“This thing… fucking rocks!” she manages. Her body is jerking, making the words come out stilted and choppy.
“Shall we try the highest setting?” I ask, running a hand down the length of her torso, pausing to pinch one of her tight nipples.
“Yes!” she cries out, bowing and pressing her breast harder into my hand. “Wait, no. No! I’m gonna… fuck! Don’t change it. It’s so good!”
I move to take the tip of her breast into my mouth, but her hand flies to my head, fingers threading into my hair, and she tugs my head towards hers. Our lips meet in a hard kiss, both demanding more than we’re willing to give. We nip and suck and bite at each other, vying for control and getting lost in the intimacy of being connected. Pleasure courses through me, collecting at the base of my spine and tingling with the need for release.
She breaks away and shrieks. “I’m…”
“Say my name,” I growl, reaching down and gripping her nipple hard between my fingers. “Scream it. I want everyone to hear you.”
Her whole body tightens, and her limbs shake. She wails, and it’s like the sob is being ripped from her chest. “Wesley! I’m coming! Fuck, Wesley! Wesleeeeey!”
Any man who thinks he “can tell” when a woman is faking it, but doesn’t get this level of response from an orgasm is a muppet. This is raw, ugly, and not trying to be anything it’s not. It’s honest. It’s perfect.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.
She’s panting, squirming, and softly moaning “noooo,” so I switch off the vibrator. Once she’s caught a few deep breaths, I help her into a sitting position.
“That was stunning, love.”
“Wow,” she breathes, reaching down and pulling the device out of her pussy. It makes an entirely obscene, wet sucking sound. “Youmadethat? In, like, one day?”
I barely hide the grimace. In truth, I’ve been working on it ever since the day I listened to her masturbating from the closet.
But she doesn’t wait for confirmation or an answer, breezing right past her own question with a contented, “This thing is gonna be huge with the depression/anxiety girlies. It needs a name. Branding.”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
“Clitty Clitty Bang Bang?”
“Definitely not.”
“The Sham-oh-oh-oh-Wow?”
“I hope that’s not a proper suggestion.”
“The Boyfriend Replacer.”
“The Brat Tamer,” I counter.
She grins and cocks her head to the side. “I dunno,” she says, a mischievous kind of mirth twinkling in her eye. “I don’t feel very tamed.”
“You will,” I promise, making her giggle.
21
Madison
Don’t you think we’ve delayed this gratification long enough?
My knees are still shaking from Wesley’s little miracle vibe as we move into the bedroom. He’s so hard and seems so keyed up that I kind of expect him to immediately reach for me when we’re within dwarf-tossing distance of the bed, but he holds up a finger and disappears. When he returns to the room, he’s holding a big glass of water that he hands to me as I settle on the bed.
“Drink it,” he instructs.
“Bossy,” I mutter, but don’t hide the smile as I do as he says.
When he looks up and sees my glass is empty, he holds out his hand for it and sets it aside. He starts carefully unrolling his sleeves, eyes downcast and focused on the task. “Now that we’ve settled that, are you ready to begin?”
