Chapter Twenty-Nine #3
“Face the foot of the bed.”
I obey, turning on my knees. Moving to me, she kneels.
Barely touching the fabric, she traces her fingertips along the waistband of my sweatpants.
“I’m going to take your cock out, and I’m going to look at it while I get off.
” Sliding my sweatpants down, she leans in to whisper in my ear as she frees me.
“You’re not going to touch yourself. You’re not going to do anything but kneel here and look pretty, understand? ”
All my focus is on staying still, not bucking my hips forward to find friction on her hand, but I nod. Before she moves away, I lean in to take a deep inhale of her shampoo. She catches me. How a laugh can be adorable and devious all at once, I don’t know, but hers is.
Moving to the foot of the bed, Margot sits, spreading her legs wide.
Flipping on her vibrator, she places it against her clit.
Her legs immediately tense, and she braces herself on the mattress with her free hand.
Teasing the toy back and forth across her pussy lips, she gazes at my cock with unabashed hunger.
Somehow I grow even harder beneath her gaze, cock throbbing until it feels like my heart’s no longer in my chest.
When she plunges the vibrator inside her pussy, my hands twitch. I want to touch her, or myself, ideally both.
“No, Caine,” she hisses. “Hands behind your back.”
I do it. Watching her thighs tremble, and the way the toy grows slicker and slicker as she fucks herself with it is breaking my brain.
“You listened to me to get off,” she pants, clearly nearing climax. “I can watch you to get off.”
I want to protest: I never got off. The proof of that is standing straight out from my stomach, engorged and aching, stealing my ability to think rationally.
Starting with the flutter of her eyelashes and spreading in a bright red flush across her chest, I watch her orgasm build and crest. She doesn’t cry out—her jaw’s clamped too tight, as if she’s withholding the joy of hearing her from me.
Trembling all over, she writhes through it, and then her muscles go lax.
I expect her to stand; to remove my gag.
She doesn’t. With a wicked smirk, she keeps going.
And going.
And going.
I lose track of how many times she comes.
I’m a puddle of need. Harder than I knew I could get, lost to everything except for her gorgeous, dewy body in front of me.
When her pleasure-dazed eyes finally focus, my cock jerks, smacking against my abdomen.
Withdrawing the vibrator, she stands and reaches for me.
Hallelujah.
I wait for her to remove the gag, but she doesn’t.
Leaning down, she rubs her thumb over my tip.
There’s a long, low whining sound. I don’t realize it’s coming from me until Margot mur murs, “I know, poor thing.” Sweeping up my arousal, she puts her thumb in her mouth, making a pleased sound as she sucks it off.
“Tired of watching?” she asks.
I grunt into the gag, nodding furiously.
“Lie down on your back.”
Finally.
The wood floor is hard beneath me, but I don’t complain.
Margot straddles me, leaning forward to remove the gag.
Pressing my cock flat against my stomach, she grinds on the underside of my shaft.
She’s riding me, but I’m not inside her.
She’s sliding, working her soaking pussy up and down my erection.
This is exquisite torment; misery and bliss.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I try to stay quiet.
I don’t know how I haven’t come all over myself yet.
Slick and hot, she feels incredible. She finds the right angle and grinds harder, losing all focus.
I whimper, hands grabbing uselessly at the hardwood.
“Not yet.” The instruction is a gasp. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“Fuck,” I exhale, tremor running through my body as she positions herself over my tip and grinds. “I need more. Please.”
“Are you sorry?”
I nod furiously.
“Words.”
“I’m sorry I listened to you masturbate. I’m sorry. For fuck’s sake, please fuck me.”
Gripping my shaft, Margot positions my cock straight up. Lowering until my tip is barely inside her, she winds me up, rising and dropping until I’m bucking in an attempt to force myself deeper.
She swats the side of my hip. “No. Wait.”
With a groan, I try to relax. The desperate need that’s threatening to carry me away has to go somewhere, though; my head thrashes side to side.
Dropping to her stomach between my legs, she licks my cock. Slow, torturous sweeps of her tongue are punctuated by taking me into her mouth every two, or three, or five licks. I’m trembling, nearly vibrating off the floor.
“If I let you come, are you going to be a good boy? No more eavesdropping?”
“Yes.” I don’t know whose voice this is; it’s pleading, dripping with desperation that would be mortifying if I weren’t seconds from dying of arousal. “No more eavesdropping. Hell, no more haunting. I’ll be such a good boy. Please, Margot.”
She smiles, and I’m gone.