I closed my eyes, tipping my forehead to my arm. “No. Don’t tease me.”
“So you were the Homecoming Queen.”
“Yes, but—“
“You lied to me. I might have to punish you a little bit, make you wait for what you want.”
“No! Please.” About this point, I was thinking I liked the other game better, the one where he gets me off with his fingers in about three minutes flat.
“I do like it when you say ‘please.’” Reaching behind me, he pulled my shoes off my feet. “When you beg me.”
I picked up my head, trying to regain a little control. “I haven’t begged you.”
“You will.” He yanked my pants and underwear to my knees, then pulled my legs forward so he could get them off altogether. The wood floor was smooth and cool beneath my ass. “Now get on your knees again and stay there.”
I followed his instructions, bringing my jittery legs beneath me, knees together.
“Wider.”
Holding my breath, I slid my knees out to the side. Cool air met my hot center, and I wondered if he could see how wet I was.
His eyes traveled down my body from my wrists to my knees, and I felt his gaze like molten wax dripping over my skin. “So beautiful. And such a good girl,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling the sleeves. “So good I’m going to ask her what she’d like first. My hands? My tongue?”
I liked the way he said she and her instead of you—it made me feel like this me was a different person, and it gave me the confidence to do and say things I otherwise wouldn’t have. I glanced down below his belt, and the bulge of his erection made my core muscles tighten. I wanted to see it. I wanted intimate parts of him bare to me, like mine were to him. “Undo your belt.”
“Look at the way she gives orders even when she’s restrained.” But he undid his belt and slipped it through the buckle. “Now what?”
“Show me.”
“Show you what?”
Oh, you bastard. “Your cock. Show me your cock.” My chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as he pulled his shirt from his pants and unbuttoned it, letting it hang open. Then he undid his pants, pushing them down just enough to free his erection. My fingers curled into frustrated fists. Should I beg him to set my hands free? I knew he wouldn’t. “Touch it for me,” I whispered.
He stroked himself slowly, from base to tip, never taking his eyes off my face. “Like this?”
I watched, barely able to keep from hyperventilating at the sight. Holy fuck, Charlie Dwyer had an enormous cock, maybe even bigger than the Naughty Rabbit, and he was touching it right in front of me. And he was so calm about it! I was bursting out of my skin. “Yes, like that.”
“You want to watch me?” He twisted his wrist as his thick, hard flesh slipped through his fingers.
I licked my lips. “Yes.”
“You’ll have to watch yourself too.”
“Huh?”
Pitching forward, he flipped over before sliding back so his head was between my knees. “Watch yourself.” His breath was hot on my inner thigh. “In the mirror.”
The mirror—I’d forgotten where we were. My head snapped up, and my eyes locked on our reflections in the glass, about fifteen feet away. “Oh my God,” I whispered as Charlie snaked his arms around my thighs and pulled my hips down over his face. “Oh my God,” I said, much louder, as his tongue stroked me from my clit to my ass. My ass. I am not even making this up—he licked me there. My leg muscles tightened and I yanked hard on the cuffs, nearly hanging from them. Jesus, I hope this barre is securely bolted. Because I think I could pull it right off the wall.
My mouth hung open in ecstasy as he switched from slow velvet sweeps of his tongue through my pussy to rapid little flicks over my clit. I looked down, gasping for breath when I saw his swollen cock above his pants, framed between the V lines of his lower abdomen. His fitted undershirt had ridden up just enough for me to see the bottom portion of his six-pack stomach, and then there was his shiny wet chin between my legs. Christ, I didn’t know where to look—everywhere my eyes alighted was something that threatened to push me over the edge. Nerve endings I didn’t even know I had were igniting inside me.
“Fuck,” I breathed as his tongue swirled and stroked.
“I thought you didn’t swear.” Charlie’s lips brushed my tingling skin.
