9. Time Is a Funny Thing
Ihold my breath as I feel him through the thin fabric of his pants. It feels like I’ve forgotten to breathe.
Exploring a huge dick for the first time in your life will do that to you.
I relished watching him squirm when he saw me in my bikini, but I enjoy this reaction better. How red his face is turning, how he’s slowly collapsing against the table, how it looks like he’s also forgetting to breathe.
“Faye.” It’s a warning. But hearing him say my name has the opposite effect. All I want to do is to press on. To get even closer.
“Faye,” he growls again. This time, his fingers wrap around my throat, squeezing slightly. Another warning, like he’s trying to inflict some measure of pain to make me push him away. This one, too, has the opposite effect. I’ve never been choked before, and I didn’t think I’d like it this much. But it feels good. I arch my head back, but still close enough to meet his gaze.
He wants me. I was sure of that at the lake, but somewhere between him refusing to touch me and talking about my ex, I interpreted his words as aversion. Back in the bedroom, I spent the last hour coming to a firm decision about leaving this cabin for good.
And now, I’m here being choked on the kitchen table while stroking his dick.
Time is a funny thing.
A sense of urgency overwhelms me, the need to do even more, feel even more.
Suddenly, I’m reaching for the button on his pants, eager to watch him spring free and to touch him bare.
Maybe even to taste him.
Flame rises up my cheeks. I don’t know how Blake manages to bring out this side of me, a part of me that I didn’t even know existed. I can’t say I dislike it.
And I want to find out more.
He lets out another groan. But just before I can get to his zipper, his callused palm closes over my hand.
“Wait,” he mutters.
I look up at him, disappointment welling up inside me. He’s about to stop this, surely, maybe to say something so disrespectful that I consider leaving again.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls over the nearest chair, settling in it and placing me on top of him so my back is up against his chest. My throat tightens. I haven’t been this close to him except when he carried me over that bridge, and for the first time, I can tell how much bigger he is. His bulk is so great I don’t need to settle on both his thighs to sit comfortably.
“I’ve imagined touching you in so many ways since I first saw you.” His breath, heavy on the back of my neck, causes tingles to run down my spine. “And in every one of those fantasies, it started like this.”
His hands are on my waist now, but this time, his fingers are slipping between the waistband of my pajamas and my skin, stretching the fabric slightly as though to test its elasticity.
“Tell me you’re not wearing panties,” he mutters.
“I’m not.” The words slip out too quickly. I’m that desperate to please him.
Another groan. He grabs as much of the fabric as he can take and shoves it down my legs. In one smooth motion, my pajamas are gathered around my ankles. I kick them off.
I’m now butt naked and sitting on Blake’s lap.
I’m so wet that I can feeling it dripping onto Blake’s pants. I should be curling in with embarrassment, but a crazy thought takes hold of me.
Raising my body an inch from his, I push backward so I can plant myself where his dick is. He’s still clothed but steel hard, and I start to pant the moment I brush up against him. But then I start to slip downward again, and I pull myself up, causing shocks of pleasure to travel past my clitoris.
“Fuck.” Blake’s hands are going up my waist, slipping under my shirt and grabbing my breasts. My throat closes up as he starts to explore them recklessly, fondling as though he has always had access to my body. “When you move like that, it makes me wonder what it’ll feel like, you riding me.”
I moan at his words, and at the same moment, a burst of liquid spills from my vagina and stains his pants in another spot. The contact of the wet fabric against my clit sends another shock of toe-curling pleasure through me, and I gasp.
“Sound like that when I’m fucking you, and I’m going to be doing it all night.” His voice is hard, as if he’s giving a warning, but I feel pleasure brim inside me at his words: When I’m fucking you.
He’s going to be doing that soon enough. And even if I have no idea about anything concerning my future, I know how much I want him.
“Why?” I hear myself ask.
“Why do I want to fuck you?” He nuzzles his face in the hollow between my neck and shoulders. “Baby girl, have you seen you? When you were wearing that bikini, I felt like I was about to burst into flames.”
Knowing it didhave an effect on him pleases me, but I’m still not distracted from my question.
“Why were you keeping away from me?”
His hand stills on my breast, and for a moment, I’m worried I upset him enough for him to put an end to this. But the next second, he’s strumming my nipples so hard that I fall back against him, breathless from the feeling that gushes through my body.
