Master Me

by Lisabet Sarai, Trina Lane, Elizabeth Coldwell, Charlotte Stein, Jane Davitt, Justine Elyot

  Torment Molly here. Tease her there. Wait for her to beg before you proceed with anything more interesting.

  But she wasn’t about to beg. Oh no. Not yet, at least. He had a long, long way to go before anything like that happened. She could take his little pointed tongue all day, trailing cool, wet stripes over her skin. And his fingers, too. They could play all they wanted over the trembling expanse of her belly or the curving rise where her breasts began. He didn’t have to rub her clit or pinch her nipples, turn her onto her front and fuck into her like a man possessed.

  Unless he really wanted to, of course. Unless he really wanted to, in a under a minute or so, before she went insane and gripped great handfuls of his hair.

  “Ready to beg, yet?”

  Instead she blurted out some breathless words.

  “Where did you learn to be so cruel?”

  He replied with his mouth open and hovering over that sensitive place, between her thigh and the swell of her sex.

  “I took a class.”

  He was as sly and bastardly as he was in his emails, but oh, in such a good, good way. Then his breath ghosted over her heated flesh, and the barest hint of his slippery tongue slid over the very outer edges of her pussy, and she couldn’t help bucking up at him.

  Of course he put a firm hand over her hip when she did so, but that was okay too. Oh, that was more than okay. He had a good, wiry strength about him, but even if he hadn’t, there was something beyond physicality holding her down. An electricity that passed between them, a locked tight feeling that came from the spread of his fingers, curling around her body. The warmth of him and the tease of his mouth and it all just led to…

  “Please. Please.”

  His smile showed teeth this time.

  “Good girl.”

  She bucked up again, for that. Unfortunately, he was now holding her firmly in place and even if he hadn’t been, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to move all that far. The heated promise of his mouth held her fast, though it wasn’t his tongue that touched her there, first.

  He brought his left hand up, instead, and just ever so lightly traced a line around the outer lips of her pussy. Almost absently, as though he didn’t really mean it or hadn’t intended it.

  But she felt it as though he had, all right. It made her gasp—just that little nothing touch.

  “Should I go on?” he said, and this time she fell to real and proper begging.

  “God yes, yes, please. Ben, please—”

  “And what should I use? My fingers, or my mouth?”

  She couldn’t think straight. Was this a quiz? And if it was, why did multiple choice suddenly seem so impossibly hard? One of the answers had to be right! Hell, both of the answers seemed really, really right. So right that she mixed them together, in her answer.

  “Fimth.”

  “I don’t think that’s a word. I tell you what, Molly—I’ll make the decision for you.”

  He used just a single finger, to slide the length of her slit. Barely probing inside at all, but even so, the sensation was incredibly intense. Tingly, like the usual sort of feeling provoked by past boyfriends who’d been down there, but brighter. Almost unbearable.

  “So wet,” he said. “I can feel it, and I’m not even really trying. Do you usually get this slippery, or is it only when someone teases you to the point of madness? Because I have to say, it seems worth it. I bet this feels amazing, right?”

  She tried to nod, and failed.

  “It’s okay. I can tell it does. You’re all flushed and squirmy and oh—oh, your clit’s so swollen and firm. Does that feel good, baby?”

  This time, everything failed her. Apart from her back, which apparently wanted to arch.

  He had such a fine, spidery sort of touch! It was almost like not being touched at all, which kept the whole thing dancing on the edge of tease. Or at least, it did so until he decided to slide two fingers suddenly and shockingly all the way in, to the hilt.

  Of course, it wasn’t anywhere near enough. But it felt like blissful relief, compared to what he’d been doing up until that point. The walls of her pussy clenched tight around the intrusion and he made a little amused sound—one that caused a deeper blush to spread over her cheeks and probably other places, too. Yet somehow, that only added to the rush of release, the feeling of some of the tension, draining away.

  Then he breathed over her clit, again, and she had to moan loud and long.

  “I’m going to take a wild guess and say that’s good,” he said. “But you know, I think I can make it much, much better.”

  She almost yelled out her delight, but stopped herself with a little squirming against the bed. At last, at last he was going to lick her, or maybe stroke her, or just something that was bound to make her come within ten seconds or so. She felt like coming right there and then, with nothing but his hot breath on her and his fingers sliding minutely back and forth.

  “Do you know where your G-spot is?”

  More quizzes? No, it couldn’t be. He couldn’t be going with more quizzes. Especially when they were about subjects she’d forgotten to study, back in twelfth grade biology. Or back in the office, last Wednesday, with that sex toy he’d given her that definitely stirred something inside her.

  If only she’d paid more attention, at the time! It had felt kind of like…

  “Here,” he said, and nothing more needed to be answered or said or explained. He just curled his fingers and rubbed at something she wasn’t sure existed, and oh. Oh. “And if I do it hard enough, and fast enough, well. I think you’ll enjoy the results.”

  He was such a card. She wanted to laugh and sob with pleasure, all at the same time. Then he lapped over her clit, just once, hot and wet, and pleasure won the day. Pleasure made her body curl and sound catch in her throat. How anyone could look at him, and know—no one would ever know. They couldn’t possibly.

