She whimpered but managed to say, “One.”
He flicked again, harder, and she tightened her back, forced herself to relax, and muttered, “Two.”
“Good. Again.” He flicked a little lower, catching the bottom of her breast, and she sucked in a breath and whispered, “Three.”
“Nice. Last two on this side.” It was harder and she moaned, but by now her breast was acclimated to the rough touch, and it felt good, too, and when the flogger fell, she swore that it sent tingles directly to her clit. She moaned.
He smiled. “Starting to like the punishment?”
She nodded. “Dylan, it feels good now.”
“Other side. Count.”
It was the same; at first, she cringed at the sharp pain; by the time he’d finished, it felt sexy and she wanted more. She was almost panting when he put the flogger down. “Are you ready to keep your thighs spread, now?”
“Yes.” She breathed. “Yes.” She leaned back, fisting her hair, feeling sweat on her brow.
“You’re tied up for me, Fia. You’re not going to move, because I told you not to. Even if I do this.” And he put his mouth back and flicked her clit hard with his tongue. This time, perhaps because she was already warmed up from the crop and the subsequent arousal, it felt so good that she nearly screamed. This time she wanted to press her thighs together to increase the sensation, not to dull it. She clenched her buttocks again and again to prevent herself from shifting, as he continued the assault.
“Dylan,” she moaned, as he thrust his tongue deep into her pussy, then licked all the way from her anus to her clit, fluttering his tongue back and forth. “God, I’m already going to come.”
“No, you’re not.” He slapped her thigh.
“I want to.” She tossed her head from side to side.
“But you won’t. If you’re getting too worked up, I guess I’ll have to flog you away from that edge. Close your eyes.”
She shut them immediately, even though a course of terror and adrenaline rushed through her.
“Did you know that floggers can also be used on the pussy?” His voice teased her from above.
“N-No, I didn’t.” She was going to die from anticipation.
“Like this.” A slight swishing sound, and then the sting of the falls, all along her labia, made her cry out. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it was new and strange, and being so open and vulnerable made it terrifying. In a sexy way.
“You’re so open. I can flog you all over your pretty pussy and ass,” he commented, and brought the flogger down again, this time towards the back of her slit, with the falls landing on her asshole.
She puckered it up, clenched, and he laughed.
“How many?” she panted.
“I’ll let you know when. Don’t ask again.” His voice was sharp, and the flogger fell harder, this time on her clit, and it hurt.
“Ow!” She wanted to clench her legs; she knew better. “Dylan!”
“Quiet.” He snapped the flogger onto each inner thigh. “This is for your own good, Fia. You were getting too close to that orgasm. I’m just bringing you back.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“That’s so thoughtful,” she said through gritted teeth.
The flogger smacked her breast, then the other. Hard. She sucked in her breath.
More on her thighs, some light, some hard. An especially stingy one made her yelp. Now her entire focus was on that flogger, wondering where and when it was going to fall, and how hard.
When he stopped, she was still breathing hard, focused.
“Are you back in control of your clit?” he whispered into her ear. “Can you hold off that orgasm now?”
“Yes!” she snapped, turned on and angry at once, both pissed at his arrogance and incited by it.
“Good girl,” he praised her. “Next time you’re getting too close, you need to ask me to give you a cropping, understand? If I need to do it and you don’t ask, it’s going to be twice as long, and I’ll smack that clit a few times good and hard. Do you want that?”
“No!” she gasped.
“No?”
“No, I don’t! The one on my clit hurt.”
“I know. It’s a good deterrent. Let’s do one more to remind you of how it feels. Stay nice and wide. Relax your body.”
Whap. She cried out loudly, because this one stung. A lot. It was nearly impossible to keep her legs open, but she managed it.
He stroked her shoulder. “How did that feel?”
“It stings, Dylan!”
“Good. It should. Imagine five of those, nice and hard, with about a thirty second wait in between each one. Are you thinking about that? Each one harder than the last. And if you shut your legs, I redo it.”
