by May, Linnea
“That’s all that matters anyway,” I say. “Take another sip and then put the glass down.”
I’m speaking these commands to test her, to see how she reacts to being ordered around. So far, it’s still hard to know whether it’s mere insecurity or a desire to please that causes her to follow my orders without questioning.
It’s her face that tells me there might be more behind her compliance. She winks at me, before she takes another sip, a bigger one this time, and then puts the glass down on the coffee table next to mine. She looks at me with expectation, her green eyes posing a question that cannot pass her lips. “Did I do good?”
I nod. “Good girl.”
It’s that little flicker in her eyes that tells me she’s into this, and a lot more. The power is all mine now, she’s willingly handed it over to me, and the rush I feel makes it hard not to execute it to the limit.
I need her closer to me. I need to touch her and control her, not only with my words. When I place my hand on her thigh, she flinches ever so slightly, but doesn’t shy away. Her breast heaves when I move my hand toward her center, slowly traveling across her thigh, surpassing the seams of her blouse until I reach her lap. I’m barely touching her, but her breathing accelerated as if we were already far beyond this point of first convergence.
“You like being a good girl for me, don’t you?” I ask her, trying to catch her eyes with mine, but she’s evading me.
“Look at me,” I command.
She sighs, but obeys immediately. There’s one thing I’ve learned about her already. Eye contact is not her thing. It’s tough for her, and knowing this about Elodie gives me something to work with.
“Sit on my lap,” I tell her, and her eyelashes flutter like excited butterflies.
She gets up from her seat, just about to follow my command and straddle me, when I have another idea.
“Actually,” I say, stopping her by raising my hand. “Let me take those pants off of you first.”
Chapter XVIII
Elodie
He seats back on the sofa, placing his arms on the backrest and looking up at me with confident anticipation. He has no doubt that I will do what he just told me to do, that I will take my pants off in front of him just like that.
Turns out, he’s right.
I hesitate only for a moment before my hands start unbuttoning my pants as if they were acting on their own, while I kick off my shoes at the same time. My eyes follow their movement, but as soon as I lower them, he tells me to lift them back up and look at him.
“Don’t look away,” he insists. “Take your pants off and look at me the entire time you’re doing it.”
This is easier said than done, not only because I find it hard to keep my balance, but also because he has this weird way of piercing me down when he’s looking at me. It’s intimidating, and oddly sexy.
I step out of my pants and make sure to get rid of my socks as well, even though he never specified for me to do that. Luckily, I’m not wearing the worst underwear in my closet, but I’m sure he’s seen way better than the simple black thong that I chose today. This is not my date set of underwear; the bra doesn’t even match. Then again, I didn’t expect to be on display to anyone like this today.
In any case, he looks pleased. While I sigh in relief when he breaks eye contact, it’s quickly replaced by insecurity when his eyes travel along my partly naked body, taking in the sight of my legs and my center. His eyebrows furl when I move my hands to the middle in an attempt to shield myself from his intrusive eyes.
“Good girl,” he says. “Now, come.”
He beckons me to sit down on his lap like he asked me to before. I stagger toward him, carefully straddling him while placing my hands on the backrest of the love seat sofa. I’m awkwardly sitting on his thighs, but he won’t have it and instantly grabs my butt to pull me closer, forcing my throbbing center right on top of his crotch. I gasp in surprise and pleasure.
He’s hard already. I can feel his steel rod pushing against my entrance, teasing me through way too many layers of fabric.
“That’s better,” he says, pulling me in for a kiss. He leaves one hand on my behind, groping me while his other hand takes control of my head by grabbing a fistful of hair and pushing me in even closer, while his tongue invades my mouth.
I moan and let it happen. His touch is so gentle, yet so demanding at the same time. No man has ever touched me like this, so perfectly balanced. I’m breathless during our kiss, giving into his domineering demeanor. It doesn’t take long for me to follow up with my own signal of need, and I start grinding on his lap, deliberately teasing his hardness. My heart jumps when I can feel him getting even harder beneath me.
But just as I intend to lift my hands from the backrest to touch him, he stops me again by pushing my arms back down before his right hand is back on the side of my waist, slowly tracing along the hem of my thong.
“Are you wet for me?” he asks, breaking our kiss while his brown eyes stare into me.
I blush at the question, biting my lower lip instead of giving him a reply.
“Shall I find out myself?” he adds, and before I’m capable of coming up with any kind of reply, he skillfully moves my thong aside and dips his fingertips between my hot lips.
I inhale audibly, filled with arousal and shame as his finger slides along my slick entrance. He portrays a winner’s smile and nods.
“You’re dripping,” he states the obvious. “And we haven’t even started yet.”
My face is smoldering hot, and I’m sure he can see the fiery color of shame written all over me. I don’t understand this. He’s right, we’ve only been kissing. But with him, it’s not just the physical acts that feed my excitement. It’s the way he looks at me, the way he talks to me, the way he orders me around.
“Let me make this easier for you,” he says, and before I can ask what he means by that, he adds another finger to have his way between my legs. He caresses my wetness, while making sure that I don’t break eye contact by holding my head in place with his other hand. I want nothing more than to look away, avert my eyes, close them, hide away the shame that comes with this new kind of arousal.
