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Chapter 11
DARREN
Past
My head swims hearing her plea. And the way she said “Yes, sir.” So natural. So effortless. So goddamn sexy.
Through most of our discussion about how she could make Phuket work, I was thinking to myself why I should bother convincing her. If she doesn’t want to go, it’s no skin off my nose. But now I want her to go. So she’s going, one way or another.
The text I had just received was from Cheryl confirming our contact can get a fake passport made in less than forty-eight hours, and a real one issued within five days for the right bribe.
After putting down my phone, I look over Bridget, lying naked across my dining table, her wrists tied above her to the back of the chair pushed up against the table. I adjust my hard-on, imagining I had a crop right now. I look over all the places I could land the implement: her belly, her thighs, her breasts.
“Please, sir?” she asks when I still haven’t responded.
I smile to myself. She catches on fast. I knew she was smart, and not just because she goes to Berkeley.
Standing at the head of the table where her legs dangle off the edge, I push her thighs apart. One of them bumps into a dish, but nothing spills or falls. I take in the scent of her arousal before positioning myself at her crotch.
“Ah!” she exclaims in surprise when I press my tongue to her clit.
Slowly, I lick the flesh around her swollen bud before teasing it with the tip of my tongue. She releases a wispy moan. Over and over, I taste her, feeling desire throbbing in my groin with each passing second. Gradually, I apply myself to the spot that seems the most receptive at the moment. By the increased urgency in her groans, I can tell her climax is nearing. Her body tenses as she seeks the finish line, which I will let her cross. Just not this second.
Straightening, I shed my clothes.
“Your timing is…impeccable,” she murmurs beneath the pajamas.
“Yeah?”
“I was so close to coming again.”
“Good.” I rip open a condom I had grabbed earlier and roll it onto my cock.
“You have something against me coming?”
“It’s called edging,” I explain.
She doesn’t respond right away. I climb onto the table. I can still smell the scent of her on my lips, which makes my cock pulse with desire.
“How many more times are you going to go through with this edging?” she asks.
“How many more can you take?”
“Zero.”
I chuckle before I brace myself over her body and rub the tip of my shaft along her clit. Her groan is deep and long.
“Please let me come this time,” she pleads.
“How badly do you want to?”
“Really, really bad.”
I agitate my cock faster against her clit, making her writhe and gasp.
“Bad enough to go to Phuket?”
She stills for a second. I let my cock slide down to her opening and press against it. She moans. After pushing a few inches into her and withdrawing, I repeat my question.
