Page 28 of Becoming His Mistress

“Just once?”

I nod. “Five years ago.”

“It was bad?”

“It was awful, it lasted one hundred and fifty-three seconds and it was painful and messy and…” I trail off, checking his face for any reaction but he doesn’t give me one. “Are you put off?”

“Not in the slightest, I’m just thinking of all of the creative ways I can make you come before I do.” His smug grin is endearing, and my body relaxes beneath him. “Can I see you naked now?”

Nodding rapidly, I sit up and then stand and close my eyes when he peels my dress over my head and drops it on the floor with his shirt.

I immediately cover my body with my hands, feeling my cheeks heat as he drops his pants and boxers, freeing his angry-looking erection. But sexy angry, not bad angry.

“You have a really nice penis,” I tell him, and he makes it twitch.

Pulling my hands away he steps back, and we just look at each other, though he’s way more comfortable with this than I am.

My nipples are hard from the chill and the excitement, my stomach muscles are clenched because I’m too terrified to relax. I’m probably visibly trembling.

“You’re incredibly sexy,” he tells me sounding awed as he rubbers up. “Why do you hide such beauty from the world?” Before I can reply, he squeezes my breasts with his hands and finishes, “Actually, keep hiding it. I don’t want anybody to see all of this but me.”

I gasp when he takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks.

So that’s what that feels like.

We lie on the bed together with a bit of coaxing from him and I relax into the pillow, covering my face with my hands as he feasts on me like nobody ever has. He kisses every inch of my body, worships ever centimeter, and licks and sucks my clit until I’m a screaming mess, grabbing his hair as my orgasm tears through me.

“Three hundred and nine,” I cry out with it, breathing heavily and writhing as pure bliss starts in my womb and spirals outwards.

He looks up, his lips glossy from my juices, and questions me with his eyes.

“I’ll tell you later,” I reply, and he laughs before continuing his thing down there. He gets me off the same way again at four hundred and ninety-eight and then finally he sinks inside of me with a growl of his own.

It aches, of course it does, it’s an unused organ down there, I’m surprised there aren’t any cobwebs.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he breathes, thrusting against me, pulling out and in just enough to create friction against my already thoroughly used clit. Not that she cares, she’s ready to come again, she just needs him to go a bit faster and harder.

My clit is now a person.

He stops suddenly, his eyes clenched shut.

“Are you okay?” I ask, trailing my fingers up and down his spine.

“Yep, just need a moment.” He presses his lips to mine and kisses me softly. “You are so fucking tight… the last guy didn’t stand a chance, hell, even I’m struggling to control myself.”

His words are probably lies, but I appreciate them all the same.

I shove his chest, forcing him to lie on his back, then I climb on top and guide him inside again.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” I say to him, rotating my hips after forcing him to hold them. “It looks so sexy on TV.” I arch my back and bounce gently up and down.

He bites on the side of his hand, groaning as I move. This is good. I like this. I love seeing his reactions though I’m not sure I’m going to come this way.

He sits up, bringing our chests together and holds me tight around the back.

“FUUUUUCK!” he yells and I feel him pulse inside of me with his orgasm.

I want to not say anything. I really want to not say it. I kiss his neck, hoping that it takes my mind off it enough to not say it.

It’s not to be.

I’m a lost cause.

“Seven hundred and sixteen,” I whisper and his eyes ping open.

“Are you timing me?”

“Not on purpose.”

He laughs and pulls my body onto his so I’m draped over his bare chest. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

I smile at him, glad he’s not offended but I don’t see why he should be, it might not have lasted hours but it was amazing.

“They were the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” I confess, kissing his chest.

“Oh fuck yeah,” he agrees. “Give me five and we’ll go again.”

“Okay,” I say, climbing out of bed and gathering our clothes.

He sits up, gloriously naked, still semi-hard and still smiling. “What are you doing?”

“Hanging up our clothes.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

“Because?”

“I do a lot of things I have to do but can’t explain why.” I pop his pants and shirt onto the same hanger and stick his boxers into his pocket. Then I toss my dress into the laundry hamper and look around, satisfied that I didn’t miss anything.

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