I can’t . . . not do as he asks. Out of the shot of the camera, I shimmy my skirt up over my hips, hooking my thumbs into the sides of my knickers and sliding them down my legs.
‘Jesus fuck,’ he rasps. ‘Thigh highs.’ He rewards me and the sight of my stockings by slipping his hand under the soft cotton to release his hard cock from the confines. Tipping his head back, Flynn holds his length in both hands, yes, both hands, his thumb and forefinger teasing his engorged head, the other holding the base as he rubs.
I’ve never seen anything quite so explicit. Quite so erotic. And coming from someone who makes a living from sex, that’s saying something.
I don’t even debate the merits of my actions as I throw the balled-up scrap of lace at him, shucking out of my shirt and blouse. My skin feels alive and the fabric too heavy to bear. And I think my brain breaks a little as he catches my knickers against his chest, bringing them to his nose to deeply inhale. And all the while his other hand doesn’t stop. Holding himself, he rubs hard, then soft. Fast, then slow.
Smooth skin. Wet hand. Gasping, broken breath as he begins to pant.
‘You’re not touching yourself,’ he rasps. ‘Cheat.’
Never let it be said I don’t ever rise to a dare. At least, not when I’m aching and not when moisture is gathering between my bare legs. Not when something heavy and needy causes my heart to beat wildly.
Leaning back against the desk, I spread my feet and slip two fingers between my legs. My body bows at the contact, and I gasp.When did I last feel this kind of electricity when touching myself?Certainly not over the past six months.
‘Wider,’ he grunts. Images and sensations coalesce, drowning me in need as he bites the lace of my knickers, tipping his head back with a groan as he stretches the pale fabric, the colour contrasted against his darker skin. ‘Let me see.’
‘First—first to come gets the tape.’ This from me as my slick fingers reach a place I thought I’d lost—a place I thought had abandoned me. My body arcs into my hand, almost bringing me up onto my toes as I seek a pleasure that my body has denied me for long months.
‘That’s it, duchess. Come here, please.’ I shake my head, unable to form words. ‘The tape, it’s yours. Just, please. Come here.’
I was never going to make it public, anyway. And in a moment, I’m in front of him, and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with the tape. One hand on my hip, he brings my body over his, and as I straddle him, he tugs me down for a rough kiss. I seek to centre my body.
‘No, love. You need to finish this.’ He slides his fingers through my wetness, making me to buck and hiss. Then with the gentlest of kisses to the softness of my stomach, he takes his rock-hard cock into his hand once again.
‘That’s it—that’s it.’ His eyes are glued to where my fingers move fast and slick, my body bowing forward as I support myself with my hand on the back of the chair.
‘You’re’ killin’ me,’ he groans, his hand moving faster as his body twists, his mouth in line with my breast. ‘I’m gonna come on you.’ He wraps the scrap of lace around the base of his thick length as he begins to jack in earnest now. ‘Come on your sweet pussy and your tits.’
It’s pure sensation overload as I bridge the gap between satisfaction and ecstasy. Flynn’s face is a study in pure contrasts—of agony and ecstasy and everything in between.
I feel each nudge of his smooth head as it brushes my slickness. Feel the coarseness of the hairs on his thighs as they brush between my legs. It feels so good. Too good, and as my fingers continue their wet slide, I try not to look down. Try not to watch his expression, the dark moons of his lashes against his cheeks as he watches where we almost meet.
‘I want you to suck me off,’ he pants. ‘I want my mouth on you.’
His breathless demands and wishes push me immediately over that invisible edge.
There is nothing else but this moment.
And my tears of relief.
And this man whispering his sweet, filthy encouragements as he bucks up into me.
There is nothing but the pulse of my body and the sight of his own climax covering me.
Chapter 20
FLYNN
‘That was... that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.’ Her arms around my neck and her arse nestled into the cradle of my thighs, Chastity doesn’t speak. ‘Are you okay down there?’
She nods, so she’s not dead, at least, though seems to rouse herself almost immediately. She stands, taking her heat from me as she furtively wipes tears from her face.I hope those are tears of relief.Talk about a one-track mind as she reaches behind me and slips my shirt from the back of the chair, her luscious tits almost in my face.
‘I... I have stuff to say,’ she mumbles, her gaze languid and her expression relaxed. Then she turns, making her way to the desk to grasp some kind of control.Ah, the camera.She switches the lights off, making her way back to my lap.
I like this Chastity. This unguarded girl.
‘How did you know?’ she whispers. She’s slung her arms around my neck, hiding her face against my chest.
