by Liz Crowe
It’s doubling back on itself, his dick still ripping into me, and he calls out, “Stop! Don’t you dare come yet. Your orgasm belongs to me. You won’t come until I tell you to.” I don’t know what to do now, so I drag my hand back up and pinch and pull my nipple. “Good girl. You’re a good slut. You know how to keep yourself horny for me. You like this fucking, girl? Hard enough for you?”
“Harder, Sir,” I pant out. “I want it harder and faster, Sir. Fuck me hard and fast, Sir.”
“Fingers back to your clit, girl. Work yourself fast and hard.”
“Yes, Sir.” I go back to stimulating myself, and it takes almost no time for my body to respond.
And just when I think I’m going to tip over the edge, he stops me again with, “Hand to your nipple, whore. No coming for you yet. Understand?”
“Yes, Master.” I’m so needy that I feel like I’ll explode and I groan out, “Oh my god. I need to come.” The orgasm is right on the surface, and yet I can’t have it. God, I want it so bad.
“Not until I tell you to. Work that nip. Stay hungry for it. Like this cock, girl? Want more?”
“Oh god, yes, Sir. More, please, more,” I plead. I feel his finger dip into my juices and, to my surprise, he rims my asshole with it. I just moan loudly and beg silently for him to force his finger into me, but he doesn’t, just rims me and fucks into me with that amazing cock.
Finally, when I’m so wound up that I feel like I’ll collapse, he growls out, “Hand back to that button. Ramp it up. And when I tell you to come, I want you to do it and keep stroking. Don’t stop. Understand, whore?”
“Yes, Master, I understand.” Oh, god. This is going to tear me apart, I can just tell. I tease and torment my swollen nub while he pounds me so hard that I’m having trouble staying on my feet. Just when I think I can’t take another minute, he barks out, “Come with me, slut! Do it!” and slaps me on the ass.
My pussy clamps down tight and stars burst in balls of fire behind my eyelids. My hips are churning beyond my control, and I hear Jaz remind me, “Keep going. Don’t stop until I tell you to.”
I can’t help myself; I shriek and cry out, “Oh god, fuck me, Sir! Fuck me so damn hard, Sir, please!” My finger’s still working my clit when I stammer out, “Oh, please, Sir, please let me stop? I can’t stand it anymore, Sir, please. Please? Oh god, no more, no more, please?”
“Keep going. You want it, you know you do.”
I shake my head violently, my hips still bucking. I can barely speak when I answer, “I.Want. It. Sir. Please. Oh god, please, let me, oh, oh, OH GOD!” My body convulses for a second time, and all lucid thoughts stop. It’s like my fingers are working of their own accord, and the sensation of his shaft piercing me so hard and so fast intensifies everything. I’m getting lightheaded and weak, and the contractions in my belly are so strong that I’m bowed into myself, my mound pumping forward, my body trying to fuck him harder and deeper. With no warning, he grabs my hair and yanks my head backward, sending me over the edge again.
It’s all rewarded when I hear him cry out, “Oh, god, god, god, baby, I’m coming. Fuck, girl, fuck, fuck, fuck. Yeah, babe, YEAH!” His fingers grind into my hips as he gives me a half dozen slams that really do bring my feet up off the concrete, and then he grinds into me, the head of his dick buried in the end of my silky depths, pressing upward on my cervix and shifting everything inside my pelvis until I almost faint. In my climax-induced stupor I hear him say, “Hey, stop, babe. You can stop. Kimmie? Kimmie, stop.”
My hand drops from my slit and dangles, limp and spent. Knees trembling so hard I can barely stand, I wait while his hands hold me steady, his cock still buried in me, and I try to gain something that might look like composure. I don’t want him to pull out; I want him buried in me forever, but when he finally does, he tries to spin me to face him and my hand won’t turn loose of the railing. That makes him snicker, and he spends a few seconds prying my fingers free, then turns me. “Baby, look at me.” I’m trying to make sense of everything and he repeats, “Baby, look at me. Kimmie? Baby? You okay?”
“I, um . . . uh, I,” I stammer. The words just won’t come out of my mouth; they’re right there, but I just can’t get my lips to form them.
