Page 24

“You’re drenched,” he says, taking his hand away. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Yes.” I can’t lie.
When he slowly reaches between my legs again and parts my lips, I cry out a little. He dips his finger into me, and I gasp and move my hips against him so he goes even deeper. I’m silently begging now, and when he pushes even farther inside, I squirm. I pull at his jacket as he pumps me, finger fucking me faster, faster, deeper, until he hits a spot inside of me that makes a violent shower of sparks light the darkness of my mind yet again.
Spinning—my sight, my consciousness—I feel him moving me off his shoulder until he brings me down to my feet, my back against the wall. He has to hold me up with one arm because I can’t stand on my own. With his other hand, he deftly undoes his fly. All the while he looks down at me with those intense blue eyes, his dark brows making him seem so cruel, and I wonder if he sees the part of me that’s asking for more and more—the crazy want, the surprising need, this new addiction that I’ve just discovered with him.
“You’re not getting off that easily,” he says.
God, but I am.
I know that’s not what he means, and fear mixes with stimulation, getting me higher pulse by pulse.
Is he going to really fuck me now? Is this finally the when, how, and where…?
Things are going so fast, and I want them to go faster. I reach down for his cock, but he’s ahead of me, cuffing my wrist with his fingers then pushing my arm over my head so that it’s plastered to the wall. He guides my other arm upward, too, and he binds both of my wrists with that one large, damningly experienced hand.
“Should I give you my cock?” He reaches down behind me with his free hand, urging my hips forward, but not enough so that I’m against his dick. “Should I fuck you right here?”
Before I can plead for him to take me, he coaxes his fingers down from my back and over my ass, then down under my dress and between my thighs. Like a born slut, I part my legs for him as he eases up to tease my drenched slit.
As he strokes me, I moan. The sound of my juices…the erratic rhythm of our breathing... Oh, it’s all too much. But when he pushes his fingers up and into my pussy from the back, I sharply gasp, rising to my toes and arching toward him. At the same time, he lets go of my wrists above my head and reaches down to his cock.
With excruciating laziness, he takes hold of himself and slips his bare tip through my folds, back and forth, teasing me some more. But he doesn’t enter me. His fingers are already inside my pussy, pumping in time to those slow strokes of his cock, getting me going harder, higher… God, he’s torturing me more and more, especially when he rubs his smooth, hard head against my clit.
The electric contact intensifies the feverish buzz I already had going. My blood starts to bubble again as he slips and slides over me, circling the tiny button of pleasure that’s never felt anything like this. That, combined with the way he’s swirling his fingers inside of me from the back, brings me into the darkness again. It’s as if I’m in the middle of a growing eclipse as passion rolls over me and I gyrate, hungry for more. Always more…
I approach a place that threatens to tear me apart…
Pressure rising…
Steam from our chemical attraction brewing…
He pushes his fingers so far up into me that I buck forward, and I feel his cock hit the hand he’s using to bang me.
So close. So fucking close…
“Please…” I whisper.
“Please what?”
His gaze is fully dark now as he lets go of his rock-hard shaft, bracing that hand on my hip, picking up speed and guiding me in a relentless rhythm as he pumps his hips and slides his cock through my folds and finger fucks me at the same time. His tip keeps hitting far enough back so that I can still feel it nudging his fingers as they push in and out of me with increasingly wet, vigorous urgency. I’m sopping, ready for him, gripping his shoulders and desperately urging him on.
“Please,” I whisper. “Fuck me!”
“Do you deserve to be fucked?”
I want to answer yes!, but his fingers are so far in me that they’re prodding my g-spot again. At the same time, his shaft is sliding against my clit, and the combination is pushing me and pushing me…
An orgasm butts against me, threatening, not quite getting there, and I groan in frustrated delight. Then Cage hits both sweet spots again—clit and g-spot—and a flash of destructive light suddenly rips me apart.
One flash…two…like fast lightning…
I feel him come with hot spurts on my pussy and thighs as I finish my own intense orgasm. I cling to his suit jacket once again, my face pressed against his hard chest, his strong, tensed arms holding me up.
Right away I realize that he didn’t climax into me. He held back, and it’s only when I look up to see the veins standing out on his neck that I know how forcefully he fought himself.
He didn’t fuck me for some reason. Punishment?