Chapter 4 Lena
LENA
I stare up at him, my brain still fuzzy from the orgasm, my body already craving more.
The responsible answer is no.
The safe answer is no.
But I've spent too long being safe, being responsible, being with boys who didn't know what to do with me. "Yes," I whisper. "I want to come home with you."
He smiles like he knew I'd say this—damn him—and I know I'm in way over my head. "Good." He takes my hand again, threading our fingers together. "Let's go." I give him a little nod, and he takes me to his car.
Gabe's fingers dig into my thigh the whole drive over, his thumb pressing slow circles that creep higher with every stoplight.
The car feels too small for the tension building between us, and I don't pull away.
I let my knees fall open a little wider instead, the dress riding up until his hand rests against bare skin.
He glances over once, eyes dark in the passing streetlights, and squeezes just hard enough to make me bite my lip.
We pull into his driveway, and he cuts the engine without a word. The silence wraps around us as he gets out and walks around to open my door.
He takes my hand when I step out, his grip firm and unyielding, and leads me up the walk to the front door.
The house opens up around us when he unlocks it, all clean lines and sparse furniture, the kind of place that screams control. No lights come on.
Moonlight filters through the big living room windows, casting a pale glow across the hardwood floors.
He shuts the door behind us and turns to face me. "Take off the dress."
My pulse races in my ears. I reach back for the zipper, fingers clumsy at first, but I manage to tug it down.
The fabric slides off my shoulders and pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my bra and panties.
The damp spot on the panties stares back at me in my mind, and heat floods my cheeks.
He stands there with his arms crossed, watching every move, his expression calm but intense.
"Now the rest."
I unhook the bra and let it drop. The panties follow, sliding down my legs until I kick them aside.
Naked skin prickles everywhere his gaze lands. He steps closer then, close enough that I feel the heat rolling off his body, but he doesn't touch me yet.
His finger traces a single line down my spine, from the nape of my neck all the way to the curve of my ass, and I shiver hard enough that my breasts bounce slightly.
"Good girl," he says, the words simple and approving. "Bedroom. Follow me."
His hand presses flat against the small of my back, guiding me down the short hallway.
The bedroom door swings open to reveal a big bed with sheets pulled tight, dark wood furniture, a full-length mirror dominating one wall, and tall windows on the opposite side.
He positions me right in front of the mirror, my back to his chest, his hands settling on my shoulders to hold me steady.
"Look at yourself in the mirror," he says right next to my ear. "Keep your eyes open the whole time."
I stare at our reflection. My face glows red, chest heaving, nipples peaked and begging for contact.
He towers behind me, still fully dressed in his shirt and jeans, the fabric straining across his shoulders.
His hands slide down my arms, then up to cup my breasts, squeezing with just enough force to make me gasp.
Thumbs circle my nipples, pinching lightly at first, then harder until I arch into his palms.
"You want more," he states, not asking. One hand stays kneading my breast while the other trails lower, over my stomach, fingers combing through the trimmed hair at the top of my pussy.
He parts me with two fingers, stroking through the wetness there, and I watch it all happen in the mirror, the slick shine coating his skin.
"Yes," I breathe, hips shifting forward.
He presses his palm flat against my clit and rubs in firm circles. "Yes what?"
"Yes, sir."
His cock hardens against my ass, thick and insistent through the denim. "That's my girl." Fingers slide inside me, two at once, curling deep to hit that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
I grip the dresser’s edge for balance, but he bands his other arm across my chest and holds me upright.
In the mirror, I see his hand pumping steadily, knuckles disappearing into me over and over, my thighs trembling as wetness drips down.
"Don't come," he warns when my breath hitches. "You hold it until I give permission."
The pressure builds fast and brutal, every curl of his fingers pushing me closer.
I whimper and clench around him, fighting the wave, but he knows exactly when to speed up, grinding his palm against my clit until tears prick my eyes.
Right at the white-hot edge, body shaking and ready to shatter, he pulls his fingers free. The emptiness aches, and I whine in protest.
"Not yet." He spins me to face him, drops to his knees without hesitation, and throws my leg over his shoulder.
His mouth seals over my pussy, tongue plunging deep before flattening against my clit.
He sucks hard, relentless laps and flicks that have me grinding down on his face.
Fingers dig into my ass cheeks, spreading me open, and his tongue dips lower, circling my entrance, then pressing flat against my ass.
No one has ever licked me there.
