Pursing my lips, I force myself to turn and look at him. The sight I find is immensely, ridiculously erotic. Dorian, settled between my thighs, looking at me with glittering eyes. My body open around him,his fingers glistening as the continue to play with my wet, sensitive flesh.
“Are you ready?” he asks me.
I shake my head. He smiles, focusing his attention on my pussy. He wedges his shoulders firmly between my thighs, spreading me open, leaving me completely vulnerable to his gaze. He spends a long,longtime just staring at my pussy, until I think I might spontaneously combust.
Slowly, one of his fingers nudges my entrance. It slides into me easily, aided by the wetness spilling out of me. I release a low moan as my entire body tenses at the intrusion, and the noise only grows louder as he adds a second finger.
“Yes,” he breathes. “Give me your noises. All of them.” His thumb swipes around my channel to gather some of my wetness before gliding over my clit in a single, smooth circle. Shockingly, abruptly, and completely out of the blue, I come. My channel tightens around his fingers, fluttering, and Dorian sucks in a sharp breath as he feels it. His gaze rises to meet mine, and an irritatingly smug smirk tugs on his lips as he rubs several strong circles over my clit, again and again, turning my orgasm from tenuous to powerful, until my back bows. Warm waves wash through my body, tightening my nipples and forcing my belly to clench. A loud, drawn-out sound of pleasure escapes me. My orgasm is slow to subside, and as soon as it’s over, Dorian releases a groan. “Do you have any idea…” he shakes his head. “How fuckingperfectyou are for me?”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. He pulls his fingers out of me and lowers his head, replacing them with his tongue. I can’t help myself; I cry out. One slow, languid lick turns into a thrust as he practicallydrinksfrom me, making noises of enjoyment that wind me up. I feel myself approaching a second crest almost immediately, andthis one is more intense. I know it’s coming, I can feel it approaching, a high peak of a mountain that threatens to toss me into the oblivion of the valley beneath.
I reach down with my hands, intimidated, wanting to push his head away; Dorian grabs my wrists and pins them to my lower stomach, continuing to lap at me while rubbing my clit with his thumb. Up and down, small circles, from side to side… it doesn’t take long for my second orgasm to wash over me, and as expected, this one ismuchmore intense. It goes on longer, draining me of strength and the ability to do anything but cry out with pleasure. I try to twist my body to the side, but he holds me in place with his grip on my hands.
“Dorian,” I whimper. “Please, too much.”
“One more,” he says, pulling away. His thumb leaves my clit, andthreefingers glide right into me, causing tears to spark in my eyes. They hook upwards, finding a spot on my upper walls that makes my legs tense and toes curl as my belly clenches. “One more, then it’s over,” Dorian says.
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“You can,” he disagrees. “Your body responds to me so beautifully. I know you can. I could pull another dozen out of you if I was so inclined, but we made a deal. You gave me anexcellentkiss. So give me one more, Mira.”
“I can’t, I’ll die,” I press.
A laugh brushes over my clit like the most tantalizing feather. “You know that in French, an orgasm is calledla petite mort?A little death. You’ll have one more of those, but you won’tactuallydie.”
His tongue laves over my clit in two pulses before his lips wrap around it. His fingers tickle that spot on the top of my channel, and my vision blackens as I come again with ascream, accompanied by full-body convulsions. My head tosses from side to side, my bodywrithes, and through it, Dorian continues suckling on my clit and insistently rubbing his fingers over that magical spot in my channel, not letting up until I’m truly crying and babbling, begging for a reprieve. One last strong suction from his mouth nearly makes me pass out before he’s finally satisfied. His fingers pull out of me, his head pulls back, and he releases my wrists. My entire body trembles in the aftermath of my orgasm, and I finally understand what all the fuss is about with sex. That was justforeplay;I can’t imagine what Dorian will be capable of if we actually fuck.
He crawls up my body and his lips cover mine again. I taste myself on his tongue, the tang of my release. I moan again, clutching his shoulders, wrapping my legs around his waist. I cling to him like he’s a lifeline while he kisses me, demanding everything I have to give.
“Mira,” he murmurs against my lips. “You’resofucking beautiful. So fucking perfect. So fuckingmine.”
His words penetrate deep, reaching within me and warming some dark recess of my soul. Maybe it’s a result of all the pleasure hormones currently working their way through my brain, but Ilikethe sound of being his. I want it; crave it, even. I’ve never really belonged to anyone other than myself; I’ve always had to take care of and look after myself.
I learned how to handle my weapons because I knew living in my household was deadly. I took on odd jobs throughout high school—mowing lawns, gardening, teaching at summer camps—to save up money and get away from my house. Since my mom died, I’ve taken on life all by myself, and the world has not been particularly kind to me. What would it be like to have someone else who also looks out for me?
But it wouldn’t just be someone else, it would be Dorian. I get the strong sense that Dorian would take over my life completely if given half the chance, and I can’t have that. Not only because he provedhe’s incapable of protecting me barely a day after I met him, but also because I don’treallyknow if he’s reliable, and I don’t want to be robbed of my independence. I’ve worked too hard for it.
I turn my head to the side, breaking our kiss as my post-orgasm haze starts to fade. My entire body aches and I feel sensitive and thoroughly wrung-out. Three consecutive orgasms took a substantial toll on me; I already understand why Dorian refers to this as apunishment.I was in agony for the third, havingfifteenin a row would be a devastation on my senses.
Dorian presses one last kiss on my cheek before rolling off the bed. Strangely, I feel cold without him on top of me and near me, vulnerable and awkward. I shouldn’t want to curl up against him, but I do.
Before I can think it through, I ask, “Where are you going?”
“To get a washcloth and clean you up,” Dorian calls out. “Then to take the coldest fucking shower in history.”
As promised, he returns not moments later, holding a warm washcloth. When he runs it between my thighs, I whimper and wince, which makes himsmilewith satisfaction.
“Stay here,” he tells me. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I nod, curling up on my side, eyes fluttering with exhaustion. I barely hear the shower turn on before sleep lulls me into comfortable darkness.
Chapter Fifteen
“What t’fuck are you doing here?” An ominous, terrifyingly familiar voice demands of me.
Mystepfather’svoice, one that haunts me day and night. “I…” I fumble through words, trying to speak through the terror overtaking me. Iknowhe’s going to hurt me. I can see he’s in a foul mood; the small kitchen table he’s seated in front of is littered with half a dozen empty beer bottles, and one of his burner phones has been smashed to bits, presumably in a fit of his temper. When I’m not around to serve as a punching bag, Clyde tends to destroy objects.
In the morning, he’ll rant at me about how everything is my fault; he’ll find ways to blame me for all that’s wrong in his life.
