Ecstasy Rises (Darker Ecstasy Book 2)

by Lorraine Kathyrn

  “Yesssss,” I moaned.

  Malcolm smiled down at me, moving his fingers around inside me. I shuddered, lifting my hips against his probing hand. He pressed the heel of his hand against my clit, grinding in to it as his fingers quickly worked me in to a frenzy and I felt my pussy clench. He raised his eyebrows and pulled his fingers out, smiling as I tried to catch my breath..

  He slipped his fingers in to my mouth, and I licked and sucked them, tasting myself mixed with the salt of his skin. He quickly pulled them out of my mouth and kissed me fiercely, his lips crushing mine and tongue forcing its way in to my mouth. His hands ran up and down my sides as he devoured me with his kiss.

  “You are exquisite when you come,” he said, breaking the kiss at last. I closed my eyes, shaking my head and biting my lower lip. “You are. My hot, sexy little slut, writhing and moaning, your cunt wet and dripping.” He began making circles around my clit with his finger.

  “Oh, Sir,” I sighed, spreading my legs for him.

  “Hmmm?”

  “That feels so good,” I sighed.

  “You like that?” he asked, kissing his way down my chest. He kissed my nipples lightly before licking between them.

  “Oh….yes.” He began kissing down my abdomen, his finger still massaging around my clit, stopping to nibble at my navel a bit. He ran his tongue slowly from my belly button to the very top of my pussy. “Please….”

  “Please what?”

  “Please…use your tongue.”

  “I am,” he said, running his tongue in circles at the top of my mound.

  “Please, Sir.” I drew my breath and held it as he removed his fingers. He began to slowly caress my pussy lips with his finger tips. I glanced down at him to find him looking at me, smiling.

  “Ask for it,” he said. I could feel his breath on my sex.

  “Please eat me, Sir. Please lick my pussy,” I said, hiding my face in the crook of my arm. I could feel the heat from my cheeks. I was so embarrassed, talking that way, but it also made me so hot for him.

  “A slut has a cunt, not a pussy. Ask again,” he said. He spread my lips open and blew on my clit.

  “Oh god! Please lick my cunt,” I moaned, feeling cheap and dirty and sexy and desired. And wet. Very, very wet.

  Malcolm began probing me gently with his tongue, tasting me lightly, almost delicately. I sighed and spread my legs as far apart as I could, bringing my knees up and to the side, and my mind suddenly thought back to high school and the frog we had to dissect in biology class. Then Malcolm’s tongue fluttered against my clit and I thought of nothing but how good it felt.

  He sucked and licked at me, repeatedly bringing me to the edge of orgasm and then backing off. Teasing me, taunting me with my own pleasure until I begged him to make me come. He grunted, zeroing in on my clit with his tongue and lips, making me come. He nipped, sucked and licked at it, and I came and came – not sure if it was one long orgasm or a series of small ones – until I could no longer speak and my abdominal muscles cramped.

  He moved quickly, running his tongue back up my body to my mouth and slamming in to me. I whimpered against him, still coming down from my orgasm and over-sensitive, and pushed my hips down in to the bed, away from him.

  “No,” he said, grabbing my ass and pulling my hips back up towards him.

  “Please, Sir, it’s too much,” I sobbed. His pelvis hit my clit every time he thrust into me, sending off stabs of pleasure.

  “Hush,” he said, shifting to press himself with even more force against me. I pulled at the tie around my wrists and moaned, unable to move or protect myself. “Let go,” he whispered, moving his lips to my ear.

  “I can’t. Please. It’s too much.”

  “Relax and let it happen.”

  “Too soon.”

  “No, it’s not.” Malcolm moved his mouth to my ear, speaking low. “Just let go, close your eyes and think of nothing more than how good it feels. How my cock feels inside your cunt. How your tight, wet cunt caresses my cock as I fuck you.” He emphasized each sentence by slamming in to me. “Think of how much your cunt likes it. How much you like it. You like how I fuck you? How I tie you down and fuck you? You like being my dirty little slut, don’t you?”

  I grabbed the slack of my restraints, eyes closed, concentrating on the feeling where our bodies met and listening to him. I relaxed, the pleasure intoxicating, seductive. I planted my feet on top of his thighs and moved my hips against him. “Oh god….oh Sir…don’t stop…please Sir.”

