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“Umm…” Shame crept into her cheeks, probably turning them an embarrassing shade of guilt red. And yet, she had nothing to be ashamed of.
She gritted her teeth.
“Did you touch yourself?”
“Yes.” She sounded bold. Didn’t feel that way, though.
He sighed and swirled his fingers some more.
She sucked them farther into her mouth and licked between them when he spread them.
Down below, her pussy gave another empty clench. She notched her fingers over a bit from the crotch of her panties and confirmed that what the breeze was cooling was her own arousal.
Tim grabbed her wrist and moved her fingers back into place. “You don’t get to touch again. You had your chance, and now I’ll have mine. Understand?” He pushed his fingers farther back, almost to her gag trigger, but she opened her throat and nodded.
“Good girl.” He kissed her cheek and slipped her fingers out of her mouth. “Tell me. How did you get off? Alone?”
“Yes.”
He slipped one thick finger into her, and her back bowed. He held her still. “I’m glad you were alone. Where were you?”
“At home.”
He pulled the fingers out and grunted. “I gave you my keys. You should have done it at my place. Sat on my pillow and left me a present for when I got home.”
The things that come out of his mouth!
Somehow, she managed not to squirm. And somehow, she managed not to say the first thing that had come to mind: “Why should I have?” Instead, she said, “I was only there to work.” Frustrated, she tried to bear down on his finger, but he moved it out of reach.
“The next time you try to get yourself off when I’m away, you will do that, understand? You’ll straddle one of those expensive pillows and will ground your clit and pussy against it until you come. Promise it and I’ll fuck you with my fingers some more.”
She did have to consider it for a moment. The rational, upright, professional woman part of her brain thought, “Nah. That’s ridiculous,” but the adventurous, sexually voracious submissive part of her brain urged her on. “Once doesn’t make a habit,” her conscience said. And Valerie couldn’t make what they were doing a habit. She’d already broken her own rules by discussing her past willingness to participate in fetish play in the first place.
“I promise,” she said weakly. She wanted his finger working her again. She wanted a release.
“You’ll have to keep one of my keys.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” He pushed his finger back into her along with another and he just held them there.
The dominating invasion was just enough to keep her on edge along with his palm abrading her clit ever so slightly.
“I’d like to see what I’m playing with,” he said.
She wasn’t quite sure the statement was meant to be rhetorical, so she hedged her bets by staying quiet.
“The closet in my room downstairs has a mirrored door. If I put you on my lap there at the edge of the bed, I could see everything all at once. How wet your pussy is for me, how your hand keeps inching over as though you think I can’t see you doing it.”
She tugged her underwear a bit more away from her crotch and huffed quietly. She hated being called out.
“I’d like to see your face when I’m fingering you so I can watch every bit of turmoil and pleasure.” He pulled his hand away from her yet again, and this time slipped his fingers between his lips. “Hmm.”
Oh, God.
She’d had her doubts about country boys. Never again would she think they were as conservative as they often let on.
“Let go of your panties. I need to go steer the boat. You can wait here and get some sun. Or come down and keep me company. Maybe poke around and root through my drawers.”