“Kimmie, look at me.” When I finally get my head to cooperate and force my gaze to his face, he’s got this amused look in his eyes that sends a smile careening across my heart. “Hey, baby, I love you.”
“I love you too.” Finally – my mouth’s working again. “That was . . . um . . .”
“I don’t know about you, but it was awesome for me!” He’s grinning like a loon, and I find it absolutely charming.
“Jaz, holy shit. I mean, holy shit. What the hell? That was crazy!” Now I’m sure I’m grinning like a loon.
“But did you enjoy it?” There’s a bit of concern on his face, and I almost giggle.
“Enjoy it? Yeah. You could say that.” I keep him dangling for a few seconds before I snicker out, “Can we do it again?”
He laughs right out loud and sweeps me into his arms. “Next time maybe you can be a prisoner and I’ll be a guard. How ‘bout that?”
“You fuck me like that and I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” I whisper and curl into his chest. I can hear his heart beating and its rhythm remind me of how much I love him and how much I never want to be without him.
“I’ll fuck you like that every time I get a chance. And may I say, you in those jewels and heels, naked and on this balcony? Oh my god, baby girl, I’ve never fucked a hotter piece of ass in my life. I think the only word that’ll do you justice is glorious.”
Me. Glorious. He can fuck me on the lawn of the Field Museum in a chicken suit if he’ll call me glorious again. Holy hell. All I can do is wrap my arms around him and press my face to his chest. And then, out of nowhere, it hits me and I’m so weary I can barely stand. I think he feels me sag and he says, “Let’s get you into bed. It’s been a long day and I’m pretty tired too.” In one smooth motion, he lifts me off my feet and carries me to the big bed, placing me there and, if I’m not mistaken, arranging my body to his liking.
I listen while he blows out the candles and snaps off his condom, and I can feel him working to take my shoes off and then my jewelry. That reminds me of a question. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Yes, baby.”
“Is that jewelry real?”
He chortles. “Yes. It really is jewelry.”
“No, no, I mean, are they real diamonds?”
“Do you want them to be?”
I shrug and grin. “Yeah. I want them to be.”
“Then they are. They’re real diamonds and you’re a real princess. I don’t know what that makes me, but . . .”
“You’re the king who fucked the princess and turned her into a queen,” my semi-lucid mind directs my lips to say.
“And gets to keep her?”
I giggle. “And gets to keep her.”
“Yay me! Scoot over, babe.” When I’ve managed to wiggle over a bit, he crawls into the big bed and pulls me up against him. It’s become automatic – my cheek rests on his chest, my free hand coming up to stroke the dark patch of hair spread across those hard pecs and down the center of those amazing abs. In the darkness, his arms holding me tight, Jaz whispers, “I love you, Kimmie. I never want another woman. You’re all I’ll ever need.”
“Thank you, Master. You’re all I’ll ever need too.”
A sweet, soft little kiss finds its way to my forehead and he whispers, “And you’re the absolute best submissive any Dominant ever had. You’re perfect, babe, perfect in every way.” His hand comes up to rest on my cheek, and the heat from his palm sends a shiver of arousal through my exhausted body. “Get some sleep. Morning comes early.”
Lying awake there in the darkened castle of a room, I snuggle into my king’s arms and bless the universe for letting me be his queen.
Chapter Eleven
“Holy shit.” That’s all I can find to
say. The cart sitting in the middle of the room when I wake is the most fantastic display of culinary excess that I’ve ever seen. Nestled on overflowing serving platters are strawberries and cream, sticky buns, eggs, sausage, bacon, biscuits and gravy, bananas, tangerines, pineapple, kiwi, and some kind of sauce to dip the fruit in. Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if it were butterscotch?, my half-asleep brain giggles.
“Yeah. They put out quite a spread. Okay, listen,” Jaz says as he ties his tie, “I’ve got to run. Misty will be here in a little over an hour for you. Nine o’clock. Be ready. She’s got a lot planned for you today. And here,” he says, handing me a handful of folded bills. “Make sure you pay for her lunch. It’s the least we can do.”