  “Tell me what you want,” he grunted, letting go of my ass and raising himself to look at me.

  “Fuck me. Don’t stop. Fuck me. Use me.” I chanted, my breathing ragged. God – he felt so damn good. It was an entirely new experience to me. And when I realized what I was doing and saying, when I realized those moans and sighs and shrieks were coming out of my mouth, I could feel embarrassment rising in me. I couldn’t help it.

  I glanced up at Malcolm, and I could see his approval. “My good little slut,” he grunted. His eyes were fierce. There was sweat on his brow. “Tell me.”

  “Don’t stop fucking me. Please. Your cock feels so good. I’m your dirty little slut. Keep fucking me. Keep fucking your slut.” My embarrassment burned away by the look in his eyes. The more I talked, the dirtier I talked, the wetter I got and the more intense Malcolm’s fucking became. I reveled in this new sensation. This feeling of being at once powerful and powerless. I began to move my hips more quickly against him, goosebumps erupting all over at the sounds our bodies made together. Any inhibition I had was abandoned. Every identity I’d ever had was thrown to the wayside, forsaken. There was no good girl here, no feminist, no senior account executive. The volunteer, the community do-gooder was nowhere to be found. There was only Malcolm’s slut.

  It was glorious.

  “Oh god. I’m going to come. Oh Sir, it feels so good when you fuck my cunt. I’m going to come,” I cried.

  “Yes, you fucking slut. I can feel – ,” Malcolm said. And then he said nothing, his eyes closing as I felt him come inside me. And then I said nothing, I just wailed and moaned beneath him as I came, too. He thrust into me, fucking me through both our orgasms, with enough force to lift my hips off the bed and double the slack around my hands.

  He must have recovered before I did, because one moment I was shuddering beneath him and the next he was lying next to me, rubbing my clit lightly and teasing my nipples with his tongue. I could hear myself sobbing, begging him to stop, even as my hips moved and my legs fell open.

  “I want you to come for me again,” he said against my breast.

  “Please, no. I can’t.” I could feel my hair plastered to my head, and the sweat running off me. I was so sensitive, each gentle stroke of my clit made me shake.

  “Yes, you can.” He raised his head to look at me and I shook my head. He stopped playing with my clit and spread my lips apart. “Yes,” he said, raising his hand and slapping me between the legs. I had never felt anything so wildly erotic before. My body jerked and I moaned, opening my legs wider and angling my hips towards him. It felt so good, it was pleasure laced tightly with pain, each sensation wholly dependent upon the other. He slapped me again and I moaned louder, feeling my wetness splash onto my thighs.

  “Oh god, yes,” I moaned as he slapped it again. All thoughts of me being too tired and too sensitive to come again had vanished. I felt delirious. “Oh jesus that feels so good.”

  “Are you going to come for me?” he asked, spanking me between my legs again.

  “Ahhh…yes….yessss….make me come.”

  “That’s it…what a good little slut…come for me,” he whispered as he slapped me between the legs with a steady tempo. God, it felt delicious. Malcolm kept whispering to me as he spanked my pussy, dirty things, sweet filthy things, and when I came my entire body locked up, my cries trapped in my throat with my breath.

  I didn’t ‘pass out’, per se, but it took me a while to come back to full awareness.
When I did, I was on my side, under the duvet with Malcolm spooned up behind me, my wrists finally free. I had only the vaguest recollection of how I got there. He wrapped his arms around me and laced his fingers through mine. He kissed the side of my head and laid his cheek against it.

  “It’s nearly 2AM,” I said, looking at the clock on his bedside table.

  “Mmmhmmm,” he said, pulling me to him tighter.

  “I’m going to be a wreck at work.”

  “You’re not going to work.”

  “What?”

  “I spoke with Ian before we left Houston and told him we were both beat after working so hard. He said we should take the day. With pay, of course.”

  “You did that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You knew I would come home with you?”

  “I assumed you would.”

  “Oh really?”

  “I can be overconfident at times.”

  “You mean a ‘cheeky bastard’?” I teased.

  “You’ll pay for that later,” he growled in to my ear, making me giggle.

  “Big talk,” I said, yawning.