The shock of it rips a moan from my throat, the pleasure dirty and overwhelming.
I clutch his hair, hips bucking.
He breathes against me, the vibration shooting straight through my core, and brings me right back to that edge again, tongue fucking into my pussy now, nose rubbing my clit, one finger circling my ass with slick pressure.
I'm sobbing, body coiled so tightly it hurts, every nerve screaming for release.
"Please, sir," I beg, voice breaking. "I can't hold it. Please let me come."
He lifts his head just enough to meet my eyes in the mirror. "Not until I say. Color?"
"Green. Please."
He dives back in, adding a finger to my pussy alongside his tongue, thumb pressing my clit.
The build hits like lightning, unbearable, and he stops again, mouth pulling away completely.
I cry out at the loss, thighs quivering around his shoulders.
"Bed," he says, standing and wiping his chin. "Face down, ass up."
I crawl onto the mattress on shaking arms, knees wide, forehead pressed to the sheets.
The first spank lands sharply across one cheek, palm connecting with a crack that echoes.
Heat blooms, instant and fierce.
"Count them." His eyes are dark, and the smile on his lips is enough to make a fresh wave of white-hot excitement shoot through me.
"One," I gasp.
He alternates sides, each smack harder than the last, building the sting until my ass throbs and every strike sends fresh wetness trickling down my thighs.
By eight, I'm pushing back into his hand, craving the pain that twists into pleasure.
He pauses, rubs the heated skin in slow circles, then delivers two more in quick succession.
"Ten," I moan, voice muffled by the mattress.
His fingers trace between my cheeks, gathering slick from my pussy and coating my ass.
One presses in slowly, just the tip at first, then deeper until the knuckle breaches.
I've never felt this before, the stretch burning sweetly, and I rock back onto it.
"You like that," he observes, pumping the finger steadily while his other hand spanks lighter now, teasing the sting. "Never had anyone take you here?"
"No," I admit, the word a half-sob. "Only you."
He adds a second finger to my ass, scissoring gently, while his mouth returns to my pussy from behind.
Tongue lashing my clit, fingers thrusting in tandem, he brings me to the edge once more.
My whole body seizes, orgasm hovering so close I taste it, muscles fluttering wildly.
"Stop," he commands, everything withdrawing at once. "Not yet."
I collapse forward, panting, tears streaking the sheets. "Sir, I need it. Please."
"Bedroom window." He hauls me up and walks me there, pressing my front to the cool glass.
The yard stretches dark and empty below, houses silent across the street.
His knee nudges my legs apart. "Hands high on the glass. Anyone looks up, they see you like this."
He drops behind me again, hands spreading my ass wide, tongue everywhere, clit to entrance to ass, sucking and licking with filthy abandon.
Fingers pinch my nipples through the position, twisting until I keen.
The exposure heightens it all, fear spiking the pleasure, and he drives me straight to that blinding edge again, body convulsing on the brink.
He stops.
With the fingers and his mouth gone, I slump against the window, sobbing openly now, pussy clenching on nothing, ass throbbing and empty. "Please," I beg, turning to face him when he pulls me back to the bed. "I'll do anything."
He sits on the edge of the mattress, legs spread, and strokes his cock through his open fly.
It's thick, veined, tip glistening. "On your knees, then. Show me how bad you want it."
I drop fast, knees hitting the floor between his legs.
My hands reach for him, wrapping around the base, feeling the heat pulse under my palm.
I lean in, lips parting, tongue flicking out to taste the salt at the head. His breath catches roughly, hand coming to my hair but holding back, letting me lead.
I take him in slowly, mouth stretching around the girth, hand stroking what won't fit.
Saliva drips down, making it slick, and I bob deeper, throat relaxing to take more.
He groans, hips twitching, but stays still. The mirror captures it all—me on my knees worshiping his cock, him watching with hooded eyes, control fraying at the edges.
My free hand cups his balls, rolling them gently, tongue swirling the underside on every upstroke.
He throbs heavily against my tongue, pre-cum coating my throat.
I pull back to the tip, sucking hard, hand pumping fast, then plunge deep again, gagging wet but pushing through.
"Fuck, Lena," he rasps, fist tightening in my hair. "Right there."
I hold him there, lips sealed around the head, hand twisting at the base, tongue pressing the vein.
His cock jumps, straining, his breaths coming sharply and unevenly.
The room narrows to this, his heat in my mouth, my hand owning the rhythm, the precipice we've both danced around now staring back at me.