Chapter 22 #2
Jamie closed her eyes. Oh, fuck. A burning sensation that was more titillating than worrying flooded her.
All right, more like flooded her nether regions, but that was neither here nor there.
Etta didn’t use much at all, but she was thorough, fingers parting her slit, rubbing her clit, sinking between her wet folds, and…
making her numb. She couldn’t feel a damn thing going on down there. Not even her touch.
This stuff sucked.
“Are you kidding?” she muttered. Etta didn’t hear her. She was too busy admiring her body. “I can’t feel my own fucking pussy?”
Five seconds later, it hit her. Like a semi-truck.
“Oh my God!” she gasped. “Etta!”
She stepped back. “What?”
How could she describe it? It wasn’t just warmth.
It was a million sparks going off, hitting her gut, her heart, her head.
Jamie had felt arousal before, obviously.
She had felt the crazed need for someone – mostly Etta – to plow, no, pound her until she didn’t know what her name was anymore.
This? This was that. Only times, like, infinity!
The tingles spread through her body. Most tingles did so slowly, gently caressing her skin and awakening her to the idea of passionate lovemaking.
These tingles didn’t give a solid fuck and burst through her like horses from the gate.
While everything was centered in her thighs, her whole body felt it.
Craved it. The heat completely claimed her, turning her into a frenzied animal that only wanted one damn fucking holy shit right now thing.
“Do it!” she shouted at Etta, her foot nearly smacking her in the leg. She jumped back, dropping the bottle. “You gonna fuck me or not?”
She couldn’t help her language, her volume.
Etta wanted her to be loud? Oh, she would be loud.
She would be demanding and insistent, too.
As far as she was concerned right now, she had a right to be satisfied, to be taken to places she had only ever heard of.
Lovemaking? What lovemaking? Jamie was going to get her sex fix, and she was going to get it now.
Etta was lost in shock at first, but she quickly recuperated, shoving her back down onto the bed and crawling between her legs.
That’s right. You be a Domme. You make me scream.
Jamie must have had the most menacing face she had ever seen on her, for Etta said, “I’m glad your hands are tied up right now. Wow.”
She took her sweet time unzipping, unbuttoning, and torturing the woman she subjected to this fate. Jamie was on the verge of tears, her need for sexual satisfaction so intense that she groaned, desperately trying to reach her slit with her bound hands. Etta, however, kept pushing them away.
“Don’t think so. That’s mine to take.”
“Then hurry up! You have no idea what this shit is doing to me!”
“No, I don’t, but I think I like it.”
“Fuck you!”
“I think you mean…” Etta dared to untie her hands, clutching her wrists and shoving them against the headboard. Before Jamie could shout in defeat, her wrists were tied there, and Etta loomed over her, hands firmly on either side of her head. “Fuck you, right?”
“Oh my Goooodddd.” Her wail shook her feet, toes digging into the bedspread for relief. “Fuck me! Please!”
“Wow,” Etta said again, looking down. “You are wet.”
“No shit!”
“No, I mean, more than usual.”
“Fuck me!”
When she finally did, Jamie thought she had died – or at least left her poor, hapless body to the whim of destiny.
Few people had ever seen her act like this. In fact, she was pretty sure that Etta was the only one who could possibly have, seeing as how her ex-girlfriends and hookups could barely stay in the mood sometimes, let alone cover her in the most expensive, potent magic in the world.
As wonderful as this was, Jamie was pretty sure she didn’t want this to be a common occurrence. Her fiancée’s strap-on was supposed to be a welcomed addition to her body, not absolutely necessary for her existence to continue.
Etta’s curses and groans matched hers, probably because she was going fuck-nuts around her waist – legs shaking, body yearning, and face contorting in what probably looked like pain but was anything but. Yet if Etta didn’t take care of her fast? It probably would turn into pain.
Etta could barely keep up with Jamie’s thrusts, but she still managed to make it seem like this was all part of her master plan to please her fiancée tonight.
No matter how much she spoke to her, however, or how much she touched and stroked other parts of her body…
Jamie could barely acknowledge it. She was too lost to a world of personal pleasure that was unlike anything she had ever experienced before.
She came multiple times, but they weren’t the satisfying kinds of climaxes a woman looks forward to.
The kind that scratch the sexual itch and bring endorphins to places untamed.
No, these were almost medically necessary.
And they followed each other, one after the other, exhausting her even though she still didn’t feel satisfied.
It wasn’t until Etta clung to her hips, pushing the strap-on deep inside of her, that Jamie finally felt any semblance of relief.
“Oh, my God,” she muttered as her hands came down from the headboard and she nearly passed out. “If we ever use that shit again, half the dosage. I think I almost died.”
Sweaty, breathless, Etta collapsed beside her. “I think I almost died too.”
“No. You don’t understand.”
“I started feeling it too. That stuff is intense.”
“You need to put it away. Lock it up. Put a timer on it so it can only be opened once or twice a year. I’m serious.”
“Well, at least we can say we tried it…”
She probably said more, but Jamie was out, like the rest of her poor body.