“I don’t. Fuck,” I said again, louder this time. I hung helplessly from the barre as he pulled my pussy tighter to his face, plunging his tongue inside me. Christ, could he breathe? Forcing myself to open my eyes and watch in the mirror, I panted hard as he devoured me, until I couldn’t take anymore and my entire lower body tingled in anticipation of release—but I didn’t want it to end yet. “Charlie, slow down…slow down.”
“No. This time I want you to come fast,” he said, licking along the crease of my inner thighs. “And I want you to watch it happen.”
“But I—don’t want it to end.” I went totally still, begging my body not to give in.
“You’re going to come for me now, Erin. But go ahead, try to fight it.”
He moved one of his hands from my leg to his cock. Stroking himself as he circled his tongue over my clit, he moaned softly and I struggled mightily with self-control. Oh my God oh my God, was this even real? I watched our reflections like a movie and felt outside myself—the girl barely looked like me, her skin flushed and glowing, reddish hair tumbling down her body, on her face an expression of rapture and disbelief. And she was hanging from a ballet barre by her cuffed wrists, a gorgeous man’s face buried between her thighs. This couldn’t be me!
But it was—I felt the storm inside me, the way it raged against my self-restraint, the way it pummeled my defenses. Below me, Charlie jerked himself faster and harder, with a rhythm that matched his tongue, his hips lifting off the floor. “Oh God,” I moaned, surrendering to it.
Eyes locked on our bodies in the glass, I gave in and moved my hips, rocking over his mouth. He moaned again, and I moved faster, yanking my wrists painfully against the metal cuffs. “Yes,” I cried. “Yes, yes, yes!” My orgasm peaked, my body seizing up, paralyzed in exquisite torture as he sucked my throbbing clit. My cries echoed throughout the empty room, and I closed my eyes, dropping my head back.
Aftershocks made me twitch and tremble as he swept his tongue from front to back, unabashedly probing every slick inch of the seam between my legs. “Oh my God, Charlie.” I picked up my head and opened my eyes. “What are you doing to me?”
“I want you wet when I fuck you.”
Another shiver of excitement racked my body as I looked at his cock. “I’m wet. Fuck me now. Hard.”
Were those my words? Was that my mouth uttering them? Mia once told me that she and Lucas had amazing phone sex once she got over her fear of saying certain things out loud. At the time, I thought I’d never, ever be able to do anything like that. A nice girl just didn’t speak that way, not out loud. What if the guy was repulsed? What if it scared him to have a woman be so immodest, so unashamed? Wouldn’t he think she was slutty?
But I wasn’t scared now. And I didn’t care about being called a slut. I didn’t care about anything right now except feeling Charlie Dwyer’s cock inside me, hearing him tell me what he was going to do to me, hearing myself say the things he asked me to.
Apparently he didn’t care about anything else either, because he was kneeling in front of me rolling a condom over his dick before I could even blink. His face was shiny from his chin to his nose, and the sight of my wetness over his handsome features had me spreading my knees wider, breathing harder.
He took his cock in his hands and teased me with the tip, rubbing it over my sensitive clit. Just like Brad Pitt in the shower, but real. Real! I moaned with impatience, my hands fisting. “Please, Charlie.”
Suddenly he thrust up inside me so hard I was jerked right off the floor. He grabbed the backs of my thighs and hooked my legs around his hips. “Told you you’d beg.”
He g
ave me what I wanted, and he gave it to me hard and deep. My wrists banged around inside the cuffs, the cool sharp pain in my bones a delicious contrast to the heat buzzing through my core. “That feels—so good,” I said, barely able to speak between hot, heavy breaths.
Charlie’s eyes were locked on my face. “God, you’re beautiful. I’d forgotten how beautiful you were. Or maybe I never knew.” He slid one hand up my side and closed it over my breast, looping the other one around my waist. When he pinched my nipple hard, rolling it between his fingers, I dug my heels into his ass and arched my back. “Fuck yes, and the way you taste…” His hips moved faster, his cock driving into me with a steady, pulsing rhythm. “I like that sweetness all over my fingers, my tongue, my cock. Dripping from you.”
Soft little sounds escaping my throat, I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face in my shoulder. “You’re going to make me come again.”
“Good.”
