by Kitty Wilder
His hands moved roughly over her breasts and he whispered low, “How long can you wait, sweetheart?”
Her body stiffened and bore down into his thrusts. She already felt the warm gushes spilling from her and knew the orgasm would not be far behind. “I-I can’t!” she whined.
She saw in the cool light of the moon his thin lips curve up in a pleased grin, but his thrusting halted suddenly and without mercy.
Lucy wanted to scream. It was too late to stop the wave of pleasure that swelled in her. Her body obeyed its own laws and she cried out as her thighs quaked and tried to press together despite his body firmly planted between each knee. He was an immovable mountain of judgment and did not bend beneath her groans and clawing. He stood fast, watching her orgasm die out in a splendid show of agony.
He bent down next to her cheek and brushed the side of her face with his knuckles. “What was tonight’s rule, dear?”
Her toes were still curled and her fingers still digging into his upper arms. Her pussy clenched spastically for his cock, aching to begin again and reach the climax her body so desperately craved. She groaned pathetically, reason escaping her as she was lost to this foreign, sweet anguish. Her hips arched up to him in a silent plea.
“The rule, dear.” He grasped her jaw and turned her head to face him fully, his face bent low out of reach of the windows and masked in shadow once more, but for the tiny glint of light reflected in his eyes like that of a feline in the dark.
Still breathing heavily and her body still vibrating with want, she looked into the otherworldly eyes staring back at her, his weight full and pressing her down into the couch. “I...” she trailed off with a hum as she felt him unfold her arms to rest above her head the way she had held them their first night together. “To wait for you.”
“Yes.” His cool lips touched her cheek and then trailed down her jaw to her ear to suck and nibble on its delicate lobe. “Wrists up as we did before. You remember?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, don’t forget, you’re not to come until I give my permission, otherwise there will be consequences this time. Punishment. Do you understand?”
A foreboding tingle slithered up her spine as she thought of how easily he could toss her around like nothing more than a ragdoll. “Yes, sir,” she answered meekly.
He gingerly set her leg over the back of the couch and held the other open with his palm against her thigh and then settled his mouth against her pussy once more.
He groped a handful of her fleshy thigh and licked up her lips hungrily. She felt his hand leave her leg and two of his fingers slide into her and curl up into her walls while he suckled her clit. She grasped the armrest above her, fighting every natural impulse in her body to curl up into his kiss. She gasped when she felt his teeth bite one of her lips and then heard his low, smoky voice rumble against her, “Beautiful, delicate flower, I’m going to finger you until you wilt.”
Lucy’s moans heightened to cries and strange high-pitched whines she had never heard come out of herself before. His precision was unmatched, a man well practiced in his craft beyond the scope of any mortal. His fingers beckoned her closer and closer and his tongue returned to work the swollen bud of her clit. Whatever muscle it took to hold back an orgasm, Lucy had never once flexed it. Sex had always been a race, an unspoken countdown as soon as Ben entered her. The name of the game had always been to hurry up and get hers before he got his and slowly lost interest. She was shocked to find herself failing so miserably under this new game.
“John, I,” she trailed off into a whimper. “John, I can’t. Please. Please, let me come.”
He moaned against her clit, clearly enjoying her begging, and she whimpered louder.
“This,” she gasped and tried to wiggle away from his molten kisses. “This isn’t fair. How am I supposed to resist something you’ve clearly mastered over the–”
“Come for me,” he commanded against her suddenly. “Be a good girl and come now.”
Her eyes closed and she let go and lost herself in his tongue, in the rhythm of his fingers inside her, in the ticklish prickling of his short beard against her, and the sounds of his own moans vibrating through her. She cried out with a throaty groan and clung to the armrest as if her life depended on it. Swears and curses and deities she didn’t even believe in spilled from her lips and she felt the electrical pulses course through her and light up every nerve ending in her body.
He didn’t halt his vigorous pace until he was sure he had drawn out every last shiver and groan from her before he pulled his mouth and fingers away. “Good girl,” he uttered hoarsely.
She let out a contented sigh and relaxed back into the cushions, her hands still held above her head. He did not wait for her to catch her breath before climbing back on top of her and sliding himself inside. Still sensitive and pulsating, she whimpered as she felt him stretch her back open. He placed her legs on either side of his shoulders and then grasped the couch’s arm and plunged into her roughly. He moaned loudly as he devastated her, forcing her deep into the cushions with his rough fucking. She felt her body slide up until her head was pressed against the wall of the armrest and her knees bent close to her chest. She felt smothered and utterly trapped beneath him and she groaned in euphoric delight.
She could hear his heavy panting, feel his breath against her. She heard his every moan and groan and reveled in his great pleasure in her. His sounds increased in volume steadily and his rough plunges stayed inside her and slowed, but did not ease up their violence. She felt the tension in his body and the way his muscles flexed and held their place like a marble statue hovering over her. The final sound that left him was low and held a note similar to pain, as if she was stealing his very soul out of him – assuming he still possessed one to steal. She felt his release into her, moaned along with him and clenched her walls around him to milk out every last drop. He shivered from it and fell forward, his forehead coming down to rest on hers, and he sighed once more, “Good girl,” remaining a long moment, keeping their bodies merged as she gradually caught her breath and his slowly faded away back to silence.
