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„You’re such a good girl,” his deep voice cuts into my hazy thoughts.
He’s smiling when I open my eyes, a warm and friendly smile that belies the harshness of his touch from before.
„Thank you,” I whisper.
He tilts his head, looking confused, as a thin line emerges between his brows.
„For what?” he asks.
„This,” I say. „For this…feeling.”
That sounds so stupid, so naive and childlike, and I lower my head in shame. But he doesn’t let me shy away, stopping me with his right hand while his left remains beneath my blouse, still cupping my breast. He flicks his thumb across my hard nub, and I swear the sensation almost makes me come. I’ve never been this aroused, so dizzy with wanting.
„You’re very much welcome,” he says. „But we haven’t even started yet, my little flower.”
I breathe in audibly when he lets go of my breast, the tip of his finger caressing my skin as he wanders down to the hem of my jeans.
He doesn’t stop there, but manages to unbutton it within a few moments, before he pulls down the zipper. I’m painfully aware of the fact that I’m not wearing any underwear at this moment, and when a chilly breeze hits us, I feel even more exposed than I actually am. If anyone were to see us right now, they’d have no idea that my jeans are undone and his hand is about to touch my bare mound. I’m completely bare and shaved, just like he asked, which makes me even more sensitive to his intrusion when he forces his hand beneath my pants.
He cups my sex with his palm, pushing as if he’s trying to lift me, but then he uses two fingers to part my lips.
„Fuck,” he exclaims, when he dips a finger into my wetness. „My little flower, why are you so wet for me?”
I swallow dryly instead of saying anything, but I know he won’t be happy without a verbal response.
„You,” I breathe, barely loud enough to drown out the wind on the roof.
„Me, huh,” he says. „Do you like being touched by me?”
„Yes, Sir.”
I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty proud of myself for remembering the correct reply this time. It feels like an accomplishment, like I’m already proving to be worthy of him.
„Good girl,” he growls, as if he knows what those words are doing to me.
I moan and can’t stop myself from bending backwards when he uses a third finger to circle my clit while he keeps my lips spread apart with two other fingers.
„You want to come on my hand, little flower, don’t you?” he asks.
I nod instead of saying anything, but when he uses his other hand to grab a fistful of my hair, I hurry to say: „Yes, Sir.”
He lets out a dark chuckle and intensifies his circling motions around my swollen clit. Each time he caresses my most sensitive spot, it feels as if he’s casting bolts of electricity right through my veins, edging me on and bringing me dangerously close to my climax.
I jerk up when he finds a particularly good spot, and when he notices, he repeats the same motion, again, and then another time.
„I’m gonna c—”
„Oh, no, you’re not!” he objects. „You’re not coming until I allow you to come, do you understand?”
My nod is accompanied by a mewl this time, but of course that isn’t enough for him.
„Do you understand?” he repeats, with more urgency this time.
„Yes, Sir,” I produce. „Yes, Sir. I understand.”
He does it again, and I’m almost sick with dizziness, as every fiber of my being is fighting to resist the urge to let go, to finally find my release after being on edge for this long.
But he has other plans.