  “Later, my sexy little slut.” He yawned, and I could feel his chest expand behind me. “I am too tired to take care of it now.”

  I think I opened my mouth to retort, but I fell asleep before I could get anything out.

  It was really weird waking up in Malcolm’s house the first time. It was just past 11 AM when I finally opened my eyes, and I had that odd ‘where-am-I’ panic moment before I remembered. I rolled over to find Malcolm gone, the place where he’d lain smoothed out, which added to the overall weirdness. I considered just laying there until he came back in, but urgent messages from my bladder made me realize that was a horrible idea.

  I sat up, pulling the duvet up to my chin and casting about for a robe or towel or anything to wrap myself in. I spied a note on the bedside table grabbed it –

  Melody –

  I have gone to the store. There are fresh towels in the bath. Make yourself at home.

  M

  “No use worrying about being naked,” I mumbled, clutching the note and making my way to the bathroom – whoops, the bath I mentally reminded myself with a giggle. As I sat to pee I realized how sore my butt was, and I had to sit forward, keeping all my weight on my thighs. When I finished, I went to the mirror to have a look at my ass. It was bruised a deep purple in spots, but not too bad. It looked almost like I fell roller skating. I pressed my hand on it gingerly, thinking about how the bruises occurred and feeling a little proud and, oddly, turned on. I shook it off, heading towards the shower, whistling at the massive opulence of it. It was open in the back, no door or curtain, and seemed big enough for an NFL team to shower together.

  After a few moments fiddling with the shower controls – he had three shower heads, one above and one on either side – I stepped in, both delighted and dismayed to find he had unpacked my toiletries for me. I showered slowly, enjoying the feeling of the three sprays as muscles I didn’t realize were tense slowly relaxed. When I finally got out my fingers were starting to prune and I thought I heard Depeche Mode’s “Sweetest Perfection” as I toweled off. I quickly combed my hair and wrapped it in a towel, slowly opening the bathroom door. Yes, that was definitely DM, and I smiled at his choice. I peeked out, but Malcolm was nowhere to be seen.

  I tiptoed into his bedroom, looking around for my suitcase. He obviously took it out of the car if he got my toiletries – but he must have left it downstairs. My clothes were folded neatly on his dresser, but I spied his dress shirt hanging on the back of the bedside chair and put that on instead, breathing in deeply that good smell of man. I left the top three buttons undone and rolled up the sleeves and head downstairs as quietly as possible. “Sweetest Perfection” had given way to “Personal Jesus”, and I could hear Malcolm singing along quietly.

  I followed the sound of his voice and found him in the kitchen, slicing berries and cantaloupe in cargo shorts and a t-shirt. I watched him, unnoticed, shaking his hips in a very good parody of Dave Gahan, feeling a sudden warm affection for him that surprised me with its depth. I bit my lip to keep from giggling as he unselfconsciously used the knife in his hand as a microphone, but I was a bit too late.

  “Come dance with me, poppit,” he sang into the steel blade.

  I practically skipped over to him as he tossed the knife into the sink and took me in to his arms. He pulled the towel off my head and dropped it behind him as he danced us into a large, sunken den. He maneuvered me over to a huge plush brown sofa, making me laugh as he pushed me down on to it.

  “Wait here,” he said, dashing back out. I sat, trying to look demure by tucking my legs underneath me, but it put too much pressure on the wrong place, so I settled for sitting cross-legged, the front of Malcolm’s shirt tucked between my legs.

  He came back in carrying a tray with fruit, cheese, croissants and tea and set it on the coffee table, taking a seat on the floor to my right, his back leaning on the couch. We ate, not talking too much at first as we were both pretty hungry, listening to ‘Violator’ in companionable silence. As we slowed down and began to pick at the food, I slid my legs out carefully, lounging on the sofa, smoothing his shirt over me and propping my head in my hand.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly. “That was lovely.”

  Malcolm shifted, turning towards me. “Are you sore?” he asked quietly, brushing his fingers through my hair.

  “Not too bad.”

  “Bruised?”

  “A little,” I said with a shiver. The CD recycled, the synth hook from “The World In My Eyes” suddenly filling the room. I smiled at him and he leaned over and kissed me. I could taste strawberry on his lips.