What is he doing to me?
“I want you to come,” he hisses an answer to my unspoken question.
I shake my head. “No, not y –”
“Yes,” he interrupts. “You need a release. Now.”
I don’t want this to end so soon, but he’s not giving me a choice. I’m already so close to coming that I don’t doubt his imminent success, but I still try to fight it.
Of course, he notices and intensifies pressure on my sensitive spot. I yelp with pleasure when he starts to draw circles around my swollen clit while fingering me simultaneously.
“Please, n –“
“Yes!” he interrupts, adding another finger and increasing the pressure on my swollen and sensitive nub. I find myself grinding on his hand, desperate for release and stubborn not to follow his wish at the same time. I close my eyes, and to my surprise, he lets me do so. Screw this. I decide to surrender to his demand, throwing my head back while moving my hips in circling motions to get the best out of his talented fingers.
“Good girl,” he praises my efforts. “Come.”
Hearing his voice, saying that word in his trademark husky tone, adds to my bliss. I’ve never had that happen before. His voice seems to have almost as much of an effect on me as his hands.
My climax is imminent, approaching in shy waves that grow into a wild storm. I open my eyes when the first wave big enough to steal my breath takes over me - and am met with his triumphant smile as my muscles clench around his fingers. I groan helplessly as wave after wave jerks my body into a defenseless tremor.
He leaves his hand between my legs, waiting for me to ride all the way to the end of my orgasm, before he withdraws his fingers from inside of me.
I’ve been breaking a sweat and now that my climax is receding, the sheer bliss of it is quickly
replaced by an odd sense of confusion and remorse.
But I feel relaxed, and catch myself leaning on his shoulder, placing an intimate kiss on his neck as if we’ve been lovers for a long time.
That’s what it feels like. He’s basically a stranger to me, but nothing about him feels like it.
He lets me rest on his shoulder, finally moving his hand out of my lap and - to my horror - licking his fingers clean before he wraps his arms around me. I stiffen in his embrace, once again burning with embarrassment. Did he really just do that?
“Delicious,” he comments, as if he’s reading my mind.
I bury myself in his embrace, grateful for the fact that he doesn’t make me look at him right now. It would be too much.
“I’m not done with you,” he whispers in my ear.
“I know,” I reply. Neither am I. I want more of this. More of him.
He grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me backward enough so that we can face each other. My thong is still pulled to the side, exposing myself in the most inappropriate fashion, but I suppress the urge to correct it. I have a feeling he would not like that at all.
Kingston looks at me, handsome as ever, while I don’t even want to imagine what I must look like. My hair is undoubtedly a mess, I’m sweating, and what little makeup I put on this morning must be smeared by now.
He doesn’t seem to care one bit. He still looks at me as if I was the most beautiful woman on the planet. I don’t know how he does it, how he can hold this intense level of eye contact for so long, how he can stare at someone with this kind of intensity.
I lower my eyes, only to be met with his finger below my chin.
“Why do you always try to escape this?” he asks, gently lifting my chin up so I’m forced to look him in the eyes.
“I’m not,” I object. “It’s just… odd.”
He smiles. “I enjoy looking at you. Why is that odd?”
“Oh, come on! Me?” I exclaim. “You must’ve had so much prettier women.”
He furls his eyebrows, his eyes filled with a dark promise, and before I know it, his hands are attacking the buttons of my blouse.
“What have I told you?” he asks. His voice is stern and deep, there’s nothing playful about the way he speaks.
I look at him, biting my lower lip. I know he told me not to mention any other women while I’m with him, but I couldn’t help it. What woman doesn’t compare herself to others, especially when faced with a man like him?
He starts unbuttoning my blouse, repeating his question. “What have I told you?”
“No mentioning other women,” I whisper. My pulse speeds up with every button he unhooks.
“And what did you just do?” he asks, after he’s undone with the last button.
I look at him, narrowing my eyes. What’s happening right now?
“What do you m –”
“Didn’t you just do that?” he asks, interrupting me. He looks at me with a sinister face, while his hands trace up along my torso, below the unbuttoned blouse, tickling my exposed skin. I shudder and try to suppress a giggle.
“Didn’t you just mention other women?” he asks. “Didn’t you just do something I told you not to do?”
My eyes widen with incomprehension while his hands travel up to my shoulders, taking the blouse with him. He takes it off, letting the thin fabric slide down my arms, so that I end up sitting on his lap, wearing nothing but my underwear.
“Elodie?” he presses, still looking at me as if I’ve done something very, very bad.
Maybe I have. I didn’t follow his clearly stated rules.
And he warned me.
There’d be punishment.
Chapter XIX
Kingston
Elodie is such a good girl, so careful and shy. I almost feared she wouldn’t give me any reason to punish her when I needed one. But then she let her insecurity get the better of her and there it was.
Her type of beauty is not easy to find, and she devalues herself and me by comparing herself to the silly bimbos I can pick up at a nightclub any time. I hate when she does that, that’s why I imposed that rule - and I knew she’d break it at some point.
