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He reached into his pocket again and took out something else. It looked like an iPod. He pressed a button.
The little egg in his fingers began to buzz. It was a vibrator.
My mouth went dry as he knelt in front of me. Gently he placed a hand on my chest, above my aching breasts, and pushed me back into the chair's generous cushions. I let him. My knees parted, and he tugged the waistband of my panties. Then, just as he was about to press the bullet into place, he paused.
He looked up at me. In the light from the windows, his green eyes were illuminated and intense. No longer lost, but certain.
“Felicia,” he said, “I want you to listen to me very carefully.” He took a deep breath, and when the words came out, they were clipped and slow and utterly clear:
“You can say no.”
I knew there were such things as safewords, but so far I didn't think, during any of our encounters, I could have brought myself to say no once he touched me. The realization rocked me.
I loo
ked at the vibrator in his hand. Did he mean I could say no to it? Or to the wedding?
Did I want to say no to either?
He leaned down and caught my eye again. “Do you understand?” he asked.
I swallowed and nodded.
He hesitated for moment, obviously waiting for me to tell him to fuck off. When I didn't, he gently placed the vibrator against my clit and replaced the lace panties. Anticipation hummed inside me, and I was already growing wet.
“I thought you didn't want me to wear panties any more,” I said, inanely.
The faint smile returned to his face at last. “Just this one last time,” he said. “There is pleasure in taking them off.”
He helped me up, and then, with warm, gentle hands, he dressed me. There was nothing to be done for my hair, but he tucked a flower behind my ear, and then it was time.
I waited out of sight as Anton stood at the little altar in a tiny chapel. Someone pressed a bouquet of the same gray-purple flowers into my hands, and then the wedding march began to play, and I walked down the aisle. About three steps into it, the vibrator buzzed to life.
I faltered, teetering on the heels, but managed to right myself. Head held high, I approached the altar.
Anton smiled at me, almost proud, and I couldn't help but smile back.
The ceremony passed in a blur. With each response I gave, Anton ratcheted up the power, and the little egg nestled in my slick pussy lips revved higher and higher. The corset kept me from catching my breath. Stars danced across my eyes.
“You may kiss the bride.”
I blinked. What? I wanted to say. No! Wait...
Anton Waters turned to me, and the tiny bullet against my clit kicked into overdrive as he reached out and cradled my head in one large, warm palm.
“Come for me,” he whispered, and, as his lips descended, I did. He swallowed my shrieks as we shared our first kiss before the officiant.
His tongue thrust into my mouth possessively, and my pussy quivered and clenched as I came, melting into his arms. He held me up, kept me from falling, and my hips jerked and twisted of their own accord, arching into him. His erection pressed against my mound, and my orgasm intensified. My fingernails dug into his coat and he swept his tongue against mine, our teeth clicking as died a tiny death in his arms.
At last he pulled away, and the look on his face was fierce, satisfied.
“You are mine,” he said. The vibrator between my legs subsided and I relaxed. Then it ramped up again, carrying me through another wave as we walked back down the aisle, and my knees turned to water as I cried out, embarrassment and ecstasy rubbed together, fast and quick, like fire-starting sticks. If it hadn't been for his strong arm around me, I would have collapsed to the floor.
We signed the certificate. Each time I thought he was done torturing me, he slipped his hand in his pocket and sent me reeling and shaking again. I came as I signed my name, leaving a dark smudge over my middle initial.
Then Anton Waters put his arm around my cinched waist and guided me into his waiting limo.
He didn't even wait for it to pull away from the chapel before he was on me. Stitches ripped as he pushed me down against the seat, his fingers fumbling at the dress he had thought was so important.