“No, please don’t.”
“I’m clarifying the rules. Next time you’re getting too close to the brink, you’ll ask me politely to flog you back from the edge. If I need to do it and you didn’t ask, you’ll get those hard ones.”
“Yes, Sir.”
This was horrible, so why was she incredibly turned on, more than ever before in her life?
“Jesus, you’re so wet.” His voice was incredulous. “I need to taste you again.”
Then he was between her thighs, and his mouth was back on her pussy, and she cried out again and again as he teased and licked and tormented her.
Finally, she started to beg. “Please, Dylan. I need to come.” And then, remembering what he’d threatened, she forced herself to whisper, “I—can you flog me? I’m too close.” She was terribly embarrassed to say it, to ask for this thing, but she didn’t want him to flog her clit like before…and she definitely didn’t want to say red to anything today. So she did as he asked.
He lifted his head. “Fia, you’re doing so well. So obedient. I’d be happy to flog you.”
She shuddered, barely able to hold back her orgasm, and whimpered with relief when the flogger cut into her breasts, because the sting of pain was enough to pull her just back from the precipice of her cliff.
She was breathing hard when he finished, and she was sure her eyes were glazed with desire and submission.
“Fia, now I want you to suck my cock,” he ordered. “We’re going to trade places, me on the chaise, you on your knees.”
He helped her stand up, then guided her to a kneeling position. “I want you to swallow it all, when I come.”
His voice was firm, but he was checking her face, and she smiled. “Yes, Sir.” She wanted to suck him dry, to make him beg for her. She was going to do it.
“If you do a good job, I’ll fingerfuck you and let you come, too,” he offered, spreading his legs and leaning back. “Start by tonguing the tip, then suck lightly.”
She obeyed, and the first taste of him was a shock and a delight. He was hard and thick in her mouth, but his skin was smooth and warm, and he tasted a little salty from precum. As directed, she flickered her tongue around the crown, and was gratified to hear him groan and relax further back into the chaise. She sucked, learning his shape and flavor, then darted her tongue up and down, around, using her hand at the base to help squeeze and pump.
Before long, she was taking him in deeper, farther into her throat, and he grabbed her hair to guide her head, holding her to his body for a long second before letting her release for air. But she loved it, she loved all of it, and when his thighs stiffened and he called out, “I’m going to come in your mouth, Fia,” she nodded into his body and sucked harder until he shouted out and released into her throat.
With a groan, he lay back on the chaise and she collapsed into his thighs, resting her cheek on his leg, her palms on his calves. She lifted a hand to wipe her mouth and then swiped down her breast, her whole body already full of his scent, his essence. When she put her forehead back to his skin, sweaty, he made a sigh of contentment and reached to wrap his fingers lightly in her hair. “Fia. Jesus.”
She smiled into his body. “Not Jesus. Just really good at what I do.”
He laughed and she shifted, realizing her knees hurt on the hard floor. She made a little grimace as she got up and climbed onto him atop the chaise. “Make room for me,” she murmured, and he made a noise and wrapped his arms around her.
In the silence, she could hear a light humming, and then—when she put her ear to his chest—the thump of his heart. The lights were hot, streaming down, illuminating dust motes that danced slowly, a lazy Sunday waltz, going nowhere in particular.
She’d been so focused on bringing him pleasure that her own arousal had waned; it wasn’t gone, but the driving bite of frantic exultation was muted now, although pleasure still lurked there, ready to bloom.
“Ready for your turn?” His voice startled her out of her reverie, as he sat up, adjusting her in his arms to sit beside him.
“I think I’ve earned it,” she whispered, then took his hand and sucked his thumb, making eye contact.
He narrowed his eyes and then smiled. “Careful, or you’ll be back down on your knees before you even get a chance to come.”
“You’re ready to go again?”
