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He pulls away for a moment. “Spread your legs.”
I do.
“Farther.”
I do, and I’m wobbly on my feet, unstable. If he let go of my arms, I’d probably fall. Which, it dawns on me, is probably the point. His lips brush my ear. “I’m going to touch you now, Emma. I’m going to give you pleasure.” Looking me in the eye, his face goes serious again. “And you do not have permission to come.”
“What?” The word flies from my mouth before I even realize it.
“You may not come until I allow it. End of discussion. And if you speak again, you won’t be permitted to come at all.”
I don’t doubt it. I bite down on my lip to keep the words inside my head. Regardless of what he’s making me do, I need to come. I’ve been too turned on and I think if I had to stop, I might start crying. You never want me to start crying when I’m drunk—I’ll never stop.
Matthew’s free hand trails up my leg, bringing my skirt with it until he reaches my panties and brushes them aside. He tries to hide it, but there’s a short burst of air from him when touches me. “You’re wet for me, and all I’ve done is kiss you. And restrain you,” he grins.
I’m dying to say something, to find a witty comeback, but I keep my lips closed because his fingers are right there, so close to where I want them. His thumb smooths circles around my clit and I gasp because god, that feels good, and it’s been a long time since anyone has touched me. That sweet pleasure is sizzling under my skin and we’ve barely started. I’m guessing we still have ten minutes left, and I’ll probably spontaneously combust before that.
One finger—just one—slides inside me and my body arches away from the wall into him, a reflex I can’t control. God, why is this so amazing? He’s moving slowly, pushing in and out of me, taking his time. His finger curls, stroking that elusive spot just inside that makes my whole body shake. I can feel the beginnings of an orgasm coming together already, and now I know why he has good reason to be confident.
Another finger now, and Matthew is moving faster. I squirm between him and the wall, trying to move closer, do anything that will get me off faster, but between his hands and the way he has me pinned, I’m entirely at his mercy. I close my eyes, sinking into an unfamiliar sensation of blankness. The only thing that is left is the feeling of his fingers teasing me, sending spikes of pleasure through me.
He takes me up and up and up until I’m gasping with need. I’m trying to force my hips down onto his hand faster because I’m so close. Never have I been this desperate to come. I want it—need it—now.
Matthew is watching my face, and I blush because I don’t know that I’ve ever been watched so closely during sex. Or maybe ever. “You’re close,” he says. It’s not a question.
I nod because I don’t think I’d be able to speak; even if he gave me permission.
“Good.” And then he stops. Just freezes with his fingers still inside me, and my building orgasm trips and falls over into nothing. I groan because being that close and losing it makes me ache. I want to ask him why he would do that, but I also want him to fuck me with his hand again, and if I ask him why, I don’t think he will.
“You would have come,” he says simply, as if he can read the questions racing across my brain. “And I’m not ready for that.” Glancing down at his watch he says, “We still have five minutes together.”
This guy isn’t a Dom, he’s a sadist, and I’m calling him all kinds of names in my head that would probably piss him off. He smiles, easing his fingers back into motion and adding another one. That extra finger fills me up and my breath goes short because it feels impossibly, improbably better than before. Matthew captures my mouth with his, mimicking the motion of his fingers with his tongue, and I’m ready to come apart again. I moan against his mouth, but he doesn’t relent.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to hold back an orgasm like this—it’s rising and overwhelming and oh my god I’m so close. Matthew pulls his face back abruptly, never missing a beat with those clever fingers. “I want you to count backwards from thirty,” he says. “Out loud. And when you reach one, you have permission to come. Not before.”
My mouth falls open. He can’t be serious, can he? I won’t make it that long. I can’t. It’s not possible.
“The faster you count, the faster you get to come.”
