“Please!” I cry out. “Give me more.”
“More pressure?” he asks, brows up.
“No.” I shake my head adamantly. “I’ll die with more pressure. Just give me a whole second of it like that.”
His head tilts to one side, thinking it over.
“Thing is, I’m kinda having fun watching you shake and tremble for me just like this. I’m not in any hurry here, darlin’. We’ve got a couple days, at least, before anyone’s gonna come looking in the shop.”
My knees go weak at the image of being here, at his mercy, strung up in chains for another day or two.
“Far as I can tell, I could keep you here this whole time, never letting you come, just keeping you on the brink until your pussy drips right through those hot little shorts you’re wearing and you’re so turned on you’ll come from a single little breath anywhere near your cunt.”
Tears brim my eyes at the picture he paints. “You wouldn’t,” I gasp.
“Nah,” he says, easy smile back on his gorgeous face. “If you wanna come, you’re gonna come, angel. How could I not reward you when you’re being so good for me?”
He reaches up with the hand that isn’t controlling the nozzle and pinches my unpierced nipple, rolling it between his thumb and finger through the shirt. My head falls back, pleasure burning a trail from my nipple to my clit, it’s like a hotkey to getting me off. His hand pulls back just before it gives me what I need and I could sob at the loss of his touch.
I get another puff of air, this one a little longer, but still just shy of enough to give me the release I’m aching for.
Weston hears me falling apart, damn near crying at the way he’s bringing me to the edge without letting me fall over, time after time.
“What do you want?” he asks me. He always asks me what I want. So fucking thoughtful. Even when he’s the one in control and I’m at his mercy, it’s all aboutme.
“To come,” I tell him, without a second thought.
“Mmm,” he groans, pressing the sound into my thigh, lips on my flesh, before biting the skin there gently. “I want that too,” he says, admiring the marks he left in my skin.
Weston leans forward, pressing his tongue to the leathery material of my shorts, and licks a trail up my pussy, pushing in with his tongue enough to separate my lips and reach my clit, even through the fabric.
My legs shake around his upper body, and he gives me a filthy grin as he feels it.
So often when we’re together it’s like he can’t even take the time to remove my clothes. He needs me so bad he starts with them still on and in his way. I hope that never changes.
Shoving his fingers beneath the hem, he yanks on the fabric, pulling it to the side so he can watch for himself. “Fuck, you’re a mess right now, Amelia.”
“So clean me up,” I demand, praying he does.
His tongue comes out and I watch as he slowly plunges it into me, through a wide hole in the fishnets, soaking in everything my pussy’s been giving him. Those gorgeous green eyes close tight, and the moan he makes rumbles against my pussy in a way that feels like the start of an avalanche. I’m so close, if he gives me just a little more,anythingmore, I’ll fall, and it’ll just keep going and going. Shit, it might never end, he’ll bury me in pleasure and I won’t complain.
“Please,” I beg him.
He doesn’t answer with words, but with his mouth. His tongue licks a path through my pussy and then he presses the flat of it against my clit, hard. My legs jerk, I’m so fucking stimulated and I scissor forward, the chains yanking me back by the wrists, clanking as they do.
His mouth moves back down to my core, spearing my entrance and fucking me with his tongue. Once his eyes shut, slamming closed, it only takes me a second to figure out why. He’s let some of the material cover me up again, and with his tongue still buried in me he brings the hose back up and gives the trigger a long, long press.
Air crashes against my clit through the layers as his tongue devours me, and I’m done for. Body tingling, my orgasm crashes into me, coursing through me like a tsunami, barreling me over with pleasure that feels like it takes over every single nerve in my system. There is only one signal going to my brain right now—no dark past I’m running from, no bad memories flickering behind my eyes, not even my pessimist has any critiques on this moment—it’s nothing but pleasure, and I never want the moment to end.
I can’t help the noises I make as I come, or the fact that I have no control over what’s happening to my body, legs jerking, kicking, as he fights to keep me in place while he milks theorgasm from me, forcing me to ride the entire thing out rather than cutting it short by letting off on any of it.
Pretty sure I visit other planets, entirely different solar systems or galaxies as I come back down to earth, dangling from the chains—legs long since given out—Weston rising from between my legs to hold me as I come down from the most insane release of my life.
When my murmuring becomes more coherent once again, he pulls back, pushing some hair behind my ear as he watches me. “For the record, that took eight puffs,” he says, an easy, teasing smile gracing his lips. “Good girl for screaming when you needed to, and coming when I let you,” he praises me. His words send flutters through me, a tingling warmth that spreads throughout my center at hearing I did well for him.
But as the fuzz in my head clears, I remember that was only two of the three things he wanted me to do.
“When do I get to swallow your cum?” I ask, somehow mustering the strength for words.
