Chapter 8 #2
I obeyed, scooting into the couch. I hadn’t even turned on music, so I was keenly aware of every sound.
Of the low hum from the refrigerator, of the far-off din of traffic, of the stirrings of a breeze.
But there were no words from him. The silence vibrated between us as I waited, the world dark behind my eyelids.
His fingers found their way to the top of my stockings. Gently, he rolled them down, one by one, removing them, along with my shoes. “Don’t get me wrong. These are unbearably sexy, but I need your bare skin.”
My world went pitch black. He had pressed the silk blindfold over my eyes.
“This is about you. About all the things you can feel if you let go. With this on, all you can do is feel,” he said, low and husky, near my ear.
Oh god, I was feeling everything. I was feeling the tight coil of desire deep inside, and the fervent hope that he’d take me to the far edge of pleasure. That’s what I was feeling.
I drew a quick breath at the soft fluttery touch from a feather running along the inside of my calves.
The feather brushed across my knee. Goosebumps rose on my flesh.
My skin felt electric as the feather traveled across my body, visiting my belly, teasing my breasts, trailing along my sides.
When the sensations stopped briefly I wanted to ask what happened, until I felt the feather once more.
He was tracing the shell of my ear, and I gasped.
Warmth spread inside my body. I had no idea that being touched on my ear like that would be such a turn-on.
I had no notion either that I’d arch my back, seeking closeness, willing him to touch more, when he ran the feather down my arm, inside my elbow and across my wrist. “Your whole body is a playground,” he instructed.
“For now, until you learn to thoroughly give up control, it will be my playground. Isn’t that right, Casey? ”
I nodded and moaned my agreement in a voice I didn’t even recognize as my own.
“Then hike up your skirt for me,” he told me.
I reached for the hem, pulling it up. My skirt was now bunched at my waist. He stopped, and hissed in his breath.
His audible reaction to my body drove my arousal.
We were a feedback loop of desire. I’d move; he’d admire.
He’d say a dirty word; I’d heat up. We fed each other with this fevered kind of lust. I pictured him drinking me in, memorizing the way I looked half-undressed on the couch.
Then I was alone again as I heard him rustling through the box. I knew what was in the box: three things. I was wearing one of them. The other one he had already used. That left only the one I feared. I tensed, waiting for soft to change to hard. For tenderness to turn to a sting.
I emitted a small cry at the first smack.
He had flicked the crop once against the flesh of my outer thigh.
He shifted to the other, flicking me there.
I let out a tiny yelp. Reflexively, I closed my legs.
I wasn’t sure if I liked the crop. I parted my lips to speak, but then his fingertip pressed softly against my mouth.
“Shhh,” he said. “I can tell you don’t like this. ”
In a second, he was trailing the crop down my chest, underneath my bra, and along my rib cage.
Then it was gone.
He must have lifted it in the air again, and I waited nervously for him to swat me.
But instead, I felt something hard against the wet panel of my panties.
He was using the riding crop against my clit like a toy, turning something I hadn’t liked into something I enjoyed immensely now.
He rubbed one end across my throbbing bundle of nerves, stroking me, sending the temperature inside me through the roof.
I sought more friction, more contact, lifting my hips closer.
When he stopped, I heard a whooshing sound in the air, then a smack against the hardwood floors. He’d tossed it away.
Next was the weight of his body on mine, his soft voice in my ear, him whispering, “I never ever want to do something to you that you don’t like. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“You should only feel pleasure with me. You should never feel anything less than desire,” he said, and he was Nate now, the man I trusted inside and out.
The next thing I knew the blindfold was falling loose, dropping to my nose, giving me sight again. There he was, raised on his arms above me, and smelling like sex.
Tonight. God, I hoped he’d take me tonight. Reaching behind my head, he untied the blindfold all the way, then brought it to my wrists, wrapping it around them in a circle, and binding them together in a tight knot.
“I’m going to undress you now.”
He laced his hands around my back, unhooked my bra, and freed my breasts. Then he unsnapped my skirt, tugged it down my hips, to my knees, and over my ankles, laying it neatly on the couch.
His eyes roamed my body, drinking me in from head to toe.
“The panties must go,” he said, a clear command, now back into character.
I held up my bound wrists as if to say, you’re going to need to be the one to take them off.
In one swift move, his hands were on my hips, practically tearing them off, like a hungry, greedy man eager for the prize.
He stood and stepped away from me. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I want to watch you spread your legs for me. Do it nice and slow. Like a tease. Make me so fucking hard, harder than I already am, from the way you open your legs.”
I breathed in deeply, letting the air spread all this electric fire to the far corners of my body.
I was tingling everywhere, burning up across every square inch of skin.
That burn narrowed between my legs, where it became an exquisite ache to be filled.
Slowly, intending to torture him, I raised one knee, watching him as he dropped his hand to his crotch, stroking himself through his pants.
I took my sweet time letting that knee fall to the side of the couch.
He groaned, a rough and hungry sound. I lifted the other knee inch by inch, spreading for him.
Now it was his turn to strip and I never took my eyes away from him, not as he yanked off the tie, undid his buttons, stripped off his shirt, or as he skimmed down his pants.
There was no artful tease. No stage moves or strip show timing. He was a man in need. A man who was finally going to fuck me.
He climbed over me and straddled my waist, his knees gripping me, his rock-hard cock hitting the soft flesh of my belly, the blunt head nudging the silk fabric that held my hands in place.
I wondered briefly where the condom was.
