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The question surprises him; his eyes flash, his jaw pulses. And I’m so fucking turned on to this game that I fear one more brush over my clit and I’ll be gone, regardless of whether he permits me to come or not.
I hold myself stiff as his hand lowers and he slides his fingers between my thighs, only the slightest touch against my throbbing clit as he coats himself in me, and then he’s back.
‘Lick them clean...’ His voice is gruff, his eyes burning into my lips as he presses his slickened fingers against them ‘Taste yourself.’
I flick my tongue out, separating his fingers in my eagerness as I loop around each and then I take two in whole, sucking along their length and staring into his eyes that tell me exactly how much he enjoys it. His swallow is audible, his groan too.
‘Fuck, Cait, I knew you’d be trouble, always trouble.’
His words penetrate my lust-hazed mind—trouble. Why? If this is just sex, why am I trouble?
But I have no time to think about it further as his hand returns to my pussy and slowly, too bloody slowly, he parts me and slides against my clit, back and forth, back and forth, while I remain still. His lazy pace makes my hips want to roll, my body pleading for release as the ache turns painful, persistent and so bloody desperate.
‘Please,’ I beg him.
‘Shh.’
I almost want to cry—hell, my eyes are pricking. It’s punishing, cruel to keep me in this heightened state. To keep his touch so steady, so measured, so fucking controlled.
He keeps doing it, slipping in and out, in and out, in and out. He doesn’t change the tempo, just keeps going as his eyes stare down into mine, almost daring me to move, to plead.
‘Such a good girl, such a pleasingly, good girl,’ he teases into my eyes. ‘What is it? Are you desperate? Am I driving you crazy?’
I let my eyes do all the talking because, I swear to God, I’m going to come any moment. It doesn’t matter that his rhythm doesn’t alter, that his pressure doesn’t vary; every muscle in my body is drawn up tight as it savours as much as it can, using it to feed the spiralling warmth, the delicious tension.
‘That’s it, baby, can you feel it?’
In. Out. In. Out. Oh, yes.
‘Bet you wish it was my tongue flicking over your clit. My cock buried deep inside your pussy. My teeth tight around your nipple.’
A whimper escapes, a moan, a cry of pleading.
‘Let me come.’ It rushes out of me and he chuckles low in his throat, the sound broken by the heavy doors to the castle swinging shut. I hear voices. A man and a woman’s laugh. I start to lower my arms and Jackson steps forward swiftly, one hand taking hold of my wrists above my head, his other staying buried within me as his body covers me head to toe and the tree shields us from view.
‘Who is it?’ I whisper as footsteps approach, the steady crunch of gravel ringing through the night feeling so much louder than it truly is with the fear of being caught like this.
‘No idea.’ He is so close his mouth brushes against my forehead, his cologne assails my senses, his fingers flex between my thighs, calling me to their presence, the immediacy of what had been my climax. He resumes his intimate caress and my eyes shoot to his in question: Are we doing this? Still?
His answer is a grin so full of daring and I resume my obedience; I do not move against his fingers, I do not speak. I listen to the couple talk, the man’s soft murmur and the woman’s flirtatious laugh. I let the risk rise with the ebb and flow of my own pleasure.
He releases my wrists to cup my chin and drags his thumb over my lips. I want to take it inside my mouth but I daren’t. My arms ache above my head, urging me to lower them, but I daren’t. My body wants me to whimper, wants me to beg, but I daren’t.
My eyes sting more—the denied climax, the crazed battle of wills...it’s too much, all too much.
He slips his thumb inside my open mouth, over my tongue, and drags it out, spreading my saliva over my lips as he watches. And then I feel it, the pressure, the ache, coiling up through my toes, my calves, my thighs, my arse, my pussy and I’m going to come. My eyes widen, I give a tiny shake of my head; I hear a twig snap, so close, too close, the guy’s chuckle—Fuck.
I shake my head more, my eyes pleading into Jackson’s warning him, telling him I can’t stop this.
He shakes his head back at me. No.
I nod and pant, my nails clawing into my hands as I grip them tighter above my head, and I can’t hold on, I can’t—fuck! The explosion inside me is fierce, unrelenting, my body thrashes against his. His mouth crushes mine and I realise I’ve cursed aloud, but hell, I don’t care, I’m delirious on this. On us. It’s still within me, pulsing hot, every wave, sharp, incessant, rolling.
His tongue is fierce as he delves inside my mouth, his head slanting over me as he goes in deep, punishingly deep. I hear the woman smother a giggle, hear their footsteps retreat, but they might as well be as far away as England for all I care.
‘I told you not to come,’ he rasps against my lips. I can hear his displeasure, feel it in the roughness of his kiss. ‘They could have heard you.’
I look up into his blazing gaze. ‘If you were so worried about that you should have stopped.’
