Isabelle #4
"Open up, handsome," I purr, my voice slurred from champagne.
He eyes me, but obeys, parting his mouth and tilting his head back slightly.
I pour some of the whiskey into his mouth, then tilt the bottle back, drinking a slug of it myself.
I start to cough the second it hits the back of my throat, and he lets out that barking laugh again, snatching the bottle from my hand and taking another drink himself.
"God, you'll do anything, won't you? You reckless, pretty thing." He swallows more whiskey and sets the bottle aside. "I bet if I had a line of coke right now, you'd snort it."
"Do you?" I eye him, and he shakes his head.
"No. But I'm curious what else you packed in that suitcase over there besides bikinis and tight little dresses. Anything fun? Or did you think you'd get so much dick this weekend that you wouldn't need toys?"
My eyes go wide at that. Most men are threatened by my bedside drawer collection.
The one time I tried to bring them out in bed with a guy I was seeing for longer than a few dates, he freaked out and practically had a panic attack.
But here, this absolute god of a man wants to know if I brought toys.
If I knew his name, I might marry him.
"Maybe." I raise an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because I need a minute." He gestures toward his softened cock. "So I thought maybe we'd see how many times I can make you come before I get hard again. I'm guessing two."
Fuck. I wobble to my feet, padding to my suitcase, and fish out a rose-shaped vibrator and a thick seven-inch dildo that's my favorite. I bring both back, and playfully set the dildo down on the bed next to his hip. "I think it's beating you right now."
"Only for a few more minutes." He looks at me pointedly, and despite everything we've done tonight, I feel myself flush.
"Shut up." I hand him the vibrator and lie back on the bed, raising my arms so my tits go all high and wobbly. I see his eyes flash toward them immediately, and I swear I see his dick twitch a little. "You're running out of time to make me come again before you get hard just looking at me."
I see the amusement on his face, but he rolls toward me, lying on one side as he flicks the vibrator on. To my surprise, he doesn't go straight for my clit. Instead, he reaches out, dragging it over first one nipple and then the other, making me gasp.
"I—"
"I said twice. I've got plenty of time to get at least that." He makes another pass over my breasts, and I let out a soft whimper.
"Has anyone ever told you you're arrogant as fuck?"
"Has anyone told you you're spoiled and full of yourself?"
I gasp as the vibrator moves lower, down my taut stomach, but I give him a wounded look. "That actually hurt a little." And it actually did. But I keep my tone playful—I don't want him to know that.
"Let me make it up to you." He bends his head, taking one nipple in his mouth right as he glides the vibrator down to my oversensitive clit.
Oh god.
The toy is amazing by itself, but no one else has ever used it on me before.
Somehow, that heightens the experience tenfold.
The moan that escapes me when he rests it against my clit would be embarrassing if I weren't drunk and out of my mind with lust, and I realize quickly, as his other hand trails down my thigh, that he might get more than two orgasms out of me before he gets hard again. Because I'm already coming.
The spasms ripple through my body, leaving me gasping and moaning, and he never lets up.
He doesn't even take the toy away when the first orgasm starts to ebb.
Instead, he rises up to his knees, holding the toy lightly against my still-throbbing clit with one hand as the other grabs the dildo and pushes it up against my soaked entrance.
The moment he pushes it inside of me, I start to come again. And, as I clench around the toy, my hips bucking as I moan helplessly, I see his cock stiffening, rock-hard again, before I've even come down from my climax.
"I think you need something more than this," he growls, yanking the dildo free. A second later, he's between my legs, the vibrator still in one hand as he rips open another condom, rolls it on, and thrusts his stiff cock into me in one long, hot slide that has me shuddering.
He groans as he sinks into me, his jaw tight. "Fuck, all those orgasms and you're still gripping my cock like this." He thrusts once, and then rests the vibrator against my clit again on the next stroke. "Let's see how many more I can get out of you."
I lose count. He fucks me in long, slow strokes while using the vibrator, giving me a small break now and then, mercilessly driving me toward another climax. Tears are rolling down my cheeks by the time I feel him start to lose his rhythm, and I wrap my legs around him, pulling him close.
We're both drenched in sweat. He smells like me, and I smell like him, his cologne all over my sheets, my perfume clinging to his skin. As he shudders and comes inside of me again, thrusting hard, I collapse beneath him from my last orgasm, wrung entirely out with pleasure.
I barely see him dispose of the condom. He rolls back onto the bed next to me, his lips against my shoulder, catching his breath. "Fuck, I don't think I can go again," he mutters. "I can't believe I went that long… this… fucking drunk—"
"Me too," I mumble. I feel him start to move, and I grab his arm. "Stay," I mutter. "Is too late to go anywhere."
He doesn't put up much of a fight. I feel him relax beside me, neither of us moving to get under the covers.
Outside the curtains covering the door to the balcony, I can see the first hints of dawn, and a smile curves my lips, a feeling of relaxed satisfaction like nothing I've ever felt before swooping over me.
I really did fuck him all night.