15
Demi
Iswear he looks like a deer in the headlights on a busy freeway right now. I am fully fucking aware that we agreed to keep things platonic, but if I don’t come in the next two point four seconds, I’m going to bite someone’s head off and I’m not totally convinced that’s a hypothetical.
In my defense, I had no way of knowing this was going to happen. I was naive enough to believe I was just going to sit here and let him show the class some rope ties and then I’d go on my way.
Well… hedidshow them some ties. What he neglected to tell me, was that the sensation of the rough rope mixed with the touch of his big, surprisingly soft as fuck hands was going to leave every nerve ending in their path, somehow both wide awake and ruined at the same time. How is that even possible? It’s as if everything the rope scraped and took from my flesh, his hands went behind and soothed it all and put me back a little different than when I started.
I feel the same but somehow changed.
And that’s not even taking into consideration the relentless throb that’s taken up residence between my legs.
“Please don’t look at me like that,” I tell him. My pussy is so wet, there’s practically a slip and slide on my inner thighs. “I’m so goddamn keyed up, itwon’t even take much effort and then we can go back to being friends. I promise. You can’t leave me like this. It’s inhumane.”
He chuckles darkly, no doubt at my literal desperation. “What happened to not being your type?”
“Don’t worry. I still prefer vagina, but this rope is doing something to me that I didn’t expect and fingers and hands are just that… fingers and hands. They don’t have vaginas, so you’re good. See?”
Same. Different. Rough. Soft. Friends. Not friends. I can’t make sense of any of it. How horny does a person have to be for their brain to forget how to put sentences–or even thoughts–together? Apparently, the exact same amount of horny I currently am.
Someone needs to just end me now. Put me out of my horny misery.
He considers me for a moment and I seize the opportunity to use my eyes to plead my case. They're big and doe-shaped. Surely, they can seal the deal for me. If not, I guess this really is how I die. Death by orgasm denial. What a rude fucking way to go, if you ask me.
I make an attempt to turn to face him, failing miserably, but I don’t miss his pupils dilating like saucers as his expression changes quickly from surprise… to desire. He wants me, too. I know it.
His eyes soften a little. “Demi–”
“Don’t…” I have to stop him. I need this and I’m not about to let him lie to me and say he doesn’t. “Don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t want to make me come right now. Respectfully… Sir.”
Releasing a long exhale, he runs his fingers through his wavy locks before standing. Shit. This rope is really getting in the way of seeing him from down here.
“I’ll return the favor,” I blurt out. “I mean… I’ve never done it before, so I’m not sure if I’d be any good at sucking cock, but I’d give it a solidandenthusiastic effort. I suppose there’s also the issue of whether I could even fit that thing in my tiny mouth, but don’t they say all the nerve endings are at the tip anyway? I know, I could massage your–”
“Stop.” He commands, interrupting my nervous, horny rambling. I’m slightly grateful for it, too. I’d definitely give sucking him off my best effort, but balls make me nervous. Granted, I’ve never really seen them up close, but they just seem so fragile. What are they even there for anyway? “I said stop. That includes whatever is going on inside that pretty Little Pixie head of yours.”Fuck. Okay. Yes, Daddy… I mean, Sir.“Class dismissed. Everybody fucking out.”
I want to say that everyone left the room quickly, but they fucking didn’t. And Hayes just stood there like a statue of a mythical god, arms crossed, stoically watching each person file out while I sit here and suffer the wrath of my hypersensitive nipples currently trying to cut through this bra.
“You’re pretty cute when you beg so desperately, Babygirl.” I recognize that tone. It’s husky, rough and lower than usual. Playful Hayes has left the building. He’s been replaced with this raw, demanding version that I like almost as much as the other one. “You want to come?”
My head moves up and down the best it can. “Yes, Sir,” I pant.
He circles me slowly, snaking his fingers under the rope that rests just under my breasts. As he moves around, his fingers trail behind and the sensation has my pussy clenching–disappointingly–around nothing. Every few inches, he pauses to tug on the rope. Each time, I lose my balance, just a little, but the way he’s got me restrained combined with the way he’s manhandling me has my head spinning in the strangest but best way.
Once he’s positioned behind me, he leans over to whisper in my ear. “Tell me how you want me to make you come, Babygirl.”
A sound vaguely resembling a purr escapes my lips and I groan. I’m not good at this part. Raegan would always force me to tell her what I wanted. I’d give anything to not be reminded of her now. This day has already been weird enough after finding out she’s also his wife. That’s a lot to unpack and I just don’t have the brain capacity for it. Not yet.
“I… I, uh… can you choose, please… Sir?”
“Sure, Little Pixie.” His breath is still hot on my ear. “I can do that.”
His hand lands on my shoulder, then he slides it over me until his palm is covering my right breast. He makes a point of circling my poor nipple with hisfinger, which only makes it harder. When he pinches it harder than I expect, I let out a loud gasp. Shit. Someone had to have heard that.
Continuing down and over my stomach, taking time to squeeze and feel my softer areas as he passes them, he finally finds what I assume is his final destination. His fingers make quick work of hiding under the hem of my boy shorts until they’ve found the category four tsunami between my legs.
“Fucking drenched,” he mutters quietly in my ear. “I know it’s not my doing. Is this all from the rope and being tied up? Do you enjoy being helpless, Babygirl?”