  “What do you have on under my shirt?” he whispered.

  “It’s a secret.”

  “I don’t care for secrets,” he said, smiling.

  “Then you better find out quick.” I made to get up off the couch, but he grabbed me and pulled me back down, making me squeal with delight as he climbed on top of me and straddled my hips.

  “Oh my,” he said, unbuttoning the shirt and spreading it open. I watched his eyes roam over me. “I seem to have you at a distinct disadvantage, my dear,” he said, grabbing my wrists with one hand and twirling an imaginary moustache a la silent movie villain with the other.

  “You have an odd idea of disadvantaged,” I laughed.

  “How so?” He let go of my wrists and started kissing my neck, slowly moving down my body, flicking his tongue lightly over my skin.

  “There are few places I would rather be than naked beneath you,” I whispered. I ran my fingers through his hair, enjoying the luxury of being able to touch him.

  “I can think of one,” he said. He lay his length on top of me and kissed me deeply, sliding his hands beneath me. I rand my hands down his back and tugged at his shirt, wanting that skin-to-skin contact.

  “Where’s that?”

  “Naked on top of me?” he asked, sitting back on his heels and taking off his shirt. He undid his shorts and, rising to his knees, pushed them and his boxers down. His cock stood out, erect, pointing slightly up. I bit my lip, a silly thought almost making me giggle. “What?” he asked, pulling me up and helping me to my knees. He pushed his shirt off my shoulders and I felt it fall over my calves.

  “The music makes me feel like I’m in my 20’s.” I grabbed his cock and began stroking it softly. He slowly leaned back, watching my hand as it stayed in contact with him, until he was flat on his back. I positioned myself between his knees and slowly licked at his balls, my hand still stroking him gently. I ran my tongue up the bottom of his cock, pulling back his foreskin and lightly flicking my tongue against his frenulum.

  “Come here,” he groaned, grabbing me by my biceps and pulling me up to him. “I need to be inside you.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I whispered, lowering myself slowly onto him. I was still a little sore from being so…well used… the night before, so I moved pai
nstakingly slow, sighing as I finally sat fully upon him. I leaned forward a bit and rocked with my thighs, slowly sliding up and down on him, the pleasure quickly replacing the pain.

  “Melody,” he moaned, his hands squeezing my hips. I smiled, moving a tiny bit faster, watching him. “You feel so good and wet and hot.”

  “Oh, Sir,” I whispered, dragging my nails down his chest, scraping them over his nipples. “Say my name.” He held my face in his hands, looking at me intently. “I want to hear you say my name.”

  “Malcolm,” I whispered, reluctant to say it loudly.

  “Yes.” He pulled me to him. holding me tight against him, and began thrusting up from beneath me. “Say it.”

  “Oh, Malcolm.” I was getting close – so close – to coming already I was almost embarrassed. He just made me feel so very good. “I want to come.”

  “Yes, Melody. Yes!” His hips moved erratically, jostling me about, grinding me in to him. I felt my body tense, my toes curling beside his thighs, as I came. He came quickly after me, hips elevated, holding me fast against him, softly saying my name over and over.

  He lay back down, and I stretched out on top of him, thinking. I felt him shrink and fall most of the way out of me and I flexed, unable to stop myself, pushing him the rest of the way out.

  “Unfair.”

  I slid to his side, wedging myself between him and back of the couch, throwing my leg over his and running my fingers through his chest hair. His hand ran idly up and down my back a while, before resting on my hip.

  “Stay the weekend with me?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes,” I answered quickly.

  We spent that first weekend just kind of hanging out at his place. Getting take-out, playing Parcheesi (Parcheesi!), watching the original Godzilla. And talking. Looking back, it was a perfect way for Malcolm to show me what I was getting myself in to. What he expected of me. It was a time for me to learn. To question. And question I did. I questioned him and myself and what I felt and what was happening between us and the way my whole being responded to him. He must’ve thought he’d taken up with the daughter of ‘The Riddler’. But he didn’t seem to mind. Like when I asked if he would take me home to pick up some underwear, he refused. He told me I wasn’t allowed to wear panties when I was with him. “I want to know that when I reach under your clothes I will touch nothing but you. No knickers between me and what I want,” he said plainly.