What is it about innocence that makes us think immediately of corruption?
There’s no way she’s a virgin. I know enough about women to be certain of that, but I don’t get the feeling that she does this regularly. The way she shuffled from the bar tells me she’s stepping outside her comfort zone with me.
And knowing that makes me want to make this as good for her as I can. I don’t mean in a sentimental way. This is sex, not making love. I mean that I want to push her as far as I think she can go. I want to challenge her.
What can I do to ensure that what happens between us tonight stays in her memory? I scan the room, a million filthy options passing through my mind. Then my eyes land on the minibar and I know exactly what I’m going to do next.
Little Nicole is going to get what she stepped outside of her comfort zone for.
An orgasm like she’s never felt before.6
NICOLEHe walks away again, opening the minifridge and pulling out a small bottle of whiskey, returning and opening the cap. “What are you going to do?” I ask, remembering the way the same liquor had burned my throat. He takes a sip and leans over me, kissing me and letting some of the whiskey trickle into my mouth. It’s potent, and the heat travels over my lips and gums and then down until it hits my throat. He watches as I swallow, then he takes another sip and bends between my legs. He looks at me with a glint in his eyes as I shake my head.
“Trust me,” he says, “You’ll like it. Hot and cold is the perfect combination.” I wriggle to get away from his whiskey covered tongue, but he holds my knees and then presses it against my clit. I feel the chill of the liquor first, and then as he rasps harder, the heat of the alcohol burning against my clit.
“Oh fuck,” I groan, writhing as he continues to lick, harder and harder. Oh God. It feels so good, but it’s so wrong. I buck my hips, grinding into his mouth, but it isn’t enough. Then his fingers press inside me nudging my G-spot and I come like I’m possessed, shivering against his mouth, pulsing against his cold fingers, moaning so loudly that I don’t recognize the sound of my voice.
“That’s it,” he says, drawing back to watch the way my pussy is pulsating, pulling my labia apart to expose my sensitive clit. I almost come again from that alone. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”
“Oh God,” is all I can get out as I watch him push off his pants and boxers and fist his cock. It’s huge and hard, and he strokes it slowly like he’s calming a dangerous thing that has a mind of its own.
“I’m not finished with you yet.” He begins to undo the bindings, and I stretch out my legs and arms, relaxing and inhaling deeply as the warmth of the orgasm slides through me. That is until he rolls me over. “Give me your hands,” he orders, and I do as he asks, placing them out in front of me. He’s freed me once, and I feel confident that he will free me again. It’s all part of his wicked game, and despite the risks, I want to play.
When my hands are tied, he grabs a pillow and pushes it under my hips, forcing my ass in the air. My face is pressed into the bedcovers, my swollen wet pussy up in the air for his visual pleasure. I can’t see him, but I can hear when he tears a condom wrapper and rolls it over himself. I’m expecting him to fuck me straight away. There is something frenzied in his eyes that shows me how tightly he must be holding himself to remain in control. But instead, he opens the minifridge again. Oh God, what is he going to do now? When he returns, the coolness of the new bottle makes a trail down my spine, and I shiver so violently that my whole body shakes.
My stranger pushes at the small of my back, forcing me to arch my spine. I hear the snap as the lid is twisted off the bottle and then the cool trickle of liquid pouring onto my skin. I hold myself as rigid as I can, even though everything in me is screaming with sensation.
His tongue runs a trail from my hips into the small pool of whiskey, and he drinks from me as though all I am is a vessel at his disposal. He traces the cold bottle over my hips, and I know my skin is breaking out in gooseflesh. I exhale a whoosh of breath I wasn’t aware I was holding, but then the bottle moves to trail between the cheeks of my ass, and I can’t hold myself in control anymore; my hips buck, and my stranger tuts with disapproval.