"No," I admit, the word a half-sob. "Only you."
He adds a second finger to my ass, scissoring gently, while his mouth returns to my pussy from behind.
Tongue lashing my clit, fingers thrusting in tandem, he brings me to the edge once more.
My whole body seizes, orgasm hovering so close I taste it, muscles fluttering wildly.
"Stop," he commands, everything withdrawing at once. "Not yet."
I collapse forward, panting, tears streaking the sheets. "Sir, I need it. Please."
"Bedroom window." He hauls me up and walks me there, pressing my front to the cool glass.
The yard stretches dark and empty below, houses silent across the street.
His knee nudges my legs apart. "Hands high on the glass. Anyone looks up, they see you like this."
He drops behind me again, hands spreading my ass wide, tongue everywhere, clit to entrance to ass, sucking and licking with filthy abandon.
Fingers pinch my nipples through the position, twisting until I keen.
The exposure heightens it all, fear spiking the pleasure, and he drives me straight to that blinding edge again, body convulsing on the brink.
He stops.
With the fingers and his mouth gone, I slump against the window, sobbing openly now, pussy clenching on nothing, ass throbbing and empty. "Please," I beg, turning to face him when he pulls me back to the bed. "I'll do anything."
He sits on the edge of the mattress, legs spread, and strokes his cock through his open fly.
It's thick, veined, tip glistening. "On your knees, then. Show me how bad you want it."
I drop fast, knees hitting the floor between his legs.
My hands reach for him, wrapping around the base, feeling the heat pulse under my palm.
I lean in, lips parting, tongue flicking out to taste the salt at the head. His breath catches roughly, hand coming to my hair but holding back, letting me lead.
I take him in slowly, mouth stretching around the girth, hand stroking what won't fit.
Saliva drips down, making it slick, and I bob deeper, throat relaxing to take more.
He groans, hips twitching, but stays still. The mirror captures it all—me on my knees worshiping his cock, him watching with hooded eyes, control fraying at the edges.
My free hand cups his balls, rolling them gently, tongue swirling the underside on every upstroke.
He throbs heavily against my tongue, pre-cum coating my throat.
I pull back to the tip, sucking hard, hand pumping fast, then plunge deep again, gagging wet but pushing through.
"Fuck, Lena," he rasps, fist tightening in my hair. "Right there."
I hold him there, lips sealed around the head, hand twisting at the base, tongue pressing the vein.
His cock jumps, straining, his breaths coming sharply and unevenly.
The room narrows to this, his heat in my mouth, my hand owning the rhythm, the precipice we've both danced around now staring back at me.
5
