He hadn’t forgotten us, though.
When one call ended, he’d gesture one of us forward. He’d stroke Oliver’s hardness with one hand while making notes with the other. He’d call me to him and stroke my pussy while speaking to his solicitor about property boundaries. It was clinical and controlled, and he always stopped before we could orgasm.
Small, broken noises escaped Oliver’s lips despite his best efforts to remain silent. His cock was an angry redand so hard it looked painful. Whenever Kiernan touched him, he jerked like he’d been electrified.
I wasn’t faring any better. The yearning had become unbearable. I’d lost track of how many times he’d brought me to the edge and left me there. I was a wound-up spring, ready to shatter at the slightest provocation.
Kiernan set his mobile on the desk. “Get on the sofa.”
Oliver sat at one end, and I sat as far away from him as the small space allowed.
“No.” Kiernan rose and stepped closer. “Together. Oliver, rest on the arm. Ophelia, sit with your back to his chest.”
We rearranged ourselves. Oliver’s breath was hot and ragged as he pressed into me.
Kiernan crouched in front of us.
“You want to touch each other so badly.” His words were soft, almost gentle. “I can see it. Feel it. The way you’re trembling.” He reached out and brought Oliver’s hand to my breast. “Go ahead.”
Oliver’s breath caught. “Sir?”
“Touch her. You have permission.”
Oliver’s thumb brushed my nipple, and I arched into the contact, moaning.
“That’s it.” Hunger was apparent in the words he spoke. “Show me what you wanted to do this morning.”
Oliver’s other hand traced my hip, my thigh, then dipped between my legs. When he found my clit, I cried out and jerked in his arms.
“Feel how wet she is?” Kiernan asked.
“God, yes.” Oliver sounded wrecked as he circled, stroked, then slipped inside me. “She’s soaked.”
“Because of me. Because I made her wait.” Kiernan leaned closer. “You could learn from that, Oliver. The anticipation is half the pleasure.”
Oliver’s rhythm grew more urgent. He thrust his digits into me while his thumb worked my clit. The pressure built, spiraling higher, faster?—
“Stop.”
Oliver’s hand froze, and I sobbed with frustration.
“Not yet.” Kiernan’s fingers closed around Oliver’s wrist and tugged his hand away from me. “Now.” He rose and returned to his desk. “The two of you on your knees. Over here, where I can see you.”
More time passed. I could no longer see the clock, so I couldn’t tell how long we remained there. It should have gotten easier. I was so far gone that the edge had becomemy constant state. But Kiernan knew exactly how to keep us suffering.
Eventually, he abandoned the pretense of working and studied us while he asked questions.
“Oliver. How badly do you want to come?”
“More than anything, sir.” his voice was barely recognizable. “Please. I can’t?—”
“Not yet.” Kiernan glanced in my direction. “Ophelia. If I told you to make him come right now, would you?”
The question made my heart stutter. “Yes, sir.”
“Even though you haven’t come yourself?”
“Yes.” I swallowed. “I want—” I looked at Oliver. “I want to give him that.”
