Chapter 23 #2
“Don’t speak, my perfect doll,” he murmurs.
“Let me enjoy you for a little while. Just like this.” His hand starts at my ankle and moves upward, then his other mirrors his movements on my opposite leg.
He moves my knees so my feet are pressed flat to the bed, and he continues until he’s tracing the lines of my hipbones, his fingers feather-light on my skin. “Look at you,” he goes on.
For a few minutes, he doesn’t say a word. Amir traces my body with his hands, like I’m barely a person at all. In a way, I almost don’t feel like one. The more he touches me, the more it’s clear I’m only here for his pleasure and appreciation, making me feel…
Well, not unhappy. I want to squirm and press my thighs together every time he murmurs a compliment about my smooth skin. I want so badly to drag him down into a kiss as Amir pulls on my lower lip.
But I don’t move. I lie there, just like he wants. Being his perfect little doll.
Every touch and every moment that I don’t push him away seems to embolden Amir. His hands become greedier, become bolder. He pulls my bra down to knead my breasts, his fingers twisting and tweaking my nipples until they’re stiff with arousal.
And all the while, I fight not to give him a reaction. He’s testing me, I realize. It’s another game. He wants to see how long I can be a doll for him.
God, I really shouldn’t be this competitive.
But it only makes me sink further into the mindset of being his doll. I don’t move, feeling like I’m not meant to. I focus on the feelings and the sight of him above me as he plays with my body.
“You’re so perfect for me, Nell,” Amir praises.
“Look at you, letting me enjoy you like this. We’ll have to find new outfits for me to take off of you.
Though you really do look so good in black, you know that?
” His fingers touch the jawbone at my throat.
“Don’t take this off.” This time, I’m sure I can hear the rough undertone of possession in his voice when he tugs on it lightly.
“How long can you be my doll for me, hmm?” he purrs, moving to slip my panties down my hips.
It’s hard not to react as he drags them down my legs, finally tossing them to the floor beside the bed.
My bra stays, though displaced so my breasts are on display for him, and he takes advantage of that fact every couple of minutes to massage and tease.
Fuck. He has to know how hard it is for me to not move. For me to stay staring up at him passively as he touches me and works me up with his gentle, yet wolfish grin. When my eyes are stuck on him as he slides his hand between my thighs to trace my slit.
Even there, he takes his fucking time. Slowly exploring everything he played with in the dark, like my body belongs to him. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t give me what I want; he just…explores.
I bite down on my lower lip, cutting off a soft, needy whine that makes it out just enough to make Amir smile.
“Sweet girl. Dolls don’t make noise, remember?” he asks, leaning over me to study my face. “Do I need to get you something to occupy that mouth? To make you remember what you are for me?” His tone is sly and teasing. Taunting me, rather than upset.
“Maybe we’ll get you something to cover your eyes, too.
After all…dolls don’t need to see, do they?
” He drags his thumb down my lip, forcing my mouth open to slide his fingers between them.
I don’t do anything. He doesn’t want me to, but it’s so hard not to at least flick my tongue against his fingers.
Amir holds my eyes the entire time. Then he finally pulls his fingers free and sits back between my thighs again. “Not a word, pretty thing.” With that warning, he presses his fingers into me, pushing two deep inside me and keeping his eyes on mine while he does it.
He wants to see if I’ll break. But I really, really want to win this new game. My lips are parted, but that’s all I’ll allow myself. No matter how deep he presses his fingers, or how he swipes his thumb over my clit, I just stare up at him.
His pretty little doll.
When he adds a fourth finger, my control almost snaps. My fingers twitch, but I don’t think he sees. I still don’t make a sound, and the glow in Amir’s eyes is practically feral.
“Oh, fuck,” he pants, suddenly pulling his fingers free. “Fuck, Nell—” I’ve never heard his voice sound so rough. “You weren’t supposed to be so good at this.” As I watch, he rips off his shirt and unbuttons his jeans, sliding them down his hips enough to expose his hard, leaking cock.
He’s bigger than I would’ve thought, given his slim frame. But fuck if that doesn’t make it better—and worse—to passively watch him with my hands loosely curled over my head.
He grabs my hips, rearranging my thighs around him, and the moment he lines up against me and sinks in, I lose it.
My breath leaves me in a gasp, back arching, as Amir thrusts deep without hesitation.
My eyes close, but there’s no reprimand.
Only Amir’s murmuring praise as he fucks me.
“That’s it. My perfect girl, you did so good,” he praises, not even trying to make this last. I didn’t think it would be possible for him to get off from treating me like his perfect, broken doll, but here he is, already struggling to fuck me in a steady rhythm.
Not that I mind.
“Fuck, Amir—” I gasp as my hand comes up, fingers reaching for him.
“Can I—” He presses his face into my hand, and I sit up just enough to arch into his thrusts, my mouth open and gasping.
Judging by how wet I am, and how I’m already making soft whining, keening noises, he’s not the only one who got off on me playing a doll.
But that is definitely something that I intend to examine later. Much, much later, when he isn’t here to distract me. For now, all I can do is whimper and whine, my sounds becoming more and more needy with every passing moment.
Amir pins me down with a hand on my throat, leaning over as he thrusts into me, grinding against me before repeating the process. I don’t know how long I’m there, under him, holding his gaze, gasping for air under his fingers.
I don’t know how long, and I certainly don’t care. This is perfect.
He’s perfect.
“Oh, fuck. Amir, please—” My voice is high and breathy, and my hand drags him down towards me, pulling him close. “Oh, please. Oh, please—”
“I know, darling. I know. My perfect, sweet mortician. My Nell.” The possessive growl in his voice is enough. He doesn’t need to say anything dirty or crude.
He just needs to use his words with that tone of voice.
I keen when my release hits hard, one leg coming up to wrap around his hip, pulling him closer. Even though my eyes are wide, my vision is unfocused, and all I can see is the beautiful man above me, his warm, golden-brown skin nearly glowing in the dim light of my apartment.
When he follows me, he gasps out my name, soft and desperate, before burying his face in my throat to kiss and suck and bite. “Just like that,” he whispers against my ear. “Take me just like you’re doing. That’s it, Nell. So good for me.”
The praise is the cherry on top of the sundae, and I shudder around him as he finally slows to just grinding into me, his cock softening inside me.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasp, panting and staring up at the ceiling. “Amir…I think maybe my therapist might have words about—”
Without warning, he flips me over onto my stomach, pulling an indignant yelp from my throat as my hips are dragged up to find his.
“Then let's give your therapist something to be really concerned over, shall we?” he murmurs, nipping my ear as his hand finds my pussy and his fingers press inside. “I’m not done with you, Nell. I’ll be taking pleasure in my victory all”—he punctuates every word with a thrust of his fingers—“night…long.”