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“Ow!”
“Then don’t lie to me.” He traces his tongue around the shell of my ear, all the while moving inside me. His hand moves down over my tummy, and his finger circles over my clit, firm but gentle. “I think you do like giving up control. Being dominated. Maybe I should tie you down.”
I shiver. “Oh God.”
“I could take hours to tease you to the edge of orgasm, and there would be nothing you could do about it.”
I pull a pillow down and bury my face in it. He laughs and kisses my neck. “I could keep you handcuffed to the bed in my apartment,” he murmurs. “Make you my sex slave. What do you think about that?”
I shake my head, but I can’t reply.
“All day, you’d be lying there, waiting for me to come home.” His hips are speeding up—he’s turning himself on. “And at night I’d do whatever I wanted to you, and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.”
Ohhh… this guy knows exactly what I need. I can feel him holding back, and the thought of the generous, loving Huxley waiting for me makes me want to weep.
“Oh God,” I whisper, as the first ripples spread through me.
Carefully, he withdraws, and my eyes fly open in surprise.
“Four times,” he says silkily.
I groan. “You’re kidding me.”
“I warned you.” He kisses my neck, waiting about ten seconds before he slides inside me again.
Then begins a slow torture session, with him thrusting me each time to the edge of an orgasm before withdrawing and letting the ripples of pleasure die away. Four times he does it, and by the end I’m drawing deep ragged breaths, aching for release.
“Hux…” I beg. “Please.”
He tilts my face up and kisses me. “All right,” he says softly. “Hang on, this is going to be a big one.”
He starts moving with purpose, and I clutch at the pillow as pleasure immediately spirals within me. “Oh God,” I say, “oh—oh—oh,” crying out with each thrust, and he lifts up and leans one hand on the headboard behind me as he moves faster, plunging into me, and that’s it, I can’t hold on any longer. I come hard, and he’s right, it’s a big one, the orgasm powerful enough to make me squeal as I’m overcome with six or seven incredibly powerful pulses that take my breath away.
“Fuck,” Huxley says, and then he groans and comes, his hips pushing forward so he’s so deep inside me, hot and hard as he fills me up.
It feels as if we’re locked forever in the warm darkness, and his hand finds mine on the pillow and he links our fingers, as if we’re drifting together on the sea at night, miles from land, with just each other for company.
It’s only when our climaxes finally release us that he flexes his fingers in mine and exhales in a rush.
“Holy shit,” he says. “I feel as if someone’s used a defibrillator to shock me back to life.”
I can feel his heart racing against my back as he lowers down on top of me. Ooohhh… he’s heavy and his skin’s all hot and sweaty, sticking to mine. I love it.
He moves his hips slowly, still hard inside me. “Just making sure I’ve filled all your nooks and crannies,” he says.
That makes me laugh, and he joins in. “Ouch,” he says, withdrawing and shifting a little to the side, so he’s not lying right on me.
“Serves you right for torturing me,” I murmur, too tired to move.
“Mmm.” He nuzzles my neck. “Tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”
“I didn’t enjoy it.”
“Liar.”
I sigh and hug his arm as he slides it around me. I feel exhausted, in a nice way, limp and loose as if I’ve run on the treadmill for an hour.
He scoops my hair off my neck and runs a finger down it.