He slipped out of her and let her legs fall to drape off the edge of the couch and then slipped his fingers under her hands and brought them down with a light kiss on her fingers and another gently placed on her forehead.
She heard a click and then warm white light blasted through the room and her eyes squinted closed in shock. After a brief moment of adjustment, she opened them and finally, under the artificial light of the lamp on the end table beside him, she saw the specter that had just conquered her. A vampire. She still couldn’t believe he’s a vampire. Or maybe she could. What normal man could do these things?
The lines in his face were relaxed and soft. He rested against the couch’s back, still mostly turned towards her, naked and his lap still glistening with the sticky dew of her own release. One of her legs hung off the side with her black painted toes in the soft rug beneath them while her other stretched over his lap. His arm settled across the top of the couch and his other settled on her leg to run his palm and nails over her sensitive inner thigh. His luminescent gaze watched her and she watched him in their strange and comfortable silence.
She shifted and pulled her hair out from under her to cascade off the couch and he continued to touch her and watch her. Her eyes began to feel heavy, and she swore she was only going to rest them for a moment, but then slowly everything, even his tender smile watching over her, faded away.
Chapter 11
Wrapped in a warm cocoon of the soft cotton of a throw blanket, Lucy woke curled up on her side, still resting on John’s old couch. She stretched and smiled as images of the sordid acts they had performed on these very cushions flooded back to her. He was no longer seated there with her though and she rose up on one elbow to search the room. The lamp’s light had been replaced by the dim warmth of a very old candelabrum. Its heavy metal curled and twisted proudly upright like the branches of a mighty
tree atop the coffee table she had just hours ago decorated instead.
“You’re awake,” commented a deep voice that was beginning to grow as familiar to her as her own. John appeared across the room from the French doors which led to his study. He was clean and redressed in a new crisp set of slacks and a button up shirt and tie. He closed the distance between them in a few confident strides and then was at her side by the couch. “How are you feeling? Let me take a look at you.”
She was confused, answering, “I feel fine.” But as he tugged the blanket away from her naked body she was shocked to see the first purple of bruises on each of her knees. He carefully touched her and assessed the wear on her body from the game they had played with the keen eye of someone familiar with medical care, and to her surprise, bent down to lay a gentle kiss on each leg. “You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” he stated gently.
As she pushed up off of her elbows to sit up, she felt the ache in her neck and shoulders and tried to roll the stiffness out of her wrists. “I already am a little.”
“It’ll be worse in the morning.” He slipped her hand into his and helped her swing her legs over the side of the couch, then took a seat beside her. His voice changed, the tender concern switching to something more authoritative, like when he commanded her during one of their games. “You’re going to take care of yourself, do you understand?”
She felt the edges of her lips tugging into a smile at his serious concern. “Yes, sir,” she answered obediently.
He nodded. “Tomorrow, I want you to take a warm bath to soak your muscles. If a particular area is hurting worse than the others, I want you to alternate ice and heat on it. As for your knees, you’re going to stick with ice and leave it on for fifteen minutes at a time. Above all, I want you to rest.” He paused and his eyes wandered down her exposed body and slowly he drew closer, as if drawn in by a strange new gravity he could not fight. “You were exquisite tonight,” he breathed softly and touched his hand to her cheek.
Her eyes dropped modestly and she smiled beneath his high praise.
“What did you think of tonight?” he asked gently now.
Her smile widened and though her body ached in protest, she was filled with an electric excitement. “I liked it,” she answered just above a whisper.
She watched his own smile break across his stern thin lips. “You’re an absolute natural. I knew you would be.”
“What do you mean you knew?”
He shrugged and tickled his fingers down the length of her long black hair until they slowly grazed over the pink nipple peeking through its soft curtain. “I could see it in you. I could feel your... need.”
She looked up at him in shocked awe of his perceptiveness.
More. He saw the more before I even knew it.
She sucked in a breath as his fingers left a firm pinch on her nipple and tugged her to him. His mouth slowly came down onto hers and took his time tasting each of her soft lips and then the warm roughness of her tongue in the patient, molten way only John Wright could kiss a girl. She sighed and a little moan escaped her as she surrendered beneath his mouth. One of his arms slid behind her and the other wrapped around her bare waist to cradle her to him. A fresh wave of lust overtook her and she grabbed onto his shoulders and swung her leg across him so she sat straddling his lap, whatever pain left in her body dulled by desire.
He smirked against her lips and ran his open palms along her curves.
She moaned and pulled him closer by the tie and ground her hips down into him until she felt that familiar stiff lump rising beneath her.
“The sun is slowly creeping to the horizon, sweetheart. Our night is almost ended.”
