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“Remember your safe word?” He asks.
I whimper and nod.
“What is it?”
“Dragon.” The single word isn’t what I would have picked, but it feels right. Strong. Dangerous. Deadly.
He hums against my skin. “Good girl.”
I know he told me sex won’t happen right now, but why remind me of my safe word if it’s completely off the table? Testing the waters, I adjust ever so slightly. His tip sinks a fraction of an inch into me, barely parting my lips. We both groan in unison.
“Don’t you fucking move,” he commands, words tight and strained. Like he’s about to lose it. I’ve never felt so sexy in my life.
For a moment, we stay frozen on the edge of a precipice, on the ledge of the roof. It’s like he’s trying to decide something. Or fight something. I hold my breath. Unsure which outcome I want. The continued anticipation. Or the release.
I see the moment he decides, and a second later, he sinks to his knees between my legs, grips my thighs, and looks up at me with an expression I’ve never seen before in relation to me. It’s… reverence.
He keeps his face tilted up, his eyes on mine, as he brings the flat of his tongue to my clit and glides it back and forth. I wobble on the edge of the glass railing and grip the sides for balance. My position demands that I pay attention. I can’t relax, surrender, lean back. I have to stay right here, controlled and alert, looking down at the powerful, wealthy, dominant man on his knees in front of me.
His eyes roll back in his head. A huffed curse tickles the curls between my legs. “Fuck, you taste good. So sweet.”
One hand slides up my side to cup my breast and pinch my tightened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He rolls it, gentle but firm, as his tongue caresses me.
I whimper and squirm. Needing to get closer. More. The movement tips my balance, and one hand slips off the edge, pulling my shoulder and back over with it. I cry out, but Midas is already grabbing me, standing as he pulls me into his chest and keeps me from tipping over the edge. I wrap my legs around him like a koala, which just lines my pussy up with his cock, which is still out of his pants and sticking straight up against his belly.
Panting from the near fall, trembling, I rock my hips. His tip rubs my clit. Once. Twice. A curse. A gasp. Again. And I fly into an orgasm that is birthed of adrenaline and lives in pleasure. It’s all consuming. Overwhelming. Incredible.
“Midas!” I gasp as my pussy spasms and clenches, squeezing around the very tip of his cock for barely a breath before he pulls back.
“Fuck, Jeslyn, you’re going to ruin me.” Our panting breaths mingle as he brings his forehead to mine, one arm banded across my back keeping me steady as I fall apart, and his other hand palming the back of my head to hold me still, face-to-face with him as I continue to tremble from my release.
I wiggle forward, squeezing my legs more tightly around him, letting him know I’m nowhere near done yet.
He chuckles. “Does your greedy little cunt want more already?”
His use of such a harsh word is growing on me, doing things for me that I don’t want to look at too closely. In answer to his question, I nod so emphatically I feel like a child pleading for candy.
“Beg,” he says.
I have no shame. I rub myself against him and obey. “Please, Midas. Please. I need you.”
The music changes inside, and Midas sighs. He kisses my forehead, unwraps my legs, and sets me on my feet. When he tucks himself back into his pants, I whine, begging again, “Please.”
His lips twitch. He grabs me, spins me around so my hips hit the glass railing and my chest leans over the edge, his body pressed against mine. “I love hearing you beg. I think I’ll enjoy it a little longer.”
He pulls down the top of my dress, and pops my boobs free, the exposed upper half of me dangling over the streets of New York. The cold air hardens my already tight peaks and each time his thumb rolls over them, sparks fly down my skin. When he kisses my neck, my pussy aches. I whimper, whine, beg over and over for him to claim me right here and now.
He keeps me pinned over the railing, working me into a frenzy. I’ve never believed the rumors that some women can come just from nipple stimulation. Until now. I can feel the beating climb of an orgasm chasing me.
“Do you want to come?” He asks in my ear.
“Yes. Please, yes!”
“Good.” He kisses my neck and yanks me up, spinning me to face him, then pulls up the top of my dress. I'd be offended if he didn't look longingly at my breasts before tucking them away. He smooths the dress out for me and says, “Now be a good girl and wait.”
“Bastard,” I say under my breath, earning a chuckle from Midas that makes me beam with pride. He doesn’t give those out easily.
He takes my hand and leads me back towards the party. I feel like everyone is going to know exactly what we were up to when they see the state of me, but to my surprise when I look down there isn’t a single wrinkle in my dress, and when I twist to look at my backside, there are no wet patches. Monica really is a wizard. I wonder if he teased her like this too, made her wait. Or did he lose control with her, unable to hold himself back?