“Got it. Misty. Nine o’clock. Pay for her lunch. Big day. What should I wear?”
“Got a little dress and maybe some flat sandals?”
“Yep.”
“That’s what I’d suggest. And take some athletic shoes and socks with you, in case she wants to take you somewhere that’ll require a lot of walking, like the zoo or somewhere like that.”
“Good idea! So what time will you be done?”
He shrugs as he fastens on his watch and slips everything into his pants pockets. “I’m not sure. Sometime between five and six, I hope. I’ll be working alongside her husband today, so he’ll call her when we’re wrapping up so you two can meet us for dinner.”
“Oh! That sounds like fun!” As I talk, I chew up a sausage link and sprinkle pepper on my eggs. “What’s the sauce?” I ask, pointing at the little tureen.
“Caramel.” I guess I make a sad face because he laughs out, “Let me guess: You wanted butterscotch.”
“Bingo!” I yell out and shriek with laughter. To my surprise, he crosses the room to me and sinks down on his knees in front of me. My mouth drops open.
“Kimmie, last night was incredible. It was so much fun and, god, girl, I can’t believe how well you took that fucking.”
“I wanted more,” I assure him, my eyes staring into his.
“Oh, you’re gonna get more, to be sure, and probably this evening.”
“Good.” I look up at the clock. “How far away is the plant?”
“I’d better go,” he says in answer to my question. “I’ll call you a couple of times during the day. But have fun, please?”
“Yes, my liege,” I intone in my most serious voice and do a fake bow from my chair.
“Good god, you’re silly. And I love it.” Jaz rises to his feet and then kisses the top of my head. “I’ll see you this evening. Have a fun day and enjoy yourself. Please have Misty take some pictures and send them to me. I’d love to see what you’re up to.”
“Yes, Sir, I’ll do that. Bye, baby.” I rise and make it to the door before he has a chance to get out. When my hand reaches out and touches his arm, he spins around and grabs me up in his arms.
“Bye. I love you, Kimmie.”
I smile into his eyes. “I love you too, Jaz. Have a good day and don’t work too hard.” He leans in, gives my lips a little smack, and then the door closes behind him.
All I can do is stand there and hug myself. I know I should be getting ready to go, but I wander out onto the balcony and stand there in the morning sunlight, looking out across the city and thinking about last night. God, that was so fucking hot. Poor Robyn. She was going on about how gorgeous he is, but she’d just die if she knew how he fucks me. I’d have to fight her off with a big stick. Unfortunately, I have a feeling I’m going to have to fight off a lot of women with a big stick, but I don’t care. As long as he makes it clear that he wants me to, I’ll send ‘em all packing. He’s mine and he’s going to stay that way if I have a say in it.
It’s not until the hot water in the shower is pouring down over me that I realize how tired and sore my muscles are. I think about all the things it takes to survive an encounter with his body. Stamina, balance, muscle control, strength – the list goes on and on. I don’t know if I’ve been in his bed or the athletic department of the nearest university. I catch the scent of my perfume, his cologne, and our sex, and I want to stand there and breathe it in all day, but she – someone named Misty, apparently – will be here soon, and I’ve got to be ready. I find my the little dress that I brought with me, some panties and a bra, and a little pair of sandals that I bought at a consignment store. I decide in that moment that I’ll buy my clothes at consignment and thrift stores from now on. I want to help him have the things he needs and wants, and he deserves to have nice things to wear to work. I can work in anything.
I’ve gotten the last of my jewelry on, including my collar, when there’s a knock at the door. I expect room service, but instead, a cute, buxom redhead stands there with a huge smile on her face.
And a collar around her neck.
Holy crap! This is turning out to be a spectacular day!, my brain screams. “You must be Misty?”
“Yes! Hi! You’re Kimberly, right?” she gushes with her hand outstretched.
“Yeah! Come on in. I keep thinking room service will come and get the breakfast stuff,” I say in way of apology.
“Oh, they will.” She looks over the food. “May I?”
My eyebrows shoot up and I smile. “Sure! Take whatever you want.”
“Oh, this is good sausage,” she mumbles around the link she’s chewing.
