“Take it off,” he says in a low growl, and I slide my hands over my body, touching my breasts the way he did, letting myself enjoy my own touch as I bend over, sliding the fabric off my hips and down my legs. Two steps out of the way, I hold the thong by my pinky, slowly arching my way back up and getting a view of his bulge. Well, I guess he’s enjoying the view. Another flush of heat washes over me as I stand fully naked in front of him.
In my head, he’s smirking with a seductive smile, his eyes hooded as he watches my every move.
“Are you enjoying this?” he asks.
“As much as you are,” I retort.
“Kitten, I’ve already told you, this isn’t about me. It’s for you.” His fingers brush down my arm as he leans in closer. Our chests touch as he whispers, “Touch yourself. Feel how wet you are.”
There’s a flicker of shame as I do as he says without hesitation or question. Why does he have such a hold on me? But the shame vanishes when I feel between my folds and the slickness coats my fingers. “Fuck.” I’ve never been this aroused with such little physical contact. My fingers continue to swirl around my clit and into my pussy, the pleasure building.
His hand snakes down my wrist and his leather-covered fingers work in unison with mine. “My turn,” he says, moving my hand out of the way. He circles my clit with his thumb as a finger slides inside me.
I gasp and wrap my injured arm around his neck, gripping the table with my other one. I can’t remember when I’ve felt this desired and weak at the same time. He continues to work my body, each thrust makes me moan. I stare at him, imagining him filled with the same desire, wanting me.
“Can your tight pussy handle more?”
Before I can answer, he slips a second finger in and I cry out, his name on my lips. I’m beyond words. The pressure is building in my core. He pulls out his fingers and lifts them to eye level, my wetness coating them. “Have you ever tasted yourself?”
I shake my head. His free hand wraps around the base of my skull as his two fingers move closer to my lips. “Taste yourself, Kitten, and I’ll let you come.”
My mouth opens as I take a long lick from his gloved fingers. It tastes of musk and leather, but it’s not the flavor that’s doing it for me, it’s the act of sucking him in. It's the most intimate thing he’s let me do to him. I stare into his eyes, or at least the point on the mask I’ve been using as a reference.
“Your mouth is a sin,” he groans as he tightens his grip on my hair. One more lick from the base to the tips of his fingers and he pulls them away. He steps back, taking me all in.
“Fox?”
“Yes, Kitten?”
I lean back on the table and spread my legs further. “Would you like a taste?” My anxiety builds, each passing second feels like a lifetime. Did I misinterpret this? Will he reject me? Am I being too forward?
His voice is deeper than normal. “Lay down and spread your legs wider.”
The table is cold against my back and the dampness between my legs isn’t helping matters. As I settle into the new position, he towers over me. He presses his hand on my chest and takesthe opportunity to stroke my breast with his fingers as he says, “Don’t lift your head from the table.”
He vanishes from my line of sight as his head dips between my legs. “Fox?” His hands freeze on my inner thighs as I only see the top of his mask. “Don’t forget a pillow for your knees.”
“Damnit, this is for you, not me.”
“I won’t be able to get off if I think you’re in pain. And since I don’t know anything about you, I’ve made up that you have an old knee injury from some sort of sport I haven’t picked out yet.”
I imagine him suppressing a smile as he closes his eyes and groans. His hands leave my skin and I assume he grabbed a pillow because I hear him adjusting. Then his hands squeeze my inner thighs with sharp pressure. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy.” I honestly don’t know what to say. “Thank you” seems weird.
I feel a new wetness at my opening, followed by the guttural vibrations of his moans. One, two, three deep, long licks before he says, “Fuck,” and starts to ravage me with his tongue. He drinks from me like a man who’s run a marathon. When he adds his fingers, it feels like I’m being worshiped by a man whose only chance of heaven is getting me off.
I lean back against the table, but it’s getting harder because my body starts to squirm. He’s hitting all the spots, sucking my clit like it’s a free lollipop at the bank, and fingering me like he wishes it was a different part of his body. The pressure builds and my back arches. I will my head to stay on the table. “Fox!” I cry out as the pleasure mounts and my body breaks under the pressure. My head presses against the table, grounding me.
“You taste so fucking good and you’re worried about me,” he says between my legs. “That’s going to mean a long night for you.”
He goes back in, more passionate, sucking harder and moaning. This time it takes even less to send me over the edge.
A new fear grips me. What if he doesn’t want to stop? What if my body can’t take it? But a louder thought takes over. I don’t want him to stop, and I want him to break me. I grab the back of his head, the soft fabric between my fingers, and I hold him against my pussy, riding his face and making him mine. This time his fingers hit something new, and I might die as the largest wave yet hits me. I want to cry because my body feels detached from my mind. Pleasure and bliss wrap around my limbs until I’m left a shaky mess.
I don’t see him pull down the mask, but when he stands, he’s covered. “Fox, can I do anything for you?”
He walks to the side of the table and pushes the hair out of my face. “You’re perfect. Let’s just leave it like this.”
The lights flick on and off.