“Because I was trying to do the honorable thing,” he says, now dragging me across his thighs. I feel the hardness of his dick brush against my naked pussy lips, causing me to let out another moan and yearn for the real deal.
Blake’s breath is shallow in my ear. “Turn around,” he mutters.
I can’t not obey him. I twist myself on his thigh, and soon enough, we are facing each other as I straddle him. Being butt naked in this position means I’m gaping open, but once more, I’m not embarrassed.
On the contrary, I’m desperate. Desperate to be filled . . . by him.
His head lifts to mine. He starts to kiss me. I part my lips to let him in, and his tongue slides in, probing, cloying, exploring the inner recesses of my mouth. I close my eyes, completely lost. I have written dozens of romance songs and have read a million romance novels, but there’s always something about the word swoon that makes me amused, because I felt it to be unrealistic.
But in this very moment, that’s what I’m doing. Swooning. Something about Blake’s kiss makes me forget everything around us, the cabin, our recent fight, even our sitting positions. It makes me forget about us, too, until all I’m left with is the thought of how good it feels to kiss him. I have never thought of it as a worthy part of foreplay. Until now. Because kissing Blake feels almost as good as I imagine sex with him to be.
His fingers are slipping down my body now, going lower with each second. He brushes against my clitoris, and I feel a shudder run through me.
“I should punish you,” he says, before brushing past my clit again, this time, in a decidedly hard movement that gives no concern for how sensitive the bundle of nerves is.
I tear my mouth from his and look at the roiling storms in his eyes, more surprised than anything. Punish isn’t a word that I usually associate with sexual pleasure.
“What?”
“That fucking bikini.” Another brush against my clit that sends my toes into a state of permanent flexure. “Watching you there, all wet and drippy. You were probably dripping down here too.” He plunges his fingers into me, no warning of any sort. “Probably hoping I’d fuck you.”
I scream, my body arching backward. Something about his roughness, the fact that he seems like he wants to inflict a hint of pain along with whatever pleasure he’s offering, arouses me. Makes me wonder just how much he’s willing to punish me.
His fingers wrap around my neck again, pulling back, so my eyes meet his.
“Admit it.”
I swallow. My mouth is somewhat dry. His tone is hard, kind of like the way it was our first night at the cabin. This time, though, I have a feeling that there’s more at stake.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” I croak when I can. “I just . . .”
His fingers tighten momentarily at my neck, and my eyes roll to the back of my head at how good that feels. “Tell me how fucking soaked you were.”
I gulp, newly understanding what this is about. Power. Blake might not hate me, but he detests the power I have over him. Probably also hates the fact that he’s now confessed, twice, to how much he wants me. He’s trying to rebalance the scales by getting me to do the same.
A streak of stubbornness kicks in, and I shake my head. “I wasn’t,” I lie, trying to ignore the memory of fluid dripping between my thighs.
He thrusts his fingers deeper, one sharp motion that sends a mixture of pleasure and need through me.
I moan, pushing myself up against him. “Don’t stop,” I demand, even if what I really want to say is don’t stop touching me that way. Blake’s roughness adds a new dimension to what I thought was possible to feel, and I want more.
But he curls his fingers and pulls out of me.
“You’re lying.” His other hand is still wrapped around my throat, and he tightens it once more. “Admit how bad you wanted me.”
I stare at him. His eyes are black whirlpools. It dawns on me that he’s going to withdraw his touch if I don’t obey him.
Elation builds within me, spreading through my body until my arms and legs are covered with goosebumps. I would rather die than admit it to him, but this, being tortured to confess embarrassing things, is a wet dream.
I swallow again. “I did want you.”
“Good girl,” he growls. His fingers part my folds and delve in, a reward for my obedience. I barely have time to savor the pleasure of his entry before he starts to move, mercilessly thrusting in and out, causing small bursts of bliss in parts of my body I didn’t even know existed.
I have never climaxed from fingering before, but my pleasure is multiplying by the second, pushing me closer to that cliff. My walls grip Blake, and I know I’m about to come when he pulls himself out again.
I let out a yell of frustration. “No, Blake, please . . .”
His eyes glimmer with mischief. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to come.”
Is he leveraging my satisfaction based on how well I stroke his ego? “You must be kidding.”