“For you, yes.” He laughed. “But I promised you a finger fuck, didn’t I?”
“That you did,” she agreed.
“But I have a new idea. Lie down and spread your legs,” he ordered. “Keep your eyes shut for a bit. I’ll be right back.”
“Dylan?” She craned her neck to watch him walk away.
“Shh. Trust me. A few seconds. I want you to touch your tits while you wait. Don’t stop until I come back, and don’t touch anything else, either.”
She nodded, and reclined backwards, letting her thighs drift apart, fanning the desire inside her core, running images in her mind to stoke the passion. She lifted her hands and gently pinched her nipples, thinking about his fingers, his mouth, what he was planning. Fuck.
He was back with a rush of air and the crinkle of a bag. “Good girl,” he murmured, and she smiled, not minding the nickname now, even loving it.
“That’s right,” she said, keeping her eyes closed, still touching her nipples. “Soooo good.”
He touched her thigh, a soft touch, then ordered, “Legs on my shoulders.” And then he was kneeling again, moving her body until they fit together on the couch. He continued, “Because you deserve more than my fingers, princess. You deserve my tongue.”
“Yes, please,” she breathed, and a second later his mouth was on her, so softly that it felt like a butterfly. He licked, stroking her with his tongue, almost petting her, so light and delicate that she started to feel insane with the need for a rougher touch.
“Dylan…” she moaned, spreading her legs wider, and felt him pull away from her body.
“Open your mouth.” His voice was low.
“I…” She shifted her hips. “Why?”
“Just do it.” He was smiling; she could tell.
She opened her mouth, a little nervous. A second later, something cool and soft pressed into her tongue, and she flinched before she realized: It was a strawberry.
“Don’t bite, just lick it. Lick it while I move it around your lips,” he said, and brushed the fruit along her tongue, and when she chased it, he moved it to the edge of her mouth, guiding her to make small motions in the air, her tongue working the luscious berry.
“Good,” he said, some time later. “My turn. But first”—and she felt him spread her labia with one hand—“first, let’s put it in place.” He gently nestled the berry between her thighs, not quite in her pussy, but resting in the seam of her nether lips.
She moaned out at the cool object down there, and a second later, moaned again as his warm tongue joined in. “These will taste a lot better when they’re in your pussy,” he whispered, sliding his tongue down her slit, over the berry and to her clit, then back again. He pushed the fruit against her. “Feel this?” He tapped the strawberry against her clit.
“Ahhh,” she cried out, as the sensation—a rougher, stronger touch than his tongue, felt strange and good at the same time. Then he replaced it with his mouth. A few seconds later, he dangled the berry over her clit, and brushed back and forth, until she rocked her hips with the motion.
“Now taste it,” he ordered, putting the berry back to her lips. “Bite it and see what you taste like.”
She obeyed without delay, tasting her own arousal and the fresh burst of summer on her tongue. “Dylan,” she panted.
“My turn again.” He rubbed the bitten berry against her clit once more, then lapped at her body. “Delicious. Better than any cream I could buy.”
“Fuck,” she whispered. She was already at that point where she needed to come. The fire in her body was even stronger than before the blow job, and she was literally going to die if she didn’t get her orgasm soon. “Dylan, please, please…”
He stuck his tongue into her pussy, deep and swirled it, then pulled back to speak. “Tell me I’m your master, and then I’ll let you come.”
“You’re my master,” she said immediately, caught up in the moment, not caring. She’d have said anything. “Please, Dylan.”
“Okay, come,” he murmured, and started licking her clit again, even, long strokes, just the way she liked it.
“Fuck…” she breathed, pushing into him just a bit, letting the feeling crest just a little more, riding the wave to the peak, and…
She screamed out her pleasure and she came, then held her breath to enjoy it, just rubbing herself into his face with abandon, over and over.
Taking a deep breath of air, she flopped back, worn out, with a long sigh.
