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I writhed uncontrollably against him.
One of my hands tangled in my own hair to somehow keep my mind intact, while the other made feeble attempts to release his hold. My moan was breathless and when he went even lower, past the ineffective barrier of my thong to slip a finger inside of me, I lost control of myself. Like an animal, my feet left the floor as I started to raise myself higher as he pushed into me. He dipped his finger in and out with maddening slowness. I wanted to scream.
“Relax,” he whispered. “I need you to be very wet to take me inside you.”
Soon, he had increased it to two fingers, which felt like heaven, and made me want to have more. “Brent,” I gasped, my writhing bringing my butt unabashedly against his hardness. I started to quicken at the build-up of ecstasy tearing through me, but just when my eyes were about to roll into my head, he pulled his hand away. My eyes flew open in disappointment. I spun around, barely able to catch my breath. “Why did you stop?”
“I haven’t stopped. I’m just getting you slick and ready. Would you like a drink?”
I shook my head silently and watched as he walked away to the tray of liquor on the mantle. I watched him pour the golden liquid into a crystal tumbler, then head over to one of the armchairs I had fallen asleep on.
“Come here,” he said.
When a few seconds passed and I hadn’t moved, he turned to me.
I did not want to be seated. I wanted him to finish what he had started so we could both get this sorry affair over with and move on. In fact, I felt quite embarrassed at the way I had so shamelessly lost control of myself.
“Come here,” he repeated, but there was a slight edge to his voice.
I was forced to head over to the fireplace. I stood before him, frowning. “Brent, you don’t need all night, do you? Just take what you want so we can go our separate ways.”
As he sipped from the tumbler, he lifted his gaze to mine and watched me. Eventually, he spoke, “I paid for the entire night, not an event. Taking your virginity is only the start, so sit.”
With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I lowered myself onto the chair, and pretended to be very interested in the flames. I could tell that he was watching me, and my body throbbed against my will with excitement.
His hand shot out and touched my thigh.
I turned towards him. It was a mistake. The fire seemed to light up his hair and eyes and it all made him look so deliciously dark and tousled. I wanted him and despised him at the same time for torturing me.
We have all night.
His eyes glowed as he simply looked at me.
For a few moments, there was only the sound of the fire crackling. Then …
“Take off your thong,” he ordered. “Hook your legs over the arms of the chair and open up wide for me.”
Freya
I was sure I hadn’t heard him right, but it was clear from the deathly seriousness in his eyes that I had. I quaked and opened my mouth to refuse outright, but he beat me to it.
“I’m going to remind you one more time that I’m paying for this night. If you no longer wish to continue, then you are free to leave right now … with nothing but what you came with. Otherwise, I will not tolerate your disobedience any longer.”
I held his gaze, and once again, I was taken back to the steel-hearted man I had perceived him as years ago. I knew he meant every word. I had already come this far, and had been immensely lucky that I wasn’t sleeping with some old frog. I squared my shoulders. I would do everything I had to do to get the money, but while I was doing it, I was determined to wring as much pleasure as I possibly could from this night with him.
I took off the thong then I lifted both my legs and let them hang over the arms of the chair. His gaze focused between my thighs on my exposed sex and my clit throbbed with wild excitement.
“Touch yourself,” he instructed, taking his shoes and socks off.
My eyes widened. Surely, he was not going to make me masturbate in front of him.
“Do it like there’s no one else here, but you,” he said to me. “Show me how you’ve kept yourself sane for this long without being fucked.”
I could feel my cheeks burning a bright red, but I ignored it and shut my eyes.
His next command was an aggravated rasp, “Keep your eyes on me!”
My eyelids fluttered open and met his unflinching gaze. In them, I saw raw, primal lust blazing like an out-of-control forest fire. Purposely, I kept my strokes slow and sensual. I wasn’t just pleasuring myself I wanted to titillate him. I wanted to see how much I could affect him. The delicious coaxing made my hips take on a life of their own and writhe in response. My toes curled, my thighs clenched, and my breathing quickened until short spurts of air were all I could take. But I never took my eyes off him.
“Uh,” I moaned, as if I was some porn star and not an inexperienced virgin.
His fists clenched so hard the knuckles gleamed white in the dancing light. I lifted my palm and smacked it hard on my painfully sensitive flesh … just before my finger slipped into my opening.
“Fuck,” he grunted, and sat up straighter on the chair. His control was slipping.
I pushed my finger in and out of me as if I was challenging him. Taunting him. To come get it. The whole scene was turning me on in a way that I could not explain. But then I felt my climax start to build. I forgot about him, my movements frantic as I chased my release. I did what I had never done before: I joined three of my fingers and rammed them in a deliberately vulgar assault on my soaking wet pussy.