Elodie doesn’t say a word or make a move when I take off her blouse, but she lets out a faint sigh when I unhook her bra and set her perky breasts free. She sits exposed in front of me, straddling me with her cute little thong still pushed to the side so that I can see her naked lips.
“So, you’re not going to answer me,” I state, cupping her breasts without any disturbing fabric inhibiting my touch for the very first time.
She looks at me as if she’s trying to solve a puzzle, while leaning into my touch at the same time. I pinch her nipples, causing her to yelp in surprise and returning her focus to me instead of whatever was going on inside that pretty head.
“Come here,” I whisper, pinching her sensitive nipples and pulling her closer for a kiss.
She gasps in pain and her hands jerk up in an attempt to protect herself, but I push them aside with my arms, without letting go of her nipples. I intensify the pressure, twisting and turning her hard nubs between my fingers while our tongues intertwine, underlined with the sweet sound of her anguished moans. Her moans are a mixture of pain and arousal. Perfect.
I need to be inside her.
My hands let go of her tortured nipples and trail along her ribs, to the side, following the curve of her slim waist down to her ass. She leans into me, not only welcoming my kiss, but heating it with hungry bites. She lifts herself up and rubs her partly exposed legs on my hard cock, begging for it like a good girl.
“Take me out,” I breathe between our kisses.
She lets out a desperate sigh and reaches for my crotch, clumsily fiddling with my belt and zipper before she pulls the hindering material aside and closes her talented fingers around my erection. I’ve been waiting so long for this that the sensation of her touch is almost too much to bear. She starts stroking my length while moving her hips in a way that drives me insane.
I know myself and I know how fast things can get out of hand once I set my mind on something, which is why I’m always carrying protection with me. I reach inside the inside pocket of my suit jacket and produce a condom. All the while, my lips never leave hers. She groans when she hears the plastic ripping and moves her hand aside so that I can roll the condom over my impatient cock. I’m practiced at this, but my hands still tremble as the overwhelming need for her takes over my senses.
She wraps her hand around my length while I push her soaked panties farther to the side. We moan in unison when my tip finally teases her wet entrance. I didn’t plan for it to happen like this, but my desire for her got the better of me. She’s trying to take the lead, but I don’t let her. When I beckon her to lower herself onto my hardness, she moves her hand aside and I take it, grabbing a hold of both her hands and forcing them behind her back while pulling her down onto me. She throws her head back, her eyes closed and her mouth partly opened in that seductive manner I’ve come to adore so much.
A hearty groan escapes her delicate lips as my cock stretches her. Despite my torturous need for her, I manage to control myself enough to maintain a slow pace, watching as she enjoys every single inch gliding inside her. When I’m all the way in, I keep her pushed down on my lap for a few moments, observing her raw reactions as she moans and squirms on my lap.
“Ride me,” I tell her. “Ride that cock, Elodie.”
Her eyes flicker open and she looks at me with an expression of dazed lust. I move her hands to the front, letting them rest on my shoulders because I know this will make it easier for her. She leans forward, her face dangerously close to mine as she lifts herself up and starts riding me just like I told her to.
I don’t kiss while I fuck. For me, kissing is just a way of convincing a girl to follow me into the bedroom, but once she’s there, naked and with her legs spread in front of me, I have no further need or desire for kissing.
With Elodie, it’s differ
ent. I want to lock my lips onto hers while she’s riding my manhood, claiming her with everything I have, getting closer to her…
Instead of leaning backwards and thrusting my hips up to fuck her, I find myself leaning forward, closer to her beautiful face, drawn to that exotic expression of hers. She doesn’t look like she did while playing the piano. This is not the face of a virtuoso musician in her element, but the face of a beautiful girl losing her carefully built facade in passion.
It’s so fucking endearing.
I can feel her ecstatic breath on my face.
I can’t take this anymore. This face. She’s driving me mad. Kissing while fucking? Who the hell am I?
She’s closing her eyes, ready for me to kiss her, but just before our lips meet, I jump up from my seat, taking her with me. I grab her by the ass, my cock still planted inside her while I’m standing up, giving her a few more thrusts as if I wanted to fuck those silly thoughts away. She stares at me through wide eyes, startled by my sudden motion.
I decide that I can no longer look at this face if I want to stay true to who I am and toss her on the sofa.
“Turn around,” I hiss. “Face the window, show me that ass.”
She obeys immediately, placing her hands on the backrest of the sofa and facing the city below while hollowing her back for me. This is it, this is how she’s supposed to be fucked by me.
I don’t waste another moment before shoving myself back inside of her, causing her to yelp with pleasure. She wants to turn around and look at me, but I stop her from doing so by grabbing her hair and pinning her down with her face straight ahead. No more seductive looks. She’ll face the city while I fuck her into oblivion.
I know I won’t last long. My release is dangerously close, but I have to make sure that she’ll join me. Her tight pussy is clenching around me, hungry for my cock and taking every thrust like a good girl. But I’ve fucked enough women in my life to know that most of them need more than this to reach their climax, and this is a good moment to find out what this girl needs. I raise my hand, ready to explore Elodie’s needs.