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“Brendon?” I ask. “I need to know…oh…”
He is sucking my nipple through my shirt, causing a wave of sensation to cascade through my body.
“I’m sorry, Mysti,” Brendon says, still hovering over my tit. “Did you say something? Something about what you need?”
He dips his hands under my shirt, massaging and teasing both my tits at once. Against all better judgment, I want to break these handcuffs and sink his cock into my pussy. Consequences be damned.
Truthfully, though, most of the damage was already done last night, so any activities we indulged in today would just be inconsequential.
I doubt Norbert would see it that way.
Norbert.
“Did I see Norbert last night that you know of? Or talk to him?”
“Norbert,” Brendon says and I can hear the disgust in his voice. “Let’s make a deal not to mention that name ever again.”
As if to accentuate his point that Norbert doesn’t belong in our conversation or in this room, he lifts up my shirt and descends on my tits, drawing one into his mouth while teasing the other nipple until it’s hard enough to cut glass.
I lean into him, moving my thighs back and forth creating friction right where I need it at the apex of my legs. A low moan escapes from the back of my throat.
My breathing is increasing, and I can’t help but lean my head back while Brendon alternates between my tits. I silently sing his praises when I feel one of his hands start to move southward.
“Oh, God, that feels good,” I say as his hand ducks under my panties, finding my wet slit.
“I love how wet you are for me,” he says running up and down its length.
I bite my lower lip and spread my legs wider for him. I give in to the feeling for a few moments before I remember what my mission is—to find out information.
I put a foot on Brendon’s chest and push him away, instantly regretting it when his hand leaves the warmth of my pussy.
“You never answered me,” I say, practically panting from raw need.
“Which time,” he laughs, running his hands up and down my thighs. “You know, if you’d just relax and stop asking so many questions, you might enjoy yourself more.”
“Oh, I’m enjoying myself plenty,” I say. My voice sounds as relaxed as it does after my monthly hour-long hot stone massage with Vikrum.
“Think how much fun we could be having though,” he says, working his way back up my legs. His breath is on my thighs.
“Mmm…I’m having fun now, but I need answers too.”
“I think you have all the answers you need, you’re just afraid to accept them.”
“You sound like that Mr. Miyagi guy from the movie.”
Brendon nibbles his way from my inner thigh all the way to the crease at my panty line. He takes a finger and moves the fabric to the side, massaging my waxed mound with his hand.
I arch my back and gently suck in my bottom lip, whimpering ever so softly. When he dips a finger in, I quickly inhale from the sensation. His fingers start a slow, methodical rhythm in and out of my cunt.
Soon my hips match them beat for beat.
“It looks like you’re ready to ride my pole,” Brendon says while continuing to move his fingers in and out of me, “or would that be breaking the law?”
Cursing my brain’s shitty timing, I feel another memory come racing back at me. Luckily, it feels like it’s a juicy one.
