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I want to whine that I don't know what to do, but I also want to please him. On impulse, I rock my hips, and a small moan stutters out of me when it sends a surge of feeling through my lower half. Oh…that was nice.
"That's right, love. I've got you."
His fingers move ever so slightly faster as they rub that small bit between my thighs, and he watches me with such intensity that it sends shivers through me. I rock my hips again…and then again. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm rocking my hips in time with his fingers, making noises in my throat as I chase that building, escalating feeling. My pulse seems to be pounding right over the spot that he's rubbing, and it only adds to the sensations.
"Look at how pretty you are, sweet Iolanthe," Agakor growls, and his words send a thrill straight through me. "This pretty pink cunt all slick and glistening for me. It's just begging for my mouth, isn't it?"
I whimper, rocking harder against his hand. "Close," I manage to choke out. "I'm…I'm close?" Something feels as if it's about to happen. I'm both terrified and excited. My hands claw at the bodice of my dress, tearing into the seams as I try to grip at something. Anything. "Need…something."
"I know. Just keep chasing, love. I'm with you the whole time." He doesn't change his rhythm, just keeps touching me in the same maddening way. "I'm going to keep rubbing this pretty little clit of yours until you come all over my hands, all right? So you take your time. I'll be right here."
For some reason, knowing that I don't have to rush makes me feel…better? I can take as long as I want. I close my eyes, dragging my hands over my breasts, and for some reason, it feels good to grip them. It makes everything happening below my skirts feel that much more intense. I tease a finger over a nipple and my legs tighten, jerking. Agakor makes an encouraging sound, and I remember what he said. Follow that feeling. So I do. I touch my breast and rock against his hand, and it keeps building, and building, the strange, twisty need turning into this hot, wild pleasure. It's like I need more, more, more—
Everything in my body tenses and tightens. I cry out as the pleasure intensifies, and his fingers feel like too much. I jerk, but his hand on my thigh pins me in place, and those big, gentle, slick fingers keep rubbing and rubbing and rubbing and…
I burst. Everything seems to clench up in my body, and bursts. Hot pleasure bursts. The intensity bursts. My control bursts. So much pleasure. It fills me with wonder. This is what they mean when they say they erupt. This is what they mean when they say they explode with bliss. I get it now. A choked sound bursts from my throat, and then a warm, wet liquid bursts from my body below.
Immediately, all the pleasure dries up. Oh, by all the gods. Did I just urinate on him? Horrified, I try to wrestle free from his grip—
But Agakor makes a contented sound and rubs his fingers through that wetness. "Look at how good you are, Iolanthe. That was perfection. How did it feel?"
I swallow hard, a little shy. "Is it…am I supposed to get wet like that?"
He nods, dragging those fingers through my folds. I'm so slick now that it makes wet, squelching sounds, but the awkward, cringing part of me is too dazed with pleasure to pull away, even when he pairs his fingers up and rubs them up and down my cunt, pausing lower and dipping into what must be my womb. "Every woman gets wet slightly differently, but the wetness is good. It means your body is readying you for my cock." He glances up at me. "But not tonight, though. Tonight, you get my mouth only."
"The tasting, right," I manage dreamily. My limbs feel liquid. Tired. I'm sated, and it's a curious, boneless feeling, interrupted only by the slight squirm I make when he touches my clit again. It feels like a lot there, suddenly. Like too much.
Agakor's hand pauses. He rubs my leg, and I dazedly realize he's leaning over me, and one ankle is on his shoulder. "Do you need a moment?"
I nod, breathing hard.
He gently sets my legs down and then climbs onto the bed, lying next to me. He props up on an elbow, his hand on his ear as he gazes down at me. "You're beautiful, you know that?"
I chuckle, because his hand is drifting down to my thigh, as if he can't resist touching me constantly. "I am many things, my lord, but I am not beautiful."
"Anyone who told you that is a fool, and they don't see you like I do." His fingers trail up and down the inside of my thigh, and I find myself spreading them, just a little, because his touch feels good. "I've never seen anything more gorgeous than you coming on my fingers."
