Chapter 6 #2
He lifts my injured wrist, more of a dull ache now, and reminds me not to put any weight on it.
He stands in front of me—not towering, but his presence feels massive.
A tight black shirt rises and falls with his breath, the roughness of his jeans snug against his hips, and his faceless mask gives no hint of his emotions.
“Are you going to do everything I ask you?” His voice is cold, and twinges of danger dance in my stomach.
“Yes.” My voice is so quiet, I don’t recognize it.
He strokes my hair and rests his palm on my cheek. “That’s my girl.”
His words make my skin burn and I try to turn away, but he holds my face.
Instead, I look into his hidden eyes and hold his gaze.
He drops his hand from my cheek, and his fingers trail along my tender neck then push down the strap of my dress.
His other hand searches around my back until he finds the zipper.
With a slow tug, the dress cascades over my breasts but stays on my hips.
He moans as he steps back. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. ”
My dark thoughts make their way into my head and leave my lips. “You probably say that to everyone.”
“It doesn’t mean I’m lying.” His finger traces around my necklace. “This will be the only thing you’re wearing by the time I’m done with you.”
I search his eyes for a hint of what he’s feeling, a clue to what’s about to happen next, and I come up with nothing.
So I start to fill in my own gaps. Behind the mask his eyes are wide, taking in my exposed breasts and the dress around my hips.
He wastes no time taking off my bra and tossing it to the couch.
He massages my breasts, rolling my nipples with his thumbs.
I’m surprised how sensitive they are—maybe it’s the softness of the gloves—but each time he applies more pressure, a jolt goes down to my clit.
Moans escape my lips with each breath. No one has put me on edge without touching between my legs before.
“Mmm, I love the way your body reacts.” His praise feeds the fire simmering in my core. “Do you want more?”
“Yes, please.” Politeness seems to go a long way with him.
He nods and pushes my dress to the floor with one hard motion, and I’m standing in only my thong in front of him. A stranger. I don’t know his face or his name. But here I am, completely willing to give him my body. Who am I? Was this side of me always there, or is this purely situational?
His chest rises and holds for a moment before sinking.
“Stunning.” Everything about me is dainty and cute, from my perfectly coiffed hair to my underwear with tiny bows.
He rubs his chin twice before stepping back into his stance in front of me.
His fingers trace the lines of my thong, the deep V, until he reaches the center.
His fingers pry between the fabric and my skin, and I moan with anticipation. “So needy.”
His finger rubs the outside of the thong between my legs, his soft leather gloves pressing the rough lace into my sensitive skin. “It feels good,” I whisper.
But it’s a tease, a temptation.
“Take it off,” he says in a low growl, and I slide my hands over my body, touching my breasts the way he did, letting myself enjoy my own touch as I bend over, sliding the fabric off my hips and down my legs.
Two steps out of the way, I hold the thong by my pinky, slowly arching my way back up and getting a view of his bulge.
Well, I guess he’s enjoying the view. Another flush of heat washes over me as I stand fully naked in front of him.
In my head, he’s smirking with a seductive smile, his eyes hooded as he watches my every move.
“Are you enjoying this?” he asks.
“As much as you are,” I retort.
“Kitten, I’ve already told you, this isn’t about me. It’s for you.” His fingers brush down my arm as he leans in closer. Our chests touch as he whispers, “Touch yourself. Feel how wet you are.”
There’s a flicker of shame as I do as he says without hesitation or question.
Why does he have such a hold on me? But the shame vanishes when I feel between my folds and the slickness coats my fingers.
“Fuck.” I’ve never been this aroused with such little physical contact.
My fingers continue to swirl around my clit and into my pussy, the pleasure building.
His hand snakes down my wrist and his leather-covered fingers work in unison with mine. “My turn,” he says, moving my hand out of the way. He circles my clit with his thumb as a finger slides inside me.
I gasp and wrap my injured arm around his neck, gripping the table with my other one. I can’t remember when I’ve felt this desired and weak at the same time. He continues to work my body, each thrust makes me moan. I stare at him, imagining him filled with the same desire, wanting me.
“Can your tight pussy handle more?”
Before I can answer, he slips a second finger in and I cry out, his name on my lips. I’m beyond words. The pressure is building in my core. He pulls out his fingers and lifts them to eye level, my wetness coating them. “Have you ever tasted yourself?”
I shake my head. His free hand wraps around the base of my skull as his two fingers move closer to my lips. “Taste yourself, Kitten, and I’ll let you come.”
