Page 222 of Wait for Him

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck—"

I can't catch my fucking breath. His fingers run through my wet folds, rubbing over my clit, dipping just close enough to my entrance to make me think finally before the asshole pulls away again. I'm getting close fast, and he knows it. My hips are chasing his hand now, trying to take what he refuses to give me, and right when I'm about to come, he stops completely.

"Fuck you," I pant, grinding uselessly against his fingers.

He doesn't give me a damn thing. Instead, he drags the tip of the plug through my arousal, getting it slick before moving it lower and pressing slowly against my ass.

Oh.

I love him.

I hate him.

Mostly I need him to hurry the fuck up.

"Breathe, pet. Let me in."

I take a deep breath, and the bulb slides in and settles, leaving me so damn full in this position.

When he's satisfied, he kisses one cheek and then the other.

"There she is. My good girl. This is so fucking sexy."

Jesus.

We definitely discovered a thing.

Jackson turns his attention to the audience while he unbuckles his pants and pushes them down with his boxers. He rolls on a condom, still addressing the room with enough confidence that I almost forget this man walked into his first sex club less than an hour ago.

"Most of you must know my Domme. She's a regular here, after all."

I smile into the bed at that.

Look at him. Already claiming his title and settling into the job.

Cocky little shit.

"I've been her submissive since before I knew what the word meant. And I've made it my mission to know her body. So, when I say go, I want you all counting down from ten, because that's exactly how long it's going to take her to squirt."

"Fucking hell," I breathe, because where the hell has this Jackson been hiding? I am loving this side of him way more than is probably healthy for either of us.

"Color?"

"So fucking green I'm going to cry."

He chuckles, and then the plug hums to life inside me, and my lungs forget their one fucking job. Jackson switches on the wand and holds it up for the crowd to see.

"Now!"

He presses it against my clit, and I wail.

The entire room starts counting.

"TEN! NINE! EIGHT!"

Oh, fuck these people.

I can't stop screaming while the numbers keep coming, my whole body shaking against the restraints as Jackson holds everything exactly where he wants it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm aware that this is my club, my stage, my fucking microphone broadcasting every filthy sound coming out of me, and tomorrow I may have to fire everyone who witnessed this.