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She nodded and felt tears run down her cheeks. Jameson wiped them away, his face filled with patience and love.
“Every time you feel scared or anxious, or if you think you’re going to pull your hair, you’re to call one of us. Understand?”
“You are not alone now,” Jack reminded her.
“We’re all here to take care of you,” Ian said. “And what’s more, we want to. You take that away from us when you hold things back.”
“I’m sorry,” she said to them. “You’re right.”
Jameson pushed them back from the table so that they could all surround her, whispering words of praise and love. Until Ian’s phone rang.
He looked down at it, frowning. Then he sent Jameson and Jack a look before walking from the room.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. We’ll wait for Ian to tell us,” Jameson told her firmly. “Let’s get you cleaned up a bit.” He slid her off his dick, then lifted her so she was sitting on the table.
She groaned. “But, Sir, don’t I get to come?”
“No,” he said sternly. “You come only when I give you permission. Jack, could you get a cloth for our girl?”
Why would she need that?
Jameson tucked his dick back into his trousers. She frowned, missing it already.
She felt empty.
“Don’t you want me to take care of that for you, Sir?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
Drat. If she’d gotten her mouth around him, maybe he’d feel obliged to repay the favor.
Jack returned with a wet cloth.
“Lie back,” Jameson ordered. “Feet up on the table, legs spread.”
Oh, crap.
That’s why he wanted a cloth.
Knowing that arguing would only make it worse, she lay back. Jack moved around beside Jameson to watch as he cleaned her pussy and the tops of her thighs.
So embarrassing.
She whimpered as he brushed the fabric over her clit. It was too much. She was too sensitive.
“Please, I can’t take it.”
“Shh, precious girl,” Jameson crooned. “You’re all right.”
She really wasn’t though.
Was it possible to die from orgasm denial?
Jameson placed the cloth over her pussy and applied pressure by putting his palm over the cloth.
It did help.
