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My eyes wander a foot upwards as my cheeks turn into a thermonuclear source of energy.
He raises two fingers to beneath my lips. “Spit.”
“What?”
“You heard me, Indigo. Don’t you dare make me repeat myself.”
My mouth suddenly feels like it’s been sucking on the Arizona desert in July.
I don’t know what it is about that order that makes me so shaky, but I muster up some saliva from somewhere, managing to spit some onto his fingers, deciding that might be the least elegant thing I’ve ever done.
“How wet are you?” he asks.
“Do you have to speak so bluntly?”
“You’re inhibited when it comes to sex. I want to remove these blockages from you so that you can better serve me. So that you feel the pleasure you’re designed for.”
My instinct to protest is tempered by the fact that he’s right. I never used to be, but now I’m kind of jumpy about sex, not able to use graphic words to describe it or to feel entirely comfortable being naked in front of a man. I hate the feeling.
I shake my head in exasperation. “Can we limit the truth bombs to when I have all my clothes on, please? It’s harder to give you attitude when my pussy is exposed to the elements like this.”
His expression darkens. “Spread your legs for your man.Now.”
I shift them apart a little, only for his face to morph into a painting called Sin as he lifts his fingers to his chin and spits on them, his saliva mixing with mine.
I begin to breathe faster as he lowers them to between my legs, very delicately parting the labia and running them up and down. Our saliva mixes with my own wetness until after a minute or so of him gliding his fingers around, the flesh between my legs is a tingling, hypersensitive sloppy mess.
When he drops to one knee while ordering me to close my eyes, and spears his tongue into my pussy, pushing apart its tight walls with the strong muscle, my hand presses into the wall at my back as I shiver through his work.
“Holy shit,” I mutter as he begins to lap at my clit while easing one finger inside me, fucking me with it slowly before adding a second. The stretch would normally hurt but the more he licks at my clit with the tip of his tongue, moving in all directions, groaning as he does, the more my pussy relaxes, allowing him to push two thick fingers all the way in.
“Grey,” I breathe.
“Close your eyes. Think of nothing but my tongue on your clit. Feel my fingers pushing inside. Imagine me depositing my cum inside you. I need you to cultivate your need for pleasure.”
Eyes tightly closed, one hand holding my sweater while the other presses into the wall, I concentrate on only him as his talented tongue works so diligently, just as it did on that desk on the island.
As the tip of the strong muscle pushes into my pussy, I find myself gripping his thick brown hair, pulling him into me as the walls of my sex clench and vigor leaks from my legs, leaving them nothing but jelly.
And just as I begin to moan louder and faster, feeling the orgasm as it begins to crest, he cruelly gets to his feet. I open my eyes to find the bottom of his mouth covered in my wetness which he leaves there like some freaking savage, not even wiping it away with his hand.
“Grey,” I mutter again, my body shaking internally as I half-expect him to just lift me up, spread my legs apart and begin to fuck me. “Greyson,” I correct, knowing he wants me to address him that way during sex.
“I might let you come later… if you’re nice and obedient,” he announces before taking hold of the bottom of my sweater and pulling it off me, throwing it to the side. He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra, removing it from my frame. I peer down at my round tits which fall out of my bra cups, my nipples already sharpened into points. Goosebumps scatter across my skin as I suddenly feel extra small, as if standing opposite a giant.
He eases me away from the wall as my trembling legs come closer together. I contemplate getting onto the floor and asking him to fuck me there, seeing as my bones have definitely dissolved.
“Turn around for me,” he instructs severely. “All the way.”
“I can barely stand, never mind turn.”
“Don’t test me, Indigo,” he growls, impenetrable walls going up the more aroused he becomes. “You can give me attitude when your clothes are on. When they’re off, you become my own personal little doll.” His eyes narrow. “My obedient little sub. That’s why you exist. For my pleasure. And whether you like it or not, you’re going to learn to follow my instructions without question. Now turn around for me. I want to look at you.”
Well, get ready to catch me because my legs no longer work.
I lift a shaky foot and manage to plant it back onto the hardwood floor without faceplanting, and then another, slowly turning whilst recovering from the ghost of withheld pleasure still ripping its way through my body.
As I come to stand back in front of him, he studies the lines of my naked body, his expression suddenly softer. I swear to God, this man has two people inside him.
