She's clutching them so hard, they're pulling the sides.
But she hasn't let go of them.
"I need to come," she cries, her body trembling with a desperate, frantic energy. "Please, please, please."
"You come when I say you come," I say, my voice firm, and I go back to my dual task of satisfying myself and torturing her.
I explore every fold, every crevice, every sensitive inch of her with a meticulous, almost worshipful attention.
I learn her body like a musician learning an instrument, learning which touches make her gasp, which ones make her moan, which ones make her sob with pleasure.
Her moans fill the room, a beautiful music that fuels my own desire, my cock swelling, pressing against the mattress.
Gently, I take her clit into my mouth, sucking gently, my tongue flicking against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Her body jumps off the bed, and she cries out.
It's too much for her.
Her body tenses.
"Oh God, oh God, I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." she pants, her body writhing. "Sir, please. Can I come?"
I'm so impressed she remembered to ask in the middle of her pleasure that I nearly say yes.
"No."
The word is a low command, and I immediately pull away, leaving her empty, aching, and so close to the edge she can taste it.
I watch her. I let her hang there. I force her to absorb what it feels like to be in this limbo.
A frustrated sob escapes her lips, a sound of pure anguish.
"It's too much," she cries, tears streaming down her face. "I can't... I can't take it."
"I'll be the judge of how much you can take," I say.
I move away with more open-mouthed kisses on her thighs and stomach, and I'm back to my goal. I don't want to give her too much recovery.
I resume my ministrations, slow and deliberate, pushing her right back to that precipice, her body responding instantly, a well-tuned instrument played by a master.
Her moans become more frantic, her movements more desperate.
She's a wild, wanton creature, lost in a haze of pleasure and frustration.
Her release is so close I can taste it, feel it in the desperate clenching of her pussy around my tongue.
"I'm trying to decide," I say casually, while licking her like a lollipop between words, "if I want you to come on my face or my cock."
Her eyes, wide and wild, fly to mine.
The choice is impossible, cruel, and so damn hot it makes my own blood burn.
"I... I don't... please," she stammers, her mind a muddled mess of desire and desperation.
"I wasn't asking you," I continue. "Just thinking out loud.
" I go back to my casual torture of her.
"See, I could do both, and I probably will.
But this first one, it's going to be the big one, you know?
I mean, how many times were you almost there?
So many times, especially when you count the times you tried to come without asking my permission.
" I look up at her. "Were you counting?"
She just shakes her head, her face flushed and tear-streaked.
She is completely, beautifully broken.
"Then again, I was thinking that I might keep you on the edge all night. Deny you completely.” I keep my eyes on her, watching as her expression turns to one of complete and utter devastation. “Make you earn it after you were such a bad girl earlier.”
I lean forward and press my lips to her clit, but I don't lick or suck.
Just a gentle pressure.
Just a promise of something that may or may not happen.
Her entire body trembles, a fine, continuous shudder that racks her from head to toe.
"You know, the longer you wait, the better it is," I continue my taunt, my lips brushing against her with every word. I laugh lightly, and it makes her jump. "Or so I've heard, anyway. I don't like waiting."
"Me either," she sobs.
"Too bad that's not your decision," I say smugly.
The truth is, I have no intention of letting her out of this damn bed without coming all over me.
Not a chance in hell.
But it's fun to watch her squirm.
Besides that, we've never actually spoken about serious orgasm denial. I may be an asshole, but I won't break the trust of my subs over something like this. When Erica is more clear-headed, we're going to sit down and have a good, long conversation about limits.
"Make you beg me again and again until sunrise. Could you do that for me, Erica? Could you be a good girl and wait?"
"No," she whimpers in despair.
"No? Not even for me?" I ask.
"No, I can't," she says, her eyes finally focusing on mine. "Please, Sir. I'll do anything. Please."
I'll do anything.
God, I love those words. It's the mark of the last-ditch effort, one last, desperate push.
I sigh, letting it blow directly on her sensitive skin.