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Alistair takes it slow, turning the bottle at the entrance to get it warm and slick.
I stare into his eyes and bite my lips shut, trying to keep from making any noise. He is enjoying this way too much. The lip of the bottle breaches the gateway and my mouth drops open. The neck of the champagne bottle is inside me. I’m scared to move. I’m in a kind of shock. Alistair leans in to kiss me, and as he does so he drives the bottle deeper, making me cry out into his mouth.
“Fuck,” he murmurs into me. “You are so fucking delicious.”
The bottle feels hard and strange, but I want it to stay inside me. I’m so turned on from everything that’s happened that I’m sure I’ll come. Alistair won’t take his eyes off mine, and our eye contact ramps up the intensity of the tryst.
Gently, gradually, with the smallest of movements, he starts to move the bottle in and out.
I groan, my eyelashes fluttering. I see a dancing mosaic of eroticism before us: the gold-nippled stripper in the birdcage; the sex toys; the office party; the human chocolate fountain. New scenes that have begun since we started ours.
The bottle continues its slow motion, in and out, but it’s going deeper now, and it’s warm. The shape of the bottle means that the deeper it goes, the wider I stretch. A golden knot of pleasure inside me begins unwinding. Alistair slowly goes harder and deeper, and I can’t breathe.
“Alistair,” I whimper. “I think I’m gonna come.”
His expression turns from utter desire to mischief.
“Be right back,” he says, and next thing he’s under the table.
I force myself to breathe, to appear calm, but it’s not easy when you have a billionaire with a champagne bottle between your legs.
The surprise of seeing him dive under the table pushed my orgasm back, but not for long, because he is expertly at it again, driving the warm glass deep into my swollen pussy until I want to scream.
Fuck.
Fuck!
I’m going to come so hard. I’m going to come so fucking hard.
He feels me start to shake; knows that I’m on the edge; knows that in a second I’ll be coming all over him. I’m teetering right at the top, then I fall into the best feeling in the world. As my contractions start clutching at the bottle, Alistair empties the champagne into me.
I cry out into my palm, which I hadn’t even realized was covering my mouth.
Cold. Fizzy. The waves of pleasure keep coming. I throw my head back, trying to keep my scream inside. It comes out as a high-pitched moan. Soon the bottle is gone and Alistair’s warm mouth is on me, a relief from the cold liquid as he empties me, replacing cold bubbles with his warm tongue. He does it just in time to feel the last of my pulsing.
Chapter 18
Vanilla
“You’re quiet,” Alistair says to me on the way back to the hotel.
I laugh. “That’s what happens when you blow someone’s mind. I feel like I’m in a post-climax coma.”
“It wasn’t too much for you?”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t too much. I mean, it was almost too much … but it was incredible.”
His hand is warm on mine. “Tell me more.”
I sigh. I don’t know what to say. And despite what has just gone down, I still feel reserved talking so openly about the details of sex. “I never in a million years would think that I’d do something like that.”
“No? Why not?”
“It was so … I don’t know.” I shake my head. The act wouldn’t even have occurred to me.
Erotic? Kinky? Out there. It was definitely out there.
“I understand,” says Alistair. “It’s different to what you’re used to.”
