15. Elyse #2
He stops suddenly, peering up at my face before homing back in on my pussy, his brow furrowed in the sexiest kind of concentration. Then he’s taking two fingers and sliding them deep inside me. He crooks them, and I moan. My clit is screaming for attention.
“Can’t let you come just yet, baby,” he says, the softness of his words belying the evilness of his words. “I need to have a little more fun with you before I do.”
“Orgasm denial is a hard limit,” I spit out, disgusted with this turn of events, and he gives me his lovely, throaty chuckle.
“I know, I know. This will make it even better for you. Besides, I wanna take my time playing with you. This insistence you have on coming is very unreasonable.”
“Unbelievable,” I huff, but he’s sitting upright and busying himself with the array of vibrators on the table. I can see now that his erection has reached epic levels, jutting stiffly out, its crown red and angry and weeping precum.
“I don’t think I’m the only person who needs to come,” I tell him.
He grins as he picks up a thin wand and assesses it. “Touché. But only one of us has any self-control.”
“Only one of us has already had an orgasm,” I retort, dragging my hands uselessly over the armrests. My skin is hot. Everywhere tingles. I feel actually feverish. This need for release is a full-body sensation, make no mistake.
“I never thought the sweet little ingenue I propositioned would be so mouthy once I got her worked up.” He holds up two vibrators—the thin wand and a monstrous-looking dildo. “Best fucking surprise I’ve had in a long time. Now, let’s play a little more. I know you’ll like this.”
When I was living in Manhattan, I had a vibrator, but it was nowhere near the size of this thing. These days, it sleeps in my underwear drawer, carefully hidden inside a sock. Sleeping a yard away from your sister doesn’t work so well with electronic date nights.
Sinclair works my chair’s foot pedal, and I ratchet upward until my pussy area is on a level with his dick.
Next, he presses a button that reclines my chair until I’m lying farther back.
He’s improved the angle between us, I realize.
I watch with fascination as he squirts some lube onto the dildo.
Positioning it at my entrance, he turns it on.
The cold of the lube and the vibrations of the device are joint shocks, and when he drags it through my folds to my clit rather than pushing it in, I nearly pass out from the sheer pleasure of it.
“Oh my God,” I manage. “So good. Oh God, keep going.”
That’s a surefire way to get him to stop, obviously.
With no hesitation, he finds my entrance again and pushes it in hard.
It’s cold where the real thing would be hot as hell, but shit, does it feel incredible.
I stare up at him, gripping the armrests for dear life, as if this is an ejector chair and he’s about to catapult me into outer space.
Not a bad analogy, surely, for how he’s making me feel.
Still standing, he surveys me as he feeds the dildo into me.
Sex king is right. This man could rule the underworld.
Casual as you like, he flicks the little wand on.
“Tell me if it’s too much.” He touches it to my left nipple for the briefest moment, and it’s like a lightning bolt in the best possible way.
I jolt in the chair as if he’s defibrillating me—and he kind of is, I guess. “How is that?”
“So good,” I manage, which I think is pretty articulate.
He smiles, the proud instructor enjoying how far his pupil has come.
“What a very good girl you are.” And the wand taps my other nipple.
He continues to fuck me slowly, almost lazily, with the dildo as he alternates the wand between my nipples for a few moments before turning it off and throwing it onto the table.
He crouches over me and kisses me just as slowly and lazily before he works his way down my body, pulling one nipple into his mouth and doing something devastating with his tongue before repeating the exact same move on the other side.
He’s nothing if not democratic. With herculean effort, I raise a hand to tug hard on his hair, and he groans against my breast.
And then, somehow, he’s backing away and bending farther, tilting his head so he can lavish my clit with more decadent licks as he keeps feeding me his toy.
It’s so much—it’s so completely and utterly insane that I might die from it.
My nervous system is playing a symphony right now; everything is as it should be as he licks and sucks, as he fucks me, and I start to tremble.
“Oh shit,” I say, unable to withstand any more. I’m flying now, soaring like a bird over Manhattan. “I—”
“Wait,” he barks, straightening up. “No. Wait. You come on my cock or nothing. Fuck.” He pulls the dildo out and turns it off.
With record speed, he rips open a condom from the table and pinches the end, working it over his length with anguish written all over himself as I lie here uselessly, suspended in some fucked-up limbo created by my arrested orgasm.
But then it’s on, and he’s lining himself up with me and, miracle of miracles, pushing inside me with the patience of a man who has been taken to the brink of sanity.
As he does, I appreciate how insanely depraved and diabolically perfect this position is. I’m prone, at exactly the right height, and spread so fucking open for him that he couldn’t have designed his access any better.
The man is a master architect of sex… and this time, I have a front-row seat to his expertise.
He’s halfway in when he lets go of his dick and grips my hips.
The stirrups don’t give me much to work with, but they don’t need to.
He’s got this. He snags his full lower lip with his teeth as he pushes in, his eyes fixed on the pornographic sight of his dick entering my body.
For someone who seems like a cold jackass when he’s out in the world, his face is super expressive when he’s fucking, and once again, I marvel that this private show is for me and me alone.
He bottoms out, and we both let out groans at how amazing it feels.
Sure, the dildo was a great toy, but his dick is the real deal, and the fullness I feel like this is right on the brink of what’s bearable.
Tearing his gaze away from where we join, he glances up at me.
“Touch your tits for me. I want to see you playing with those nipples. Want this to feel as intense as possible for you.”
Touching myself in front of guys is not something I’m super comfortable with, but he’s paying for this, so he calls the shots.
Besides, I am apparently a ho for intensity this evening.
Self-consciously, I stop white-knuckling the armrest and let my hands trail up over my stomach until they find my breasts.
I give my nipples a little pinch, and pleasure shoots through me. Oh yeah, that’s good.
“God, yes,” he groans, his voice trembling so much that I guess it’s costing him a lot to stay still inside of me. “I love that. And let’s try this.”
This is the great Sinclair Voss spitting on his thumb and rolling it over my clit. I let out some loud, shaky wail, but I can’t help it. The size of his dick has everything down there stretched out so fully. My pussy is a taut canvas for this man’s art.