“Yes it is. I loved it. The bacon’s pretty good too. Shame the eggs are cold. They were wonderful. Oh, and try those strawberries with that sauce. It’s delish,” I tell her as I put on my last earring. Then I decide to step out on a limb. “I like your collar. It’s very pretty.”
“Thanks! Yours is too.” She sweeps a strawberry through the sauce and lets out a “Yum!” Then she asks, “Do you know how I came to be here?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t quite know what you mean.”
“You know Jaz and my Sir know each other from California, right?”
“No! Really?” Well, that mystery is now solved. That was going to be my first question for him when he got back.
“Yeah. They both worked at the plant out there. Jaz was severed, and then Reggie had to go when the plant closed. Reggie found this job and let Jaz know about it; we were hoping to be at the same location, but they put Jaz in Chicago. I really like it here, but I’ve never been to Chicago. What’s it like?”
We spend a few minutes talking as I tell her about the museums and zoo, the ball parks and stadiums, and all of the shopping. I’m sure to throw in, “But you have much better winters here. Ours are vicious. I dread them, and I’m happy to see them go.”
“I bet, although we can have some pretty bad weather. I wish Jaz could’ve been here instead of there. But then he never would’ve met you. Sir says the guy’s head over heels in love with you.”
“I know I’m ass over teacup in love with him,” I grin.
“Of course you are! He’s gorgeous, fit, and sexy as hell. What’s not to love?”
“Exactly.” I pick up my bag and rifle through it. “Damn. I forgot to ask him for a key.”
Misty’s licking her fingers. “Oh, well, just make sure you’ve got everything. We’ll be meeting them tonight anyway.”
“True. So where are we going?”
“Thought I’d show you around a bit. Come on. It’ll be fun!” Misty leads the way and I look around the room before I close the door. Hope I didn’t forget anything important. If I did, I’m screwed.
We start out at the Gateway Arch – and I flatly refuse to ride the elevator to the top. Not happening, and she manages to snap a picture of me that makes it obvious exactly what I’m saying as she tries to talk me into it. We visit the stadium where the St. Louis Cardinals play ball, followed by a trip to the stadium where the St. Louis Rams play. Our lunch stop is at a little café at LaClede’s Landing, and there’s a really cute magic and costume shop there. Wandering around, I find a costume for a farm girl, give it just a few seconds consideration, and buy the damn thing. Wonder what Jaz will say to that?
We spend the afternoon in Forest Park at the art museum and the planetarium. I’ve always loved planetariums, and theirs is especially fun. There’s a place call the Jewel Box that’s like a huge terrarium, and I love that too. We stop down near the mall and have a coffee – I have chai – and I spend my time asking Misty about things Jaz and I could enjoy together on Saturday.
“Is he a big science person?” she asks me. Good question. I have no idea. When I shrug, she says, “The science museum is incredible. And the Missouri Botanical Gardens is beautiful. You’d both enjoy that. If you like zoos, the zoo is really nice too.” I know at that moment that we’re not going to have enough time to do everything I’d like, so we’ll just have to pick something. But when she says, “Oh, and Grant’s Farm. The Clydesdales are there, you know,” I know exactly where we’ll be going.
I like Misty so well that I find myself hoping we can come back, and I wonder what Reggie’s like. “So have you got a picture of you and Reggie?”
“Sure! Wanna see?” Misty gushes, and I nod enthusiastically. She whips out her phone and pokes around on the screen, then hands it to me.
Sure enough, there’s Misty, not much shorter than me, standing beside the most enormous black guy I’ve ever seen. He’s got to be seven feet tall. “Holy hell. How tall is he?”
She starts to giggle. “Seven feet two inches. He used to play professional basketball.”
“I bet he did! How on earth did you two meet?”
The story is wonderful, how they found each other online. Reggie was in California and Misty was in Florida. They talked back and forth, but it wasn’t until he had a chance to move to St. Louis that they got to finally meet each other. “We were careful because we didn’t really know each other, well, you know, in person, so it was kinda scary the first few times. But he was just like he seemed on the phone and the internet, and I was comfortable with him pretty quickly.”