Trust Me (One Night with Sole Regret 11)

pushed the first button on his remote control.

The small phallus inside her began to churn, and she got a great lesson in how it’s not all about the size, but how he uses it before it began to enlarge—first in girth, until she was moaning at the delicious stretch, and then in length until that enlarged bump she’d first been drawn to hit her in a spot that had her screaming in pleasure. And then the thing began to thrust. While it was still churning. Holy fuck! Melanie gripped the hand holds with all her strength as an intense vaginal orgasm shuddered through her. That was when Gabe decided to turn on the anal stimulation, which sent her soaring even higher. She couldn’t help but rock against the saddle, working against both the ingenuous dildo and the small bead popping in and out of her ass.

“Hold still, baby,” Gabe said, his hand touching her shoulder. “Let it do all the work.”

She tried staying still, but it was instinctual to move.

“Let’s see if this helps,” he said, pushing yet another button.

A hard, oscillating vibration buzzed against her clit and while it didn’t help her fight her instincts to fuck the ingenious machine, it made her body shudder with an instantaneous clitoral orgasm.

“Gabe,” she called, sobbing from the intensity of her pleasure.

“One more, baby,” he said. “I need to make sure full functionality doesn’t overload the system. Do you think you can handle just a little more?”

More? How could there be more?

He unhooked her bra and let it dangle from her arms before he reached for the slender cords hanging from the pommel in front of her. She moaned as he licked her nipple to wet it and carefully attached one clip. She was lost in a second clitoral orgasm when he was repeating the action on her other breast.

Before she could tell him that she believed it was indeed possible to die from too much pleasure, he pushed a button on his remote and a tingle zinged through both nipples, making her insides tighten with breath-stealing rhythmic spasms. The overwhelming force of her release ripped a scream from her throat.

“What in the hell are you doing to her?” Nikki asked from outside the door. “It sounds like she’s dying.”

She was dying. If dying felt like every cell in your body was having an orgasm simultaneously.

“Just trying out a new prototype,” Gabe said. “She’s fine. Tell her you’re fine, Mel.”

“Turn it off,” Melanie cried. “Can’t take . . . another orgasm. Oh God, I think . . .” She came again, not sure how it was possible when she was still coming from nipple stimulation. But all the things going on in her pussy had pushed her over another edge, and the motion in her ass and the vibrations in her clit drove her beyond yet another height.

“We’re going to back you down slowly, babe,” Gabe said. “I’ll turn off the clit massage first.”

“Clit massage?” Nikki was suddenly beside Melanie, trying to see under her thigh.

As soon as the vibration stopped against Melanie’s clit, she found the frame of mind to take a breath. And then another.

“What are these things on your nipples?” Nikki asked, touching Melanie’s breast.

“Nikki,” Gabe said, “I think the lasagna is burning. Let me bring Melanie down, and we’ll show you how it works later.”

“I get to ride it?”

“Well, no, it’s just for Mel, but you can look at it.”

“Look at it? But I wanna—”

“Will you two stop arguing and get me off this thing?” Melanie shouted.

“Does watching her get off on a machine turn you on?” Nikki asked. “You’re pitching quite the tent there, Force.”

“Get out!” Melanie said. She released a sigh of relief when she heard the door close and loosed a second relieved breath when Gabe locked it.

“Should have locked the door earlier,” Gabe said. “Sorry about that. I didn’t think.”

The bead driving her ass crazy popped out one final time, and the tingling stopped in her nipples. Her pussy was mostly numb from all the stimulation, so it took her a minute to realize the dildo inside her had stopped dancing and was slowly decreasing in size.

“She probably thought you were murdering me,” Melanie said, collapsing against the front of the pommel even though doing so pulled at her still-bound legs. “I’m sure I was screaming.”

“Was it hurting you?” Gabe said. “I thought you liked it, but maybe I was reading you wrong.”

“If you thought I liked it, you were definitely wrong. I fucking loved it. I do think I might be permanently maimed, however. I can’t feel my feet.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Gabe said, hurriedly unfastening several buckles.

“Because I was coming too hard to notice at the time.” She whimpered when her leg dropped free and her muscles protested at the sudden movement.

“Maybe I need to rethink the restraints,” he said, hurrying around to her opposite side to release her other leg.

“I’m not sure I could stay on it without them,” she said, pushing herself upright so she was no longer straddling the saddle at an angle. “And you’d have to redesign the clit massager; it wouldn’t be at the right angle. Maybe some sort of cushion to rest my belly against would work better. My muscles feel like jelly.”

“So you like the current angle?” Gabe asked, his gaze searching hers.

She was surprised he wasn’t jotting down notes.

“It’s perfect. The whole thing, perfect.”

He smiled.

“Its inventor?” She rolled her eyes to the heavens. “A fucking genius.”

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled herself off the device. Gabe moved her closer, so that her toes were barely touching the ground and her front was pressed securely against his. She shifted her gaze left and then right when she became aware of something hard pressed into her lower belly. “Is that a drumstick in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

“It’s the one problem with making your woman get off without you.”

She squirmed out of his grasp. “That’s one problem I have the solution to.”

She backed him into the door and yanked open the fly of his jeans before sinking to her knees and doing her best to make Force lose mass with rapidly accelerating friction.

Chapter Eleven

By the time Gabe came to his senses, Melanie’s homemade lasagna dinner was undoubtedly cold. The cook was lying on the floor beside him, staring up at the ceiling. Every ten seconds or so, she’d look over at his invention, get a silly look on her face, and then go back to staring up at the ceiling. He hoped he hadn’t invented himself out of a lover by creating the ultimate pleasure machine.

“We should probably go eat,” he said, tugging his pants up his thighs and fastening them.

“I am hungry,” Melanie said, and rolled over onto her knees, searching the floor for her discarded clothing.

Gabe climbed to his feet and retrieved the articles she couldn’t reach, dropping them beside her so she could dress. Her legs were shaking so bad, she had a hell of a time putting on her panties.

“Need some help?” he asked with a grin. Watching her dress was a simple pleasure he would never deny himself.

“I think what I really need is a nap.” She tipped over onto her back and put her jeans on while lying down. “We need a bed in here. Or you could be a gentleman and carry me to your bed after your machine does its thing.”

“Next time,” he promised, going over to the device to remove the two skins.

“I can clean those,” she said. “As soon as my body remembers how to move when I tell it to, I’ll get right on it.”

“They’re dishwasher safe.”

He had to laugh at her mortified expression.

“You’re not going to put those in the dishwasher next to the supper dishes, are you?”

“I’ll prewash them in the sink,” he said, “but yeah, they should be sanitized in the dishwasher after every use.”

He used his free hand to help her off the floor and waited for her to struggle into her bra and shirt. He supposed he could have helped her, but he found her efforts to dress herself endearing. Like watching a toddler try to figure out socks.

“So can we call the invention a success?” He’d put a lot of thought and years of work into the final product. For whatever reason, he needed her validation.

“A success? Yes, you can call it that. You need to put that thing into mass production tomorrow, so the world can be full of very happy women.”

“You look more zonked out than happy,” he said.

“Trust me, I’m happy. I’m just too disoriented to figure out how to smile.”