Twenty-Eight Evelyn
Over the past three weeks, Evelyn had seemed noticeably more content at work.
It wasn't the contentment of someone who had found fulfillment there; rather, it was the quiet relief of someone who had remembered her circumstances were temporary.
I had my theories, but she could tell me when she was ready.
We hadn’t spent last weekend together, as we were both busy, but the one before was sublime. She was so easy to please.
She was coming over tonight, and I'd planned for us to cook together again. I thought she might enjoy recreating a dish she'd once mentioned making with her father as a child. Afterwards... I had no shortage of ways to spend the evening.
She would have to leave early the following morning, much to my disappointment. Spending the morning together afterward was important to me. Still, I had no intention of asking her to stay or making her feel guilty for leaving. I wasn’t possessive, only protective of what was mine.
She was mine—we both knew it—but I wasn’t one to rush into making it official. I didn’t just give anyone a choker or ask anyone to be my girlfriend. But Evelyn wasn’t just anyone.
Watching her wear those aquamarine earrings to work every day made it clear that if I gave her something else, she’d never take it off.
She emitted a glow from the moment she walked through the door, jumping into my arms. She patently had a good day which was peculiar, as today was especially hectic in our department with rapidly approaching deadlines.
While I had my suspicions regarding this too, she would tell me in her own time.
As I had hoped, she was excited to cook the dish with me, telling me how she hadn't had it in years.
By the end of dinner she was even more needy for me than usual. I didn't hesitate to take her upstairs because we couldn’t be up for hours as usual.
When we reached the room, I rested my hands on her hips, hooked my fingers through the belt loops of her jeans, and tugged, closing the gap between us. l took a step forward while she took a step back.
My poor thing…she couldn’t even breathe properly when l was this close.
Running my fingers through her hair to the nape of her neck, I let my hand linger there. I brushed my thumb up and down her throat, getting a thrill from feeling her racing pulse.
Spurred on by her need, I pushed my thumb upwards guiding her face towards mine. My lips claimed hers, swallowing what began as a shocked gasp, but turned into a desperate moan.
I took another step, and another, guiding her back towards the bed.
She fell backward, bouncing on the soft mattress, looking delectable below me with her flushed cheeks and hair spread out like a princess.
I straddled her body, leaning over her to work on restraining her arms with simple knots instead of my usual shibari.
Her thighs were clenched tightly as she rubbed them together in anticipation.
The poor thing would have to wait, she was not the only one needing release and I had no doubt watching me unravel atop her would be the most timely method of foreplay.
Internally, I debated whether to wrap her legs together to stop her desperate wriggling, or tie a leg to each bed post so she'd get no pressure at all. I decided on the first option, my sadistic side longing to see her as sexually frustrated as possible.
I got off her, willing to delay my own pleasure if it meant controlling her pleasure or lack thereof.
She frowned in confusion, no doubt having felt my warm arousal on her skin.
The sight of her below me—eager to be restrained for me to use as I please—did that to me. But my self control was impeccable.
"That pleasure you're bringing yourself ends now, and doesn't continue until I choose to bring it to you myself.
" I could say this within a scene to provoke the desired effects from her, but it was not part of our dynamic.
Her pleasure did not yet belong to me, but for tonight I could pretend it did. For tonight, she was mine.
I climbed back on her, sighing at the feeling of her warm skin against my center.
Grinding against her rhythmically, my clit dragged along her toned skin with each movement.
Her eyes raked all over my body, first watching the rolling motion of hips, before settling on the loose locks of hair bouncing lightly over my hardened nipples.
My nipples had always been sensitive, so the tickling of my long hair stimulated them perfectly.
"Uh-uh eyes on me."
She whimpered, as she always did any time I would assert my dominance over her. I slapped her thigh and she looked up with another moan, as she always did upon impact, the good little masochist she was for me.
"Ride my face."
I barely caught her breathless whimper. It sounded like a prayer.
Her face was flushed, partially a look of embarrassment for her bold request but also as if nearing an orgasm herself.
She seemed very sensitive today, as if this was the first bit of stimulation she'd had in a while.