He kissed her inner thigh, a gesture that seemed sweet, then came up beside her again and took her into his arms. “Beautiful,” he said into her neck. “So fucking pretty when you come.”
“Mmmmm,” was all she wanted to manage, and she shut her eyes, kissing his neck off and on, mostly so she could smell him. His sweat and cologne blended together with their sex, and it was a remarkable, fascinating odor. She wanted to keep smelling it, over and over. She licked his neck and bit it, then pushed her hand into his stomach. “I like you.”
She didn’t know why she said it, but he replied immediately. “I like you too.” Then he added, “And what we just did was fucking insane.”
She nodded. “In a good way.”
“The best way.” He squeezed her arm. “You okay?”
“I’m really good.” She ran her hand down his thigh. “You?”
“Yeah, great. Fuck.”
They lay together for a few minutes, just breathing, before a thought occurred to her. “So when you said you got that flogger for me?” She traced her finger over his ripped abs. “But you didn’t even know if we’d…”
He chuckled. “Well, I hoped. It was just in case.”
“You are a very smart, prepared man,” she declared, and nestled back into his arms.
A few minutes later, he shifted. “There’s a bathroom in the back. It’s not pretty, but it’s got all the amenities. Even toilet paper. You wanna go first, or should I?”
“I’ll go first.” She hopped up, suddenly shy, looking around for her clothes. “I should get dressed.”
He leaned back and watched her, his gaze even, and gave her that sexy, dirty smile. “Don’t. You’re more beautiful than any of the other art in here. I like seeing you.”
“Oh.” She put a hand to her face, flushed. “You look good, too.” She examined him, his strong, lean form, the male perfection.
“So we can both stay naked and let the sculptures sob,” he agreed, looking very comfortable with his nudity.
“Sure, and then when they self-destruct, we can walk out into the city like this and start a trend,” she said.
“No.” His voice was strong, and he leaned forward, eyes flashing. “Nobody else gets to see you like this.” He coughed. “I mean, you know, you’d probably cause some car crashes and then I’d be held liable for insurance, so it’s just better if you keep your bod private.”
“Haha. Okay. Well, I’m going
to…” she pointed to the far wall. “Over there, right? You promise it’s a bathroom, and not some weird creepy closet?”
“Would you like me to escort you?”
“I think I can manage.”
When they’d both cleaned up and dressed after all, she held up the pint of strawberries. “You’re so dirty, and I’m never going to think about fruit the same way again.”
“Neither will I.” He leaned in and kissed her neck. “Best fucking dessert I ever had.”
“Your couch.” She bit her lip. “I think we got…love juices…on it.”
“That’s okay.”
“Well, but don’t you share this gallery? What if someone else sits there? Isn’t that kind of…weird?”
He laughed. “Nobody else sits there. This is my side of the place. And I think I’ll like knowing that your cum is still there. Maybe if I miss you later, I’ll stick my nose into the cushion and see if I can smell you.”
“Dylan!” she wailed, and hit him on the arm. “No, stop! You’re so bad.” But she was laughing.
“No, don’t worry. It’s some kind of synthetic fabric. Everything washes off, even beer and nachos. Even Red Hot Cheetos powder.”
“Oh, that’s appetizing.”
“So you can understand why I think you and strawberries make a much sweeter stain.”
“Jesus, that’s like the least romantic thing someone has said that actually turned out to be sort of…sweet. You make a much sweeter stain. Someone needs to put that on a greeting card.”
He laughed. “New business, if the matchmaking thing doesn’t work out.”
At the thought of matchmaking, she felt her stomach flip. “Speaking of that…what do you think Chelsea has planned for the big finale?”
“I don’t know,” he said, gathering up their things. “She didn’t tell me. I assume something that will get a lot of attention. Something flashy. Probably a date in another city, I’d guess, because she said to clear my schedule for travel.”
“She told me the same; to pick a woman who can and is able to travel within the United States or US territories.”
Perfect Match Page 17