My mouth opens as I take a long lick from his gloved fingers.
It tastes of musk and leather, but it’s not the flavor that’s doing it for me, it’s the act of sucking him in.
It's the most intimate thing he’s let me do to him.
I stare into his eyes, or at least the point on the mask I’ve been using as a reference.
“Your mouth is a sin,” he groans as he tightens his grip on my hair. One more lick from the base to the tips of his fingers and he pulls them away. He steps back, taking me all in.
“Fox?”
“Yes, Kitten?”
I lean back on the table and spread my legs further. “Would you like a taste?” My anxiety builds, each passing second feels like a lifetime. Did I misinterpret this? Will he reject me? Am I being too forward?
His voice is deeper than normal. “Lay down and spread your legs wider.”
The table is cold against my back and the dampness between my legs isn’t helping matters. As I settle into the new position, he towers over me. He presses his hand on my chest and takes the opportunity to stroke my breast with his fingers as he says, “Don’t lift your head from the table.”
He vanishes from my line of sight as his head dips between my legs. “Fox?” His hands freeze on my inner thighs as I only see the top of his mask. “Don’t forget a pillow for your knees.”
“Damnit, this is for you, not me.”
“I won’t be able to get off if I think you’re in pain. And since I don’t know anything about you, I’ve made up that you have an old knee injury from some sort of sport I haven’t picked out yet.”
I imagine him suppressing a smile as he closes his eyes and groans.
His hands leave my skin and I assume he grabbed a pillow because I hear him adjusting.
Then his hands squeeze my inner thighs with sharp pressure.
“You’ve got such a pretty pussy.” I honestly don’t know what to say. “Thank you” seems weird.
I feel a new wetness at my opening, followed by the guttural vibrations of his moans.
One, two, three deep, long licks before he says, “Fuck,” and starts to ravage me with his tongue.
He drinks from me like a man who’s run a marathon.
When he adds his fingers, it feels like I’m being worshiped by a man whose only chance of heaven is getting me off.
I lean back against the table, but it’s getting harder because my body starts to squirm.
He’s hitting all the spots, sucking my clit like it’s a free lollipop at the bank, and fingering me like he wishes it was a different part of his body.
The pressure builds and my back arches. I will my head to stay on the table.
“Fox!” I cry out as the pleasure mounts and my body breaks under the pressure.
My head presses against the table, grounding me.
“You taste so fucking good and you’re worried about me,” he says between my legs. “That’s going to mean a long night for you.”
He goes back in, more passionate, sucking harder and moaning. This time it takes even less to send me over the edge.
A new fear grips me. What if he doesn’t want to stop?
What if my body can’t take it? But a louder thought takes over.
I don’t want him to stop, and I want him to break me.
I grab the back of his head, the soft fabric between my fingers, and I hold him against my pussy, riding his face and making him mine.
This time his fingers hit something new, and I might die as the largest wave yet hits me.
I want to cry because my body feels detached from my mind.
Pleasure and bliss wrap around my limbs until I’m left a shaky mess.
I don’t see him pull down the mask, but when he stands, he’s covered. “Fox, can I do anything for you?”
He walks to the side of the table and pushes the hair out of my face. “You’re perfect. Let’s just leave it like this.”
The lights flick on and off.
As if he knows what’s happening in my brain, he says, “Dimitri is giving us a five-minute warning.” He lifts me off the table and starts gathering my clothes. With careful, meticulous actions, he dresses me. As each layer returns to my body, I feel less vulnerable.
He smooths out my hair and holds my cheek in the palm of his hand. I imagine a soft, sweet smile across his lips. Everything feels right at this moment.
A new fear sneaks its way into my mind. This is the end. This is it. “Will I ever see you again?”
His thumb brushes against my lips. He breathes two deep breaths before saying, “If you want to.”
I nod. Unlike most men in my life, he follows through on his promises. A stranger I know nothing about other than he rides a motorcycle, is great in bed, and works in my building. Wait … “You have to answer honestly.”
He nods. “I won’t lie to you.”
“Do you work for the Alpha Dogggz Podcast?”
He flinches, and for the first time his voice changes. “Ew.” He shakes his head and returns to the deeper timbre I’m used to. “No, not even on the same floor.”
Giving my body up to someone who thinks there’s only one superior race and who doesn’t believe in pronouns would make me drier than any desert. “Ok, then yes, I want to meet again.”