Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
I pushed two fingers into my cunt, gripping down on them at the thought of his cock entering me. It would be so much better than my fingers, so much bigger and deeper. When I returned my fingers to my clit, I felt even emptier than before. I’d never been so turned on, so ready and willing to do anything to get fucked.
I got closer, closer to the edge, almost there, when I remembered what I wasn’t supposed to do. I jerked my hand away and huffed in frustration, gripping the sofa cushion to stop myself from reaching for my orgasm.
“Did you do what you were told?”
Matthew’s voice startled me, and I sat up. He tossed a box onto the coffee table and dropped into the armchair, making no move to touch me. He watched me as I lay there, panting.
“I did.” My voice was suddenly hoarse, and I badly needed a drink of water.
I didn’t need to ask. He stood and went to the bar, retrieving a glass bottle of mineral water. It immediately began to sweat in the heat, condensation rolling off it.
“You sound parched,” he mused. “Don’t get up.”
“I can’t drink laying down,” I rasped.
“I know you can’t.” He knelt beside the couch, and I reached for the bottle, but he drew it back, out of my reach. “Patience.”
Patience? I was thirsty and hot and miserably turned on, and now I was supposed to be patient? The man was a—
Sadist.
He pressed the cold glass to one of my taut nipples, and my body reacted like I’d been shocked with a cattle prod.
“You know you can tell me if you don’t like something,” he said casually, lifting the bottle and repeating the action on my other breast. “You don’t have to go along with anything you don’t like.”
“I wouldn’t go along with anything I don’t like, anyway.” My clit strained and throbbed for attention, but when I moved my hand, he pushed it away.
“I like to give orders,” he went on, dragging the bottle down my stomach. “I like to play games.”
“Lucky you,” I whispered, fully aware of the path the bottle was taking. “I like taking orders and being played with.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. He parted my labia and pressed the neck of the gently sloped bottle against my clit. “Do you like to pretend to struggle? Do you like to beg someone to stop when you don’t mean it?”
“No.” That part always had made me a little nervous. It took a lot more trust than I had in me to make someone think I was in distress, and they should keep going.
“Then all you have to say is no. Or stop. And I’ll know that you mean it.” He rolled the bottle a little and I clamped my thighs together. Then he stood, went back to the chair, and said, “Fuck yourself with that.”
What?
“You’re thirsty. You want water. I’m telling you that you can have it… after you’ve fucked yourself with that bottle.”
I could say no. I could tell him I wasn’t into that. But he sat watching me, lazily stroking his big cock, clearly wondering what I would do in this scenario, how far I would go.
If it had felt like he was trying to test me, to see what he could get me to do for his own gratification, I would have balked at it. But it didn’t seem like that at all. The request came from a place of pure horniness and a desire to revel in it.
And that always made for the funnest kind of sex.
I picked up the bottle and examined it. I’d never heard of the brand, but the glass tapered into a teardrop with a cap atop the slender neck. I ran my thumb over the metal ridges; nothing was sharp, nothing would snag me. I made deliberate eye contact with him and popped my mouth over the top of the bottle, then released it and ran my tongue around it.
“We’ll get to that,” he promised with a grin.
I laughed and sat up, positioning myself against the back of the couch and my feet at the edge of the coffee table. I let my knees fall wide apart, so he could see everything. Then, I pressed the cap of the bottle against my opening and pushed it inside.
The glass was colder than I expected, and the perspiration eased its way. Not that I needed much help; the wetness of my pussy was audible as I withdrew the bottle again, sliding it in further, this time. The gradually sloping shape made it a somewhat ineffective sex toy, but that wasn’t the point. The naughtiness of it was the point, and my performance was rewarded with a hitch in the rise and fall of his chest as his hand sped up on his cock.