  He was far, far better than anything about him suggested he would be. He kept just the very pointed tip of his tongue on her clit and circled it, unwaveringly. No getting tired, no complaints, and oh the feel of his fingers twisting and fucking into her, insistent and assured. Too good to take.

  She came in a great wave, every inch of her body jerking through it, pleasure pushing intense and thrilling through that place he’d found, and through her clit, her belly, the tips of her tits. It went on for far too long and no matter how in charge he was, she had to push him away. She had to curl up into a little ball and work her way through it, then out the other end.

  Somewhere far away he was laughing, but it sounded warm and joyous and it went well, with his arms suddenly around her.

  “That was good, huh?” he said, and there was something about the way he said it—something just ever so slightly insecure—that made all of his forcefulness and his mastery just a little bit lovelier. He was lovely. He didn’t give her any qualms about turning suddenly to throw her arms around him.

  “Yeah,” he said. “That was good.”

  He made no move, immediately. She could feel his erection pressing against her lower belly, and everywhere her hands roamed, he felt feverishly hot, but he didn’t seem to be in any rush.

  So she asked him.

  “How did you know I was like this?”

  It had played on her mind for so long, she could have sworn it was a bigger question than it sounded, once it was out. Once it was out it seemed like nothing at all, as though more words needed to be added, further explanations needed to be given.

  But of course, he didn’t need anything. He had a lock of her dark hair curled around one of his fingers, and was examining it, until she spoke. Then those clear eyes locked on hers, and her entire body went liquid.

  “I wasn’t sure,” he said, after a moment. “I thought you seemed like…you wanted something more. Like me, you just seemed to want something more.”

  And that was true enough. However, he still had something more to say on the matter. Something great.

  “I would have
given you anything you wanted, but this…this was what you seemed to respond to best. And then, when you asked about James Walsh…I thought perhaps…”

  “It’s you I want. The person who wrote those emails—that’s who I want. I don’t care what you look like, though you should know, you’re pretty damned gorgeous, and I don’t care what job you do or how you dress or any of it. I just. Want. You.”

  She watched his barely-there smile grow, throughout her little speech. It hovered over his lips, straining for full-blown happiness.

  “Now give it to me, okay? I’ve been waiting for you to give it to me for what seems like weeks. And don’t hold back—I don’t need you to hold back. Just be you.”

  His cool gaze trailed over every inch of her face, drawing it out, she knew, then finally he pushed her onto her back. Slowly, as though he wasn’t really in any rush. Of course she knew he was, but the pretence was good. The pretence was golden.

  “I’m going to fuck you, now,” he said as though it was his idea. The awesome thing was, it felt like his idea. The notion had just popped into his head, and she was going to have to comply whether she liked it or not.

  She could have squeezed him to her, he was so unbelievably awesome.

  “Turn over,” he said, and that was awesome, too. She did it with squiggly fizzing things going off, low down in her stomach. Her legs had mysteriously turned to rubber, and the rubber needed him to help it complete the action.

  But that was okay, because he knew that. She didn’t even have to ask him for help. He just arranged her on the bed like a doll, and ran soothing hands all over her back, and murmured in her ear about how much he couldn’t wait to be inside her.

  Then louder and far more commanding, “Keep your face in the pillow and your legs spread.”

  An—an—nd more fizzing. More tingles.

  She heard him get off the bed, but didn’t turn and look. Somehow the noises made the whole thing filthier—him rifling through something, then the distinct sound of a condom wrapper being split. That rubbery, slippery sort of snapping, while she waited and waited and shivered with the waiting.

  “The anticipation is good, right?” he said, but that amused note to his voice was better. He just knew, every single time.

  He climbed back onto the bed slow, slow. The hint of one hand, high up on her thigh. Another at her shoulder, briefly. Then nothing.

  Of course, she knew what was coming.

  “You have to beg me, Molly.”

  His voice had gone as flat as it probably went, and she felt her sex swell to hear it. The earlier orgasm had done almost nothing, it seemed, to take the edge off, and now here she was, lost in it all again.

  “Really, I get no enjoyment out of this.”

  She tried to hold still. Bit her lip, to help that stillness on. She’d asked how he’d known already, and he’d answered, but still it kept playing through her mind. How did he know her so well? How did he understand all of this so well, before she’d even had a chance to comprehend it herself? How did he know that such a simple sentence, loaded with some sort of cool indifference, could affect her so powerfully?

  His tone even said that he knew, secretly. He knew that the pretence at indifference would make her squirm.

  “Fuck me, oh God, fuck me,” she said, not quietly, either. Her voice sounded shrill and desperate, even to her ears.

  “What? I didn’t hear you. Say it again. Be more graphic, just so that it’s completely clear.”

  She could almost see him cupping a hand to his ear, the bastard.

  “Fuck me, Ben. Fuck my pussy.”

  “You’re going to have to do better than that, for me to even consider it.”

  She stuttered over her next attempt. It had previously felt as if she was anything but a prude, but somehow he brought out the best in her. Or was it the worst?