Both hands wrap around my waist, grinding me against him. “I want to hear that these past four days have been as torturous for you as they have been for me. If you do well enough, I’ll give you your orgasm. If you do really well, I’ll let you suck me off.”
My stomach contracts. I’ll let you suck me off. The thought of getting between his legs and pleasuring him with my mouth makes me salivate.
He has somehow managed to make me feel like him getting a blowjob would be a favor to me. And I’m buying it.
This is too much. He’s too much.
I can almost feel my pussy quivering, begging for him to put his fingers back in there. But then the stubborn streak is back, keeping me from letting him in that easily.
So, I settle for something in between. Making sure he’s still staring at me, I pop one of my fingers into my mouth and suck on it.
“Faye . . .”
I slip it down there. Just like that, the pleasure is back, and I moan, thrusting in and out, careful to keep my eyes on his. Blake’s face is brick red; he looks like he’s going to explode.
I never feel quite as sated when I pleasure myself, but this time is different. Blake watching me do this to myself makes all the difference. I can feel his stiff erection beneath my thigh as I continue to slip my finger in and out. Soon enough, I’m arching back again, seconds from a release.
Blake’s fingers close around my clitoris, squeezing as hard as he can without inflicting pain. My rhythm goes askew, and my fingers slip out of my vagina. The moment I lose control, Blake’s other hand holds on to both my arms, trapping them behind me so my breasts are curved toward him, my erect nipples clearly visible underneath my T-shirt. I try to fight him off, but it’s as successful as trying to push off a five-hundred-pound gorilla.
“Only I make you come, baby girl. Now tell me,” he says in a deadly whisper, “or I swear I’m going to delay your orgasm so much you’re going to be weeping, begging me to let you have it.”
My body is shivering, my every cell begging me to give in. I grunt as I try once more to break free, but Blake tightens his hold so it’s virtually impossible. Turning crazy with need, I push my lower body against him, wanting to brush my clit on his dick. But although the motion feels good, it’s nowhere near satisfying enough.
Blake doesn’t even try to fight me on that. He knows it as well as I do.
If I want to come, I’m going to have to depend on him. Even my fingers aren’t going to do the trick tonight, not when I have had him.
I ignore the heat climbing up my cheeks.
“Please,” I cry. This feels both humiliating and elating, being overpowered by a giant who’s intent on breaking me. Humiliating because I was stupid enough to believe I could beat him at his own game. Elating because this is the freest I have felt in almost a decade.
“I’m not asking you to beg . . . not yet anyway. You’re going to beg to suck my dick and beg to have me inside you, but what I need right now is your confession.”
I run my tongue across my lower lip. I’m literally tingly with need, imagining having to beg him for his cock.
“I wanted you,” I gasp.
“Not good enough.”
“I’ve been hoping you’d touch me for the past four days. And I got the bikini from a lady who stopped at the cabin a few days ago, selling scraps. I paid her with some money you left on the table. I thought you’d like it, and I wondered whether to wear it to bed. At the lake,” I gulp, unable to believe I’m sharing this, but also unable to stop, “I wanted you to come over and fuck me.”
His eyes are filling with hard gratification. “I can definitely help with that,” he growls, and slips three fingers in. I yell as he starts to pummel me, going so hard and so fast, I can barely believe he’s not fucking me for real. I curl into him, wanting nothing more than to stay in this moment forever.
But in a few seconds, he has pushed me off that cliff, and I’m screaming louder than ever as my orgasm hits me. It feels good, so good I’m surprised it doesn’t pop a blood vessel in my head and leave me for dead. I close my eyes and savor every bit of ecstasy I’m feeling right now. The knowledge that Blake and I are going to be around each other for the next few days makes me so heady I feel like I’m going to have another orgasm.
But just then, before I can even think of what next to do, something interrupts us.
The telephone rings and jars the stillness that settled after my orgasm.
I slip off Blake and reach for my pajamas as he saunters over. His shoulders are set in fury, and it’s obvious he’s going to tell whoever is on the other end of the line off so he can get back to me.
“Hello?” he snaps. A second later, his shoulders sag, and he turns back to me.
“What?” All my present thoughts, which include being eaten out by Blake while I suck his dick, vanish, replaced by the emotion I have tried hard to escape from the past few days.
Worry.
“It’s Kevin,” Blake says. “And he’s got bad news.”