I hoped that was the case. I had nothing against her self pleasuring, but if I had my way she'd need permission.
"Mm? And why should I do that, sweetheart?" I posed, speaking more clearly than her, though I was the one deep within the throes of pleasure.
"I want—"
Her eyes had been angled back down, tracking my movements on the glistening skin of her abdomen, so I took the opportunity to slap her other thigh while she was mid-sentence.
“—To taste you Vanessa, please," she finished with a moan.
I nearly let myself release at her words, but held back. Orgasms always approached faster when one hadn’t been had in a while, and the last few days I’d been getting into bed too late to have any time to enjoy myself. So periodically, I halted my rocking on her torso, so as not to climax.
Running a finger down to her dripping center, her hole throbbed around the tip, trying to take it in. "Honey, it's not looking like you can wait for me to have another round,” I mocked, teasing her entrance in a way that would make anyone go insane.
"Fuck, Nessa please."
I pulled my finger away slowly. She cried out, but I only chuckled dryly.
"While I did say we need to work on your begging, I'm afraid cursing at me won't do."
"Nessa please I— I need it."
I stopped my hips from swaying once again, until my approaching orgasm faded away.
"You see, the specifics are what I'm missing. Honey, I'm not even sure what you're begging for at the moment."
"You," she breathed.
"Adorable as you are, that isn't going to get you anywhere sweetheart. Do you want to have me on your mouth, or have my fingers in you?"
I trailed my fingers back and forth over her swollen clit as I spoke.
"come— coming,” she choked out.
Not coming myself was taking a lot of focus, at this point I needed to stop every few seconds.
"Again, same issue here. Would you like me to come on your face, or come yourself?" I thrust a single finger inside of her gently, not moving it, just wanting to feel her warm walls around me when I inevitably came.
"I'm gon— gonna come."
I laughed, my poor thing really wasn't a good beggar.
"Unfortunately, I don't like that wording much either. It's too much of a demanding statement, less so a respectfully worded question. Does that make sense, my love?"
My body was giving me all the signs of being about to release. Adoring the way her walls pulsed around me and knowing I lacked time, I began sliding the finger in and out of her.
Taking my time, I fingered her for my pleasure alone.
Her body seemed close too, but I’d learned exactly how long she could hold off, so I kept brushing my thumb against her clit regardless.
"Nessa, please—come, can't," she stuttered.
"Aw, that's closer. And you will when I condone it," I cooed. "But now I'm going to. Darling, your body is too perfect for me not to."
I thrust myself against her a few more times, but as my orgasm washed over me, Evelyn's walls also tightened around me the way they did when she was seconds away from coming.
“Fuck— Oh,” she gasped, her legs starting to shake.
At this point it was beyond her control. Even though my orgasm haze I was able to recognize the urgency of her situation.
"Come for me, Evelyn," I instructed, only half a second too late, but close enough to prevent her from panicking for coming early without a command.
She wasn't the type of submissive to give a forced orgasm to. As bratty as she could be, she was the type who would feel immensely guilty for disobeying me. She had warned me, but she’d also held on through much longer and far more intense periods of time.
But I was not going to point that out and make my good girl feel bad.
Particularly, when I deemed the justification to be something I desired.
When she came down from her high, I simply pulled her against me, whispering praises in her ear, before breaking apart to undo her knots.
"I want to actually touch you now though. Please, Vanessa?" she asked, once she’d recovered enough to speak.
I chuckle lightly, brushing the sweaty strands of hair off her forehead. She could barely breathe and still wanted me on that pretty face of hers.
"Sweetheart, as much as I'd love that, it's already late and you're waking up at six."
"I don't want to leave so early tomorrow," she groaned, as if begging me to change that for her.
"Where are you going? It seems important," I asked, trying to understand the circumstances.
"A family thing with my mom's side. It's a few hours away, hence me leaving at seven."
"Hm, where is it?"
"Portland," she muttered.
"That's almost three hours away. Are you at least spending the night?"
"No, that would be too much, a day with my family is more than enough time,” she laughed at my assumption.
"So you're driving the three hours back by yourself at night?" I needed to check I was understanding correctly.
"What else would I be doing?" She furrowed her brows.