“You heard me,” I say darkly.
I watch her swallow, and then, ever so slowly, she nods. “Okay.” Her voice is small.
“You will finally trust me. With everything.”
I see her begin to shake, but she nods. I hate she has any fear with me. Soon, though, I will turn it into pleasure.
“Lay back.”
She hesitates a moment, then she does. She bites her lips, closes her eyes, then whispers, “Please take my fear. Take control. I want you to have everything.”
Naked on the soft, green grass, she is absolutely beautiful. This sun will never burn her skin, so I know I can take my time. I will take as long as I need until she gives up every fear, every secret, every shadow to me.
TWENTY-TWO
KSENIA
As soon asI feel his hands clamp down on my wrists and thighs to hold me in place, completely exposed to him, I feel a single moment of fear?—
And then it all dissolves in the freedom of knowing this is what it truly means to abandon control. Not holding onto a secret part for myself to exercise when he can’t see. I’m embarrassed by what I did in the river. I didn’t mean to do it. But then I thought, well, would it really besobad if I just reached down and touched myself if he was going to selfishly take his own pleasure without seeing to mine? Because I didn’t trust him.
And now I’m spread out again like a sacrifice before him, not knowing what will come next.
“You will not come,” he says. “Until you tell me your secrets.”
A little squeaking noise comes from my throat. And a foolish, rebellious part inside me howls,fine, I don’t need to come that bad anyway. It’s not like I’m some sex fiend.
I blink up into the sunshine above, so confused at the warring desires within me.
I want to tell him; I don’t want to tell him.
I trust him; I don’t trust him.
I want him to take control; I can’t help trying to wrestle it back from him.
What the hell iswrongwith me?
I close my eyes as I feel his head descend between my thighs, breathing out long and low as his amazing tongue licks up my center. For all my secret machinations in the water, I didn’t get time to climax before he caught me. Even the pleasure I was experiencing when I touched myself felt furtive and guilty and not nearly as explosive as when he gives it to me.
It also means my sex is still swollen and ready to be amped back up as soon as his mouth is on me. My breathing becomes uneven as the pleasure rises, but I try not to vocalize anything because the warring logic in my head reasons: well, if an orgasm justhappensto erupt before he realizes, then we can all just say, whoops, happy accident!
But he’s become annoyingly attuned to my body in such a short time. Even though I try hard not to give away that my rising pleasure is just seconds from peaking in the desperate release I want, he withdraws.
I can’t help the disappointed whine that escapes my throat. He chuckles, knowing exactly what he did.
“Tell me the things you keep hidden.”
My mouth stays stubbornly shut. In fact, I clamp it extra tight.
“Oh beloved,” he says low, and my body shudders, tears threatening. Now that I’m faced so directly with my hypocritical desires, I don’t know what to do.
He leans his head back down again, and I breathe out, thinking at least I might get the release of pleasure that, if not climax, is stillverygood and blessedly distracting.
Instead of his tongue, he just blows a warm stream of air across my pussy. I howl and squirm, but his hands hold my thighs steadfastly apart so I can’t even rub them together for friction. I look down my body at him hovering right above my sex. Then, as I watch, he extends his tongue and, with the very, very tip of it, gives the most glancing lick to my clit.
I shudder at the touch. And almost come. I swear.
“Please,” I beg. “Please let me come. Please, I’ll do anything.”