  “Put your cock in my pussy. Do me hard, until I scream.”

  “I would…I really would…but pussy’s such a…tame word, wouldn’t you say? Try something else, and I might consider it.”

  “God! You’re maddening!”

  He did what could only be described as a snigger. It sounded both hugely frustrating, and completely glorious.

  “Yeah, but that’s what you like about me, isn’t it? Now say the right words.”

  “Fuck my cunt with your big, hard cock. Okay? Just do it. I’m wet, and ready, and I want you to fuck my cunt.”

  His hands smoothed over the backs of her thighs, for that.

  “Ve—er—ry good, Molly. Very nice. Can you feel how wet you are, yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  The word came out small.

  “Without touching yourself? Has it all run down into the crack of your ass?”

  “Yes.”

  Smaller still.

  “And you’re just swollen and aching, am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  So tiny this time, so minute, it was as if she hadn’t spoken at all. Maybe she didn’t exist in the same way he didn’t, just all of her burned away and floating on the wind, light as a feather. Perfect.

  She felt his body spread over hers.

  “I’m going to make love to you now, Molly,” he said.

  She nodded her head. There weren’t any words she wanted to get out. Her face felt wet.

  “You don’t have to worry about anything, okay? Don’t worry.”

  He brushed away her hair, and kissed the nape of her neck. It felt like a relief. Everything felt like a relief—his cock sliding all the way into her, most of all. He filled her up solidly, giving her something to concentrate on and anchor herself to.

  But God, he went slow. Of course she’d expected him to. But even so, she found it hard to bear, at first. He rocked in, then almost all of the way out, teasing her with just the tip before plunging back in again. In fact, every stroke in felt like something plunging, something fierce and fast and almost enough, but then he’d stop and wait and draw back out so agonisingly slow.

  Still, he moaned before she did. In fact, he moaned a lot more than she would have imagined. She saw the conflict between his restraint and his desire, clearly. One obviously told him to hammer into her, while the other made him take his time, made him stretch the whole thing out like a length of taffy.

  Both were represented in the grip he had on her upper arms. She had them spread out on either side of her, flat to the bed—almost like a diamond-shaped frame for her head. And he just pressed each individual fingertip into her flesh, and pushed her down, down, into the mattress.

  No doubt she’d have bruises, tomorrow. He asked if she wanted him to go faster, harder, but all she could think was, squeeze tighter. Make some bracelets around my upper arms. Make me feel it, make me feel it—oh.

  He did. Despite his probable best intentions, his thrusts grew jerky and erratic. He picked up the pace whether he wanted to or not, and that sensation he’d provoked not long ago sparked again. She said his name without meaning to, and that made him say her name, and finally one of his hands went to her hip to bring her in tighter, and closer.

  “Oh yeah that’s good,” he panted, and she couldn’t disagree.

  It felt so good that when he demanded she touch herself, she barely thought twice about it. She just squirmed and shoved one hand beneath her body, searching out her clit.

  She came the moment her finger pressed over that little bud. Her body tried to go rigid, but he was pulling her up into every rough thrust—it made it hard. It made it hard to do anything but go with the ebbing, tingling pleasure, and gasp that she was coming.

  Then he groaned that he was too, and that made everything even sweeter. He emptied into her barely a second after she’d climaxed, jerking against her body and pouring out a series of unintelligible noises. Though in amongst them, she definitely heard him say…

  “I knew, God, I knew you’d be this good.”

  And that was all right. Yeah, that was pretty sweet.

  * * * *

  It was on
the tip of her tongue to ask, but every time she went to say it, it just seemed so ordinary and dull and provincial. And though he was much less mysterious than he had been, in many ways he was still cool. And still kind of mysterious.

  She glanced across at him, but that wasn’t a good idea. She hadn’t expected him to be just looking at her. Though why that seemed so oddly thrilling when they were both laying naked on her bed, like little strange bookends, she had no idea.

  “So. What do we do now?” he asked.

  That was a good opener. She was grateful to him, for making it. But even so, she couldn’t quite say the words. She couldn’t quite say, “what are we, now? Are we lovers? Are we in some kind of relationship? Are you still going to email me, every day?”

  If he answered no to any of them, there would definitely be some disappointment.

  “I’m not sure. You fancy a pizza?”

  That big version of his smile spread over his face. He looked pretty young, anyway, but even younger when he smiled like that. Hell, he was probably younger than she was. Twenty-eight, she judged him at. Maybe one year between them.

  “I could go for pizza.”

  She swallowed. “And then what?”

  It was as close as she was going to get to the big questions. For now, at least. Though really, she should have known that she didn’t have to hold back. She should have known him, ever and always.

  “Then we be together. Because I say so—and apparently, I’m a very masterful sort of person. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  She would. Oh God, she absolutely would.

  About the Author

  Charlotte Stein has been published in numerous erotic and erotic romance anthologies, and has written her own longer length works for both Black Lace books and Total-E-Bound. She has been writing for more than half her life, but only recently worked up the courage to submit something to actual publishers. Thankfully, the story ended well.