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All the while, his other hand unapologetically slid straight into my underwear, if you could even call it that.
What awaited him there drew a deep groan of approval from him.
I was soaked. Dripping for him.
Without hesitation, he thrust two fingers into me, sliding in easily. The stretch was delicious. He moved in and out relentlessly, his thumb pressing against my clit. Even though it was enough, I still pushed for more, matching his rhythm, grinding against him without a hint of shame. To anyone watching, it might have looked like a lap dance. Not the first one given in this place.
“More,” I begged.
“So fucking greedy.” His whisper tickled my ear, so close I could feel the warmth, despite my body temperature reaching scorching levels.
When he didn’t give me what I wanted right away, impatience surged through me, like an addict craving the high.
I adjusted my angle, seeking steadier ground by grabbing his hip. As the movement shifted my hand slightly left, I brushed against cold metal. At first, I thought it was one of his rings, but when the sensation happened again, an idea sparked. Without a second thought, I reached for the holster strapped to his hip.
The sudden weight shift caught his attention, but even aware of it, he didn’t pause. He kept up the steady rhythm of pleasure, as if nothing had changed.
I was no stranger to weapons, but the gun in my hand felt heavy, no doubt customized to him.
His gun. His problem.
Loaded, I aimed the weapon straight at his manhood, making it clear I wasn’t playing around.
The tip pressed against his hardness as I deliberately slid the gun up and down, tracing its length.
“Now!” I commanded, my voice filled with determination.
Not even a flinch.
I could’ve sworn his cock grew even harder. As I lowered myself, getting a feel, his unhinged expression confirmed my thoughts. Either he was clinically insane, or he was calling my bluff. We didn’t get to find out, because my wish was granted.
A third finger slid in, not allowing me a moment to adjust, keeping up with the rhythm.
My eyes lowered to where we were joined.
The dress was pulled up, wrinkled.
Lace panties peeked out, soaked.
A tattooed hand moving in and out of my greedy pussy.
The gun still dangerously close to the entire scene.
It was a sight to behold. A picture worth taking. A painting worth hanging.
But the image it’d sear in my mind would capture the moment.
Somewhere, in a galaxy far away, people were dancing. Music was playing.
It was all muted in the distance.
His fingers curled inside me, finding the spots that had been begging for attention.
I had a plan to pace myself, to hold off, maybe even edge to build the tension. But when his fingers hit the right spot again, his thumb circling my clit, the sensation overwhelmed me.
Clawing at his thighs, I broke apart.
The orgasm hit me like a shock. Maxim never stopped, prolonging the feeling as I rode the waves that crawled up my spine. The beat of my heart pounded in my ears, an orchestra of my creation.