Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
I thought about what Neil would say if he were standing over me. Something to get my attention, like, “No one should be so filthy in a bath,” or some similar cliché, yet insanely hot, quip. And I would gasp and open my eyes, and see him there, feel the sudden, piercing weight of his stare as he took in my form, and I would be utterly helpless.
My fingers sped up, rolling over and over my flesh. Fifteen edges. Fifteen orgasms denied at the last possible moment. Fifteen clenched fists, cramped toes, countless sobs of frustration and joy. I had to do them all and then I had to call him so he could give me permission to finally let go and tumble over.
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered, my other hand gripping the tub beside my head. I pumped my hips in time with my fingers and rose higher, higher…
I thought of Neil’s big hand dipping beneath the water, his fingers brushing mine as I pleasured myself, and I was so close, I had to jerk my hand away, laughing a little at how intense I’d gotten so quickly.
I handled the first five edges in the tub before I forced myself to get out. My knees shook, but as I moved about the bathroom blowing out the candles and drying myself, my arousal dimmed. I was in control enough to get to my sixth edge by tapping my clit with the soft terrycloth towel, though I had to grip the bar for support as I struggled not to come.
Making a little game of it, I considered how to get close to each next edge. I seated myself on the padded bench beside the shower and used a makeup brush to tease myself, whisking the smooth, ticklish hairs over my clit. He’d said no toys, but I didn’t think a blush brush counted as a sex toy. I went out to the dressing room and sat, legs splayed, in front of the mirror to watch my fingers spread my glistening wetness over me. The sense of being exposed and doing something really naughty harkened back to the days of my inventive teenage masturbation. There was a dirty thrill in taking so much time, moving from the bathroom to the closet to the bedroom, making a full event out of exploring my sexuality. It had been a long time since I’d really gotten to know myself in this way; after a summer of stresses that had pushed sex as far from my mind as possible, it was so good to catch up.
By the time I reached number fifteen, I was a sweating, panting mess lying in the center of the bed. When I was close, so close I felt a step from the summit, I pulled away my fingers and held painfully still. Any movement, even breathing too hard, could have triggered my long delayed orgasm. My vulva throbbed, all of my delicate tissues painfully swollen. I dripped onto the duvet beneath me; I should have put a towel down.
When the danger had passed, I reached for the phone on the nightstand. My hands shook, as much from physical tension as from excitement. As Neil’s cell rang, I held my breath, afraid that I might come just from hearing his voice.
“Hello, Sophie,” he answered cheerfully. “Is there something you need?”
A gasped laugh tore from my throat, hoarse from my moans and hisses at the denial. “Please, Sir. Can I come?”
“I don’t see why not. I’m all alone here.” The cocky half-smile that matched his tone would be on his face, I was sure of it. “But first, let’s make sure you followed my instructions. Are you wet?”
“Are you kidding?” I snapped.
He clucked his tongue. “I could always just deny you, you know.”
“I could always just come anyway!” I was mindless with desire, and though I knew my Sir didn’t like bratty subs, I couldn’t imagine any punishment he could come up with that would be worse than withholding release now.
His voice lowered to that dark, silkily stern tone that set every inch of my skin tickling. “If you did, I would tie you down and make sure you got your fill, and then some. You wouldn’t want to come again for a year.”
He would, too. He loved torturing me with orgasms, making me come over and over until I begged him to stop. If he did something like that tonight, after all the torment I’d already been through today, I wasn’t sure I would be able to last five minutes without safewording.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“That’s better.” Something thumped in the background, maybe a file cabinet door closing. It was a bit off-putting to know that my climax was being multi-tasked. “Put the phone near your cunt and touch yourself, so I can hear it.”
A hot flush burned in my face and across my chest, and I giggled in embarrassment. “You want to talk to my cunt, Sir?”