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We never invite others to play with us, though we’ve been propositioned more than once. It’s not going to happen, and wouldn’t even if I wanted it to. As far as Colton is concerned, others can watch us and be jealous, but that’s it.
I don’t want or need anyone else. I have everything right here.
The sounds of his pleasure have the same effect as always. After three months, I still get wet at the slightest touch. Knowing I can make him feel good is a high that goes way beyond anything physical. It makes me proud. It brings me joy.
Knowing others are watching while I do it, though, is what leaves me with no choice but to slide a hand between my legs so I can touch myself. I need relief after at least an hour spent watching others playing around the club. The ultimate foreplay.
“No. Get up.” He pulls me off him by my shoulders, his voice sharp. “You’re saving that pussy for me. Climb up here.” Slouching a little, he gives me space in his lap, reaching for me to straddle him.
“I need to come,” I whisper, raising myself up so he can position himself against me.
“Greedy. You haven’t come enough tonight? You can’t stop at three?”
I have to laugh a little as I lower my body, taking him inside me. The soft groans coming from behind me are nothing compared to what stirs in my chest. Deep satisfaction takes the form of a long, low moan until I settle in at Colton’s base.
As always, there’s a mixture of animalistic lust and tenderness in those gray eyes. “You need to come? Make yourself come, baby. Give us all a show.” His hands on my cheeks, he parts them slightly so the people watching can see him disappearing into me.
Nobody at the office would ever guess this is what we do in our free time. I decided to move to New York to be with him. He’s nothing short of professional, always, with me and everybody else. He might maul me the minute we’re alone, but it never gets in the way of business. That’s part of what’s made him a success at such a young age. He knows how to separate work and play.
And when he plays, he plays hard.
Lucky me, being his playmate. Being his means clearing his head and relieving his tension.
“I love you,” I moan, my head falling back so my long, red locks brush against the small of my back. I love how free he makes me feel. How loved and cherished. How respected and dominated at the same time.
I love how he fills in all my empty spaces and makes me feel complete.
“I love you,” he whispers against my skin between slow, wet kisses over my breasts. “My goddess. My world. Always.”
Then he wraps my hair around his fist and yanks my head back until I gasp. “Now fuck me,” he growls through clenched teeth, and I shudder in response before doing as he says.
Just like I always do and always will.
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