“Come with me,” I breathed, desperate with the need to have him fall apart too. This couldn’t only be me. He felt how good it was, right?
His hands returned to my ass, jerking me onto his hard length, and I gasped at the hot twinge of pain when he hit the furthest reaches of me. “Fuck yes,” he growled, the friction between our bodies overwhelming him, the depth of his thrusts overwhelming me. My insides squeezed his driving cock, tightening to the point of pain, and for a terrifying moment I lingered at the brink of my second orgasm, unsure if I’d be able to come again without being able to use my hands, pull him closer, put the pressure where I wanted it.
But as if life wasn’t unfair enough, not only did Charlie Dwyer grow up gorgeous and built, he was also apparently a scholar of female anatomy, at least where orgasms are concerned. Right at the critical moment, he tilted my hips in such a way that the base of his cock rubbed my clit, his movements shortening to tiny little thrusts as he came, sending me over the edge. My toes pointed, my mouth fell open, and my entire body went rigid with tension before pleasure unfurled inside me, our bodies pulsing together in unison.
A moment later, I hung limply from the barre and opened my eyes. Charlie’s were still closed, his breaths still quick.
“Um…” I started. But I had no idea what to say. Would this be awkward again? At least this time it wasn’t only me who’d lost control.
Charlie opened his eyes, and a little flutter went through my belly at their deep blue warmth. An aftershock, I decided quickly. Not feelings. For heaven’s sake, we hadn’t even kissed. There were no feelings. But I’d never had sex with anyone I didn’t have feelings for, so it was no wonder my body was confused. My mind just had to keep reminding it that this wasn’t that. It would never be that, and I didn’t want it to be that. Didn’t need it to be that.
“You OK?” he asked, his voice soft. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was tenderness.
“Me? Oh, totally. Totally fine.” In contrast, my voice had a false, annoying ring to it.
“Totally fine.” He eyed me suspiciously before lowering my tank top over my bra. “OK.” He seemed so different—spoke differently, moved differently, acted differently—when he wasn’t turned on.
Then again, I did too. And the transition from one to the other was a little rough.
He unwrapped my legs from his waist and gently extracted himself from me. I sat on the floor, arms immobile over my head, as he disposed of the condom into the empty carry-out bag and bunched it up. Finally he zipped up his pants and reached into his pocket. A moment later, the cuffs were off and my wrists were free.
My arms came down slowly, as if they were floating. It was like that feeling you’d get as a kid when you did the thing where you press your arms away from your body in a doorway, and when you step away, they float up on their own. My fingers were a little numb, and I flexed them, working the blood flow back into my hands. My wrists were sore, and I imagined they would be pretty bruised up tomorrow.
I’d have to wear long sleeves to Thanksgiving dinner and have an excuse ready if my mother caught sight of them.
Because girls like me did not do what I’d just done.
Especially with boys like Charlie Dwyer.
Oh, God. Reality sank in deep. I’d had handcuffed sex in my dance studio with Charlie Dwyer, and he was still standing there looking at me.
What was I supposed to do now?
Pants.
Pants would be good here. I reached for mine as Charlie picked up the trash.
“I’ll be right back,” Charlie said, heading out of the room. I heard the back door being unlocked and figured he was disposing of everything in the dumpsters behind the building. He was gone longer than necessary, in my opinion, and I wondered if he was out there berating or congratulating himself. Was he sorry things had gotten out of control again? Jesus, I hoped not. How embarrassing if he came back in here and apologized! And then what would I say? Sorry I sat on your face like that?
A second later I heard the door open again. I fastened my bra and stood up too fast, grabbing the barre when my vision clouded. I stayed still as the fog cleared.
“Everything OK?” Charlie’s voice came from behind me.
“I already said it was.”
“I know, but you’re standing there holding onto that barre for dear life. I know I’m good, but I don’t think I’ve ever paralyzed a woman before.”
I gave him a dirty look over my shoulder. “I’m not paralyzed. I’m just dizzy. I got up too fast.”
