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Shyly, I slide my finger down. It’s easy to find the little button nestling in the folds, and I sigh as I rub my finger over it. “Yes.”
“Okay, make sure the bullet is coated with lube, and so is all your skin.”
“Mmm… okay…”
“Now slide the tip of the bullet down.”
A moan leaves my lips. “Ohhh…”
“Good girl. Move it around and explore what feels good. No inserting, because that’s not what it’s for. Just stroke it through your skin. Enjoy the way it makes you feel. And when you’re ready, move it to your clit and hold it there.”
Feeling decadent and wicked, and yet also oddly emotional, I do as he says, exploring myself, discovering which parts of me are most sensitive, and what feels nice. Eventually, as he instructed, I bring the tip of the bullet to my clit and hold it there.
“Tell me how it feels,” he says, his voice low and husky.
“It’s amazing,” I admit, sucking my bottom lip, because somehow it heightens the sensitivity all over my body.
“You can use the tip, or lie the bullet down so it’s touching your clit and the area beneath it.”
I try it, sighing as I find he’s right. “That feels so good.”
“Hold it there, baby. And now I want you to bring your other hand up to your breast.”
I follow his directions, sliding my left hand beneath my pajama top to touch my right breast.
“I want you to play with the nipple,” he says. “Tease it while the bullet does the rest.”
Eyes closed, I arch back into the pillows as I arouse myself, lost in the blissful feelings rising in me like bubbles in champagne. “I wish you were here,” I whisper, imagining his mouth on mine, and that it were his fingers moving between my legs.
“Me too, baby girl. I’d be kissing you right now. I’d kiss your sweet mouth, and then I’d kiss down your neck to your breasts and suck each of your nipples until they’re wet and hard.”
Oh Jesus, he’s really trying to kill me with sex. I groan, flicking my nipple, tilting my hips up so I can angle the bullet further down into my folds.
“Then I’d kiss down over your stomach,” he continues, his voice even huskier, “and move between your legs so I could go down on you.”
“Ah, Damon…”
“I want to taste you, Belle. I want to slide my tongue into you and suck that nectar right out of you. I want to slip my fingers inside you and stroke you there while I tease your clit with my tongue, until you cover my hand with your moisture, until you’re so fucking wet that we’re both drowning in it. I’d tongue you until you were filling the room with your moans and crying out my name, clutching the covers, and arching your back. And then I’d suck your clit, and as you come I’d feel it pulsing on my tongue.”
“Oh God…” His words, my fingers, and the sweet buzzing of the bullet are driving me to the edge. I’m so wet… I never thought that would happen. And this time I recognize it—I can feel it building inside me the way it did in the car. Tension beginning deep within me as my muscles start to tighten, an oh-so-wonderful sensation that makes me breathe with deep, ragged gasps as the world around me fades to nothing, and all that exists is Damon’s deep voice in my ear teasing the orgasm out of me.
“Are you going to come for me, baby girl?”
“Ohhh… yes…” I bite my lip as it hits, intense and overwhelming. My muscles inside clench in exquisite pulses, five, six, seven times, and it’s so beautiful and blissful that a sob escapes me.
“Ah,” I hear him say, “sweetheart…”
The pulses die away, and I lift the bullet and turn it off. I blink as tears fill my eyes, and lie there, boneless and exhausted, while the autumn breeze brushes across my hot face.
“Good girl,” he says, and I’m pretty sure he’s smiling.
Chapter Eleven
Damon
The others arrive in the boardroom one by one, James first, then Juliette, then Henry when he finishes his call, and finally Alex, muttering something about his meeting overrunning.
He glances at me, and even though I know my face is carefully blank, he still says, “All right?”
