I pressed it back to my clit. “That feels so good,” I whispered, looking at him, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen his face look so tormented, even in the angsty music videos for his INK ballads.
“I know, baby,” he said. “I know.”
Why had I bothered doing anything else with this? Having the vibrator here wasfucking incredible, and I couldn’t sit still, it felt so good. I was arching and moving and Kallum watched my face as he added a second finger.
“Fuck,” I managed, and he gave me a devasting smile.
“That word sounds good coming from you, Winnie Baker. Why don’t you try turning the toy up?”
That was an amazing idea, and I immediately obeyed, the toy going frombzzztoBZZZZZ, and then my body practically arched right out of the chair. “Holyshit,” I cried. “Holy shit!”
Pleasure skated up my ribs to my breasts and throat; my thighs quivered; my pussy was the center of my entire world. Kallum’s fingers filling and pushing—not thrusting and jabbing like Michael used to—and the vibrations... thevibrations!
“I want to do something dirty with you,” Kallum said, and I stared at him through a haze of vibrator-induced fever. His eyes were hooded and his chest was flushed under the gold fleece of his hair. “Can I?”
There was something dirtier than this? Dirtier than riding my costar’s hand while using a sex toy?
“Yes,” I breathed. “I want it. I want it.” I wanted every filthy thing. I wanted it done to me, and I wanted to do it to him. I wanted to go as far as our imaginations could take us. Even further.
“Keep using your toy,” he rumbled, and then used the two fingers currently fucking me to paint a line of slickness down to my—
“Kallum!” I squeaked as his fingertips grazed against a spot that... well, let’s just say it was a spot that had never beengrazedbefore.
He looked up at me, his fingers going still, but not moving away. “I think this will feel good,” he said. “I think you might like it. But this is just for you, Winnie Baker. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“No, I do,” I said quickly.
I wanted to try everything. I didn’t want sex fenced in by my old ideas ofshouldorshould not. I knew where that got me: not having had a single waking orgasm by the age of thirty-two.
“Or I want to try it, at least. If I don’t like it, then we can stop, right?”
“Of course,” said Kallum. “And I’ll go slow. Promise.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
He pressed his first two fingers back where they were before, and at the same time, he pressed his pinkie finger down below, and then he leisurely,tantalizingly, began pushing in. A bare millimeter at a time, it felt like, and it was so wrong, so taboo, to have someone touching me there, but it felt so good too, a twisted little secret that my body had been keeping from me,that there could be pleasure in a place that definitely had nothing to do with making babies.
And then all three of his fingers were fully inside me, working in and out in slow, yummy drives, all while I kept the toy against the swollen bud of my clitoris. I looked down and saw the picture it made: my thighs framing the view of his broad chest and rounded belly, of one hand planted on my thigh and the other hand fucking me, stretching me. Filling me in two different places. His fingers shined every time he dragged them out; there was a slight tremble to the hand on my leg, as if some powerful need was running through him.
I hoped so. I hoped this was affecting him too, because it was well beyond affecting me. I was currently on the edge of the chair, trying to meet his fingers with my hips, trying to screw myself onto his hand.
“What does it feel like?” he whispered, and I was panting so hard I could barely answer.
“Full,” I eked out. Each time he stroked in and out ofthatplace, I could feel it everywhere. My chest. My throat. “It’s like the feeling of having the wind knocked out of you, but it doesn’t hurt. I never want it to stop.”
“Mmm,” he said and bent forward to suck on my nipple again. I didn’t know what noises I was making, what I was babbling, but I knew that everything inside of me felt wonderful and strange. I felt like I was at the edge of something massive, and I was abruptly terrified of falling. Like it would be too much, somehow, like I wouldn’t survive it.
And then Kallum did something with his hand, some deep curl of his finger in that untouched part of me, and it was nolonger a choice. With a low, ragged moan, I fell over the edge, a moment of breathless agony followed by an explosion of pleasure, pleasure that kept growing and growing, until there was nothing but the hard, hot pulse of my core—my sex and my anus—clenching around Kallum’s expert hand. Until there was nothing but the surges of bliss so intense that I couldn’t think, couldn’tbe, all I could do was mindlessly move my hips for more, more, more.
And it lasted forever, for my entire life, or for at least the last decade or so that I should have been feeling this, and when I could finally drag in a real breath again, my lips were tingling and I felt dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.
I blinked Kallum’s face back into focus. Hooded blue eyes, tight jaw. He was looking at me like he wanted to eat me alive.
I had just enough strength to pull the vibrator away from my crotch and turn it off. It dangled limply from my hand as Kallum and I looked at each other. His fingers were still inside me, and I was so sensitive that I felt every inch of them. I wanted them to stay where they were.
I bit my lip, and Kallum’s face changed. If he’d looked hungry before, then he lookedanguishednow.
“You’re the only person who’s ever seen me come,” I said, not knowing why I needed to say it. “You probably guessed that since I told you about all this back in LA, but just in case you didn’t know.”