“You shouldn’t do that.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“Listen, Erin…” He jingled his keys in his hands, and I turned to face him.
Oh no. Please don’t apologize, Charlie. I will die.
“I don’t want you to think that I just came back here tonight to, uh, fool around with you.”
“Oh, thank God.” My shoulders relaxed. “I thought you were going to say you were sorry.”
His eyes widened. “Sorry? No, I’m not sorry at all. Are you sorry?”
“No. I’m not. I mean, I don’t really get what we’re doing with each other, but…” I ran a thumbnail along the barre, scraping at some nail polish someone had gotten on it. “I’m not sorry.”
“I don’t really get it either.” He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. “There’s just something about you. And when you came on to me like that…”
I gaped at him. “Wait, you’re blaming me? After ditching your date and showing up here at eleven o’clock at night with takeout and beer?”
“Calm down, I’m not blaming anyone. I just meant that I don’t usually go for your type.”
I continued to gawk at him, finally placing a hand to my chest. “I’m not your type? Ha!”
“No, not really.”
“And what’s your type exactly?”
He shrugged. “It’s not a looks thing. You’re gorgeous, I’ve already told you that much. It’s more of a…compatibility thing.”
“Aha. I see. We’re not compatible.” I bent down and tugged on my sneakers, my face on fire. Was he breaking up with me before we even had one real date? What an asshole! “I definitely think you’re right about that. We are not compatible at all.”
“Oh good, you agree.” He sounded relieved.
“I do indeed. But I’m curious.” Straightening, I stuck my hands on my hips. “What exactly is it about me that you find so repellent?”
“I don’t find you repellent. It’s just…you know. You’re a nice girl, a relationship kind of girl. And I’m not that kind of guy.”
“I know you’re not. Because you told me that the first time you came over. And I’m pretty sure I haven’t done or said one thing since then that would lead you to believe I want a relationship with you.”
“No,” he admitted. “You haven’t.”
“Good. Because I don’t, far from it. So stop making me feel like you’re letting me down easy or something.”
“I’m not doing that at all, Erin. I’m just trying to be honest. Look, this has
happened to me before, where I sleep with a girl I’m friends with and she swears it’s cool but then she ends up getting all attached to me and I look like a big asshole when she wants more from me than I can give.”
“More than you can give? Or more than you’re willing to give?” I have no idea why I asked that. It wasn’t like I was interested.
Much.
He sighed. “More than I’m capable of giving at this point in my life.”
I stuck out my lower lip. “Poor Charlie. His magic dick makes women fall in love with him but he’s incapable of feeling.”
He looked offended. “I didn’t say I was incapable of feeling—I said I couldn’t offer more than…friendly relations every now and again. And you forgot about my magic tongue.”
My thigh muscles twitched. I’d never forget about his magic tongue, not for a thousand years. That was why I had to take a step back, get some lights on in here. “Well, either way,” I said, heading for the door. “You don’t have to worry about me getting attached. You’re not my type, either.” Flipping every switch up, I squinted at the sudden brightness.
“Oh no?” Charlie leaned back against the barre, crossing his legs at the ankle. “What type is that? I’m just curious. Wait, let me guess. Suit and tie, or maybe a lab coat. Yeah, that’s it—a doctor. He drives a shiny black Lexus, the inside of which is impeccable. No crumbs, no coffee spills, no To Go cups tossed on the floor in the back seat.”
I ignored him and picked up a hammer, going to work on the strip of oak along the back wall. I’d planned on finishing the tear-out tomorrow, but suddenly I felt like smashing and destroying something. Or everything. Charlie took my silence as confirmation he was right about my dream man, or at least as an indication that he was close enough for me to be annoyed.
Confession: He was close enough for me to be annoyed.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” He went on, delighted with himself, speaking louder over the noise I made with the hammer. “And he takes you on dates to the ballet or the Opera House, after which you have dinner at the Whitney, where he saves someone from choking with the Heimlich maneuver or maybe delivers a baby in the parking lot without getting even a speck of blood on his silk tie with the Eldredge knot.”
Floored Page 7