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“That’s right.”
He shifts his hips, so his huge cock pushes harder against my ass.
“Cleo... You’re so warm inside... so tight.” His fingers wriggle deeper. I let my legs fall open. I can’t help it. He pushes even deeper as he whispers filth into my ear and glides his thumb over my clit. My body catches fire.
I feel the outline of him pressed against my ass: the long, thick shaft; the plump, round head.
I feel his fingers curl inside me.
“Ahhhhh.” I don’t mean to make a sound, but a moan spills out, turning the air around us into honey.
“You like getting finger-fucked,” he growls. “You love it.”
His thumb glides up and down my slit, then rolls around my swollen clit. I rock my hips, pushing my ass against his hardness.
“What if I rub a little faster... here?” His thumb drags, heavy and slick, over my swollen nub. “What if I quit teasing you,” his low voice whispers, “and try something like this?”
He bends his wrist a little, and I can feel another finger push inside. “I can feel how much I’m stretching you,” he whispers in my ear.
“Oh.” He’s right. I’m full. So full. I feel both paralyzed and electrified. Like I’m gripping a live wire.
He pumps his fingers, shoving them in, then dragging them slowly out. I arch my back. “Oh God, please...”
His thumb, encircling my clit, is deft and slick. I rock mindlessly against him.
“So full...”
He pulls his fingers almost out, the tips of them only just inside... teasing. I clench, wanting him deeper.
“Say my name,” he orders.
“Kellan,” I pant.
All three fingers thrust at once. My pleasure squirts against his expert hand.
“Deeper.” My voice cracks.
He slides out a little. Strokes back in.
His thumb is playing in my moisture, painting my clit. My throbbing clit.
His fingers stroke against my walls, making me dizzy.
“You want my cock inside you. You can’t take much more. You’re so tight, Cleo. So greedy. Look how fat this clit is. Your cunt is so tight around my fingers, I can barely move them.”
He demonstrates, and I groan and arch my back. I’m clutching his arm. Wrapping my feet around his calves. I throw my head back, panting.
“I love you like this. So helpless. I bet you would do anything to keep my fingers inside you. Would you call me Master?”
My mind struggles to think beyond the pleasure in between my legs.
“Call me Master, Cleo.”
I clutch his hand. I’m rocking against him, desperate to feel his fingers deeper. He’s right: I’m so needy I’m about to scream.
He pulls one finger out. His thumb, stroking my clit, freezes in place. He pulls out a second finger, and I bark out, “Master!”
“That’s right.”
