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I find a spot that’s a little more sensitive and attend to it. A soft groan escapes me. My other hand helps pry apart my labia so that I have unhindered access to my clit. I can do this. I imagine Rafe inside of me. I picture him spanking me. I remember him pounding into me so hard it hurt. I relive how he bent me over his desk and filled me with his cock.
With these thoughts in mind, I come undone.
“Nice,” he says after I’m done shivering and release a long sigh. He curls the bottom of my hood up. “Now taste yourself.”
I put my two fingers into my mouth and suck off the wetness.
“Good girl.”
I don’t know why I like it so much when he says that. Maybe I’ve got daddy issues because I didn’t have one for most of my life.
I hear him get up. He unties my ankles. Grabbing me beneath my thighs, he pulls me down the chair till my butt is at the edge. Pulling my wrists behind the chair, he ties them together with the sash from my robe. Returning to stand in front of me, he lifts my legs into the air. I feel the tip of his cock at my clit. He presses himself against the engorged bud. Being scrunched at the bottom of the chair, despite its thick padding, isn’t exactly comfortable, but I only care about having him inside of me.
After rubbing his hardness along my clit until my pussy flexes for him, he accepts the invitation. He presses into me, and I moan in satisfaction. I relish every inch of him as he sinks in deeper. He tears the hood off me, and I rejoice in the sight of him, his hair falling over his brow, his moon-kissed pecs and abdominals. His pajama pants hang just below his hips, and I can see his pubic hairs curling into mine. I watch as his cock appears and disappears into me.
“Can I come?” I think to ask in advance.
“You’d better.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Bracing an arm againstthe back of the chair, he penetrates me further. I gasp. He both stokes and appeases the ache within me, spreading the heat deeper into my loins. In my position, I’m not able to contribute much to the motions. He’s in charge, which is the way he likes it. And I don’t mind because he always finds the angle or spot that drives me crazy. Even though I’ve already come, I wanted it because I want it with him. And yet there’s that moment when I’m getting close that I hesitate, worried that I can’t withstand the intensity of the orgasm.
He barrels me into my climax and I explode into shivers and cries. I’m sure his bodyguards can hear me. Oh well.
After I’ve managed to settle down from my high, Rafe lets down my legs. He pulls his pants up, but not before I notice that his cock is still hard. Next, he unties my hands, picks me up, and carries me to his bedroom, where he lays me down on the sumptuous sheets of his bed. He starts kissing me all over, from my collar to my breasts to my midsection and my navel, as if he wants to taste every inch of me. Parting my legs, he kisses and licks the flesh there.
“You know you don’t have to,” I tell him. Satiated, I’m okay if he wants to focus solely on his own needs.
“I do what Iwantto do,” he replies before flicking his tongue at my clit.
I don’t protest any further. His mouth feels too good down there. I lay there and luxuriate to his cunnilingus. He takes his time coaxing the embers of my desire back into a flame. When the craving between my thighs returns to full force, he sheds his pants and lays atop me. It’s the basic missionary style, but I love it. I love that I can look into his eyes, love that I’m not pressed into a difficult position, and love that I can participate in the action. Vanilla sex never felt so novel.
We undulate our hips in rhythm, though I’m actually in no hurry to come. I want to remain joined to him as long as I can.
Settling on his arms, he lowers his head to kiss me. I wrap my arms around him to keep him in place and lock my lips to his. This is what I enjoy, even if it doesn’t yield the most intense orgasm. I kiss him with more passion than I want to show, but tonight has the feel of what may be our last, and I don’t want to hold back.