He was down to his birthday suit, after all.
I didn’t really see where he could be hiding it.
And I didn’t intend to let him ride me bareback.
“Nate? Do you have a—”
He cut me off. “Lift your wrists above your breasts. Lift them up here,” he said, tapping my cleavage, “so you can squeeze your tits together.”
I did as instructed, my clasped hands scrunched by the side of my face, as my elbows squeezed my breasts.
He dipped his hand between my legs, and I cried out. At last, he was touching me. I needed it so badly, needed him. He slid his fingers between my slick heat, up, down, up, down, building speed.
Suddenly, he stopped, and his fingers were on my breasts, sliding the wetness across my cleavage.
Holy shit. It hit me fully what he was about to do. He must have seen the moment of recognition in my eyes.
“You wanted me to come, didn’t you?”
I bit my lip, nodding.
“You still want me to?”
“Yes. God yes.”
“Good. Because I’m fucking dying to,” he said, and thrust his hard cock between the tunnel of my breasts. His eyes closed in pleasure, his lips fell open, and he pumped. He fucked my breasts as my bound wrists held them in place, his cock sliding between the slickness he’d used to pave the way.
I watched, mesmerized, as he moved on me, my mouth watering with each upstroke, each view of the shaft that I wanted to suck. I licked my lips.
“You want to suck me off, don’t you?” he said roughly.
“Yes.”
“You want me to be fucking your pretty little mouth right now?”
“Yes. God yes,” I said.
Another stroke. Another pump. “You want to taste me coming?”
“Yes, please.”
“I want that too,” he said, panting as he thrust harder, faster. His jaw twitched. His breathing grew erratic. “But right now, I am in motherfucking love with your perfect tits, and I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
“Then fuck me harder,” I said, my voice strong, guiding him on. I wasn’t going to just lie here. I was going to have some fun too. I was going to be the woman I loved being. Dirty and direct.
“You like that, don’t you?” he said, his lips curving in a grin as he thrust.
“I do. I do like it.”
“You like talking back. You like telling me how much you want my cock. You’ve been dying for it,” he said, as his hips began rocking faster, like a jackhammer.
“I love your dick, Nate. It’s a work of art.
I want to see you come on me,” I said, my body heating to supernova levels as I urged him on.
He stopped talking, and let me do the work.
Gripping my breasts tighter, I guided him home.
“Give it to me now,” I said, like a command.
“Give it to me all over my body. I want to feel you come on my tits.”
“Oh fuck, Casey,” he shouted, groaning loudly as he released himself between my breasts, the warmth spreading up to my neck. He drew a deep exhalation, his arms shaking, his whole face contorted with pleasure.
So fucking beautiful and dirty at the same time. I loved every second of watching him come.
He moved off me and walked to the bathroom to dampen a washcloth.
When he rejoined me, he wiped the evidence of his orgasm from between my breasts.
He brought the cloth to the hamper, then returned to me once more and untied my wrists.
I reached for him, eager to draw him near, wanting more from him.
“Will you please?”
He shook his head. “Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“Show me how you touch yourself. If I left right now, I know you’d play with yourself. I want to watch you get yourself off.”
Pressing a hand on each knee, he gently guided my legs open for him again.
“Look at you,” he said, licking his lips as he stared greedily at my center, his strong chest rising and falling. He seemed to breathe me in. “So wet. So pretty. So pink. I want to see you run your fingers through that pretty, pink pussy.”
Wetness beaded between my legs, calling out for touch. Of course he was right, I’d be stroking myself something fierce tonight if he left, so I did it now. No point in waiting. My body would launch a mutiny if I didn’t give into its demand.
I ran my fingers across my aching clit and closed my eyes, throwing my head back, giving in to the first possibility of sweet release from this mad desire that had been escalating in me all day long.
“Open your eyes,” he told me, and I did. “Look at me the whole time. Look at me. I’m the one you’re getting off to. Tell me how good it feels.”
I panted and moaned as I rubbed faster. “It feels so good, Nate.”
“What am I doing to you?”
“You’re teasing me, that’s what you’re doing,” I said, speaking the truth.
He smiled. “I know. I love it. I love teasing you. But what am I doing when I’m not teasing you?”
“I’m imagining you entering me for the first time,” I said, stroking faster. He groaned, and I saw his dick grow harder. I thrilled at his physical response to me, at the way he seemed barely able to control the lust I inspired.
“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about that,” he said in a low and dirty voice.
My fingers flew faster, wetness spreading. “I want you inside me, Nate. I want to feel you fill me up,” I said, locking my eyes with his. “I want you all the way in me.”
I cried out, belly tightening, my orgasm coming into view. There on the other side it raced closer, ever closer, and I concentrated, seeking it out desperately.
“I want to know how your body feels against mine,” I said in between breaths as I arched my hips, bucking into my hand, my words turning into a chorus of cries as my back bowed and my body flooded with pleasure.
In seconds his lips crashed down on mine, and he kissed me ferociously, incessantly, his hand dropping back between my legs, touching, stroking, rubbing, and somehow coaxing one more crest out of me as I cried out again, coming once more as he kissed me feverishly.
When at last he let go, he kissed my neck, my throat, my collarbone.
“I want you so much,” he said, and his voice was different this time.
It wasn’t the voice of the teacher, the dominating force who told me what to do.
Nor was it my friend who I joked with and talked to and teased.
It was the voice of a lover, the sound of a man, and it lit up my heart in a way I hadn’t expected.
I wanted him too.