“But it’s not yet,” she groaned and began unfastening the buttons of his shirt.
He chuckled and engulfed her hands in his. “We will have more nights.”
She bit her lip and huffed in frustration. “Please,” she begged softly. “I know you want it too. I can feel how hard you are.”
“A naked, very beautiful woman is wiggling about in my lap,” he grinned. “Of course I’m hard. I’d have you again if we had the time.” He kissed her once more before rising up off the couch and gingerly setting her down on her feet. “Let me get your clothes for you.”
He moved around the table to where he had carefully folded her clothes and draped them over his chair. He stretched out an arm and signaled for her to follow him. He plucked her bra off the top of the pile and held it out for her to slip her arms through and then scooped her breasts up in each lacy cup before spinning her around so he could push her hair over her shoulder and fasten the hooks. Next, he held out her panties and bent down to guide each foot through and helped her tug them up with a final firm squeeze to her ass once they were in place. He sat her down onto the chair and then knelt down in front of her once more to slip her stockings up over each bruised knee and around the softness of her thighs. Once her undergarments were in place, he helped her back up to her feet and guided her head and arms into her black dress, then held her hand as she stepped into each of her heeled booties and made sure the laces were tied tightly.
“There. Like new,” he smiled.
“Thank you.”
“I need to stop keeping you out so late,” he commented as he tugged her coat off his chair.
“I’d prefer it if you continued.” She smiled as she slipped her arms into the sleeves and felt him shimmy the coat up over her shoulders.
He chuckled. “I’ll keep it in mind.” He quickly fastened each button and straightened her lapels.
She pulled her keys from her pocket and reluctantly followed him to the door. Before he reached his hand to the doorknob, it instead found her waist again and he tugged her to him for one last kiss.
Breathless and cheeks flushed, she let him guide her into the hallway.
“Do you remember the instructions I gave you?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.”
She turned for the stairwell, but threw a quick flirtatious grin over her shoulder, and said, “See you in class, Professor.”
Chapter 12
She sat at her usual seat now, in the front row of Intro to Philosophy where months ago, at the beginning of this strange semester, Lucy had once dreaded being so visible and unhidden. She was attentive in her note taking of Professor Wright’s lecture, and also of making sure her legs were resting open just enough he could catch a clear view of the black lace of her thong under her skirt. She caught his eyes drifting when there was a natural pause down to her now almost healed bruised knees spread for him, to her clear blue eyes following him, and sometimes to her glossy crimson lips when he caught her grinning his way knowingly. She had never felt so seen, and how curious it was she had been so frightened of it for so long. She no longer wanted to melt into the crowd or hide away in the back of a room. She wanted to be right here under John’s gaze, seen and vulnerable, all her secrets open to him, just the way she had felt when she had been naked and spread open on his bed touching herself for him.
Lucy heard her phone hum somewhere in the recesses of her purse. She ignored it initially, but then it hummed a couple more times. Wanting to make sure she wasn’t missing something important, she leaned out of her chair to dig around until she found it, the screen lit up with notifications of missed texts from Ben.
Is there something u want 2 tell me about?
I found ur fucking box of goodies under the bed.
Lucy felt her heart stop. He had found her secret wand. As she read several other texts of him tearing into her, for keeping a secret from him, for lying, for cheating on him with a stick of glass, dread filled her heart more and more. There was a dark humor, though, in the fact she hadn’t touched the toy in a while now, not with the even darker secret she had keeping her occupied late at night.
She did her best to apologize, but it was obvious he was in an angry frenzy. There was a part of her that understood though, and almost empathized. He loved her. For
whatever faults there were in their relationship, she did not doubt his love. Something in her had been woken now though, something that would not be stuffed away back in that beat-up photo box with her once-secret toy. She felt tears press at the backs of her eyes as she realized his greatest fear for their relationship had come true, the thing she had denied away and reassured him over for years now: he was no longer enough.
As she apologized and owned up to the lie she had been holding onto for so long, as his flurry of texts slowed and he seemed to calm down at least marginally, though his anger was still clear, she could feel the end looming over her. She could feel it in her heart, but didn’t dare think it. She sighed the weight off her chest as she heard Professor Wright’s voice return to the foreground and realized she had missed a huge portion of his lecture. He was wrapping up now and the room was filled with the hushed stirring of people packing their things away and getting ready to leave.
She looked up and saw his piercing gaze settled on her and as the rest of her peers rose to exit, he commanded over their growing noise, “Miss Beckett, I’d like to have a word with you. Don’t go anywhere.” She felt some curious eyes land on her from the strangers moving past her seat, but none were as unsettling as the molten gray ones at the front of the class. She felt her phone buzz again and glimpsed the message lighting up the inside of her purse, Ben again.
Ben: Don’t stay late 2 study 2nite. We need 2 talk about this.
Lucy: Be home soon. Class almost over.
The last of her classmates filed out and she watched John kick the stopper out from under the door so it closed with a loud click, sealing them off from the rest of the world, then returned to the front of the room.