“Good girl,” I tell her, loving that she’s a little off balance like this. Loving even more that she’s leaning into me for support, trusting me to keep her safe. And this time when I take her in my mouth, she watches as I close my teeth gently over her clit. Watches as I stroke my tongue back and forth against the delicate bud. Watches as I press first one finger and then a second one inside of her.
She comes with the second finger, her body clamping around my hand even as her hips rock and jerk against my mouth. I crook my fingers and find her G-spot, then rub over it again and again even as I flick my tongue back and forth against her clit. Drawing out her orgasm. Making her come harder and longer than she ever has for me before.
When it’s finally over, when her body is resting limp and sated against mine, I slowly pull my fingers out from inside of her. And then start all over again.
“It hurts,” she cries out as I force her oversensitive body to take more pleasure. As I push her up, up, up toward a second climax. “Sebastian, please.”
“It’s okay,” I soothe, but I don’t stop. Don’t relinquish the hold I have on her body. I want to take her up again, want to see just how high I can get her this time before she comes. I need this as much as she does, need the mastery and the control over her body, over her orgasms, in a way I haven’t needed anything in a very long time.
When she’s almost there, when her body is rocking against mine and soft, desperate whines are falling from her lips, when I can feel her sex quivering and know that one lick, one stroke, one breath will send her spiraling over the edge again, I pull back completely.
I stop kissing her, stop touching her, stop soothing her as her body continues to jerk and tremble. Instead, I push to my feet. Step back. And then, when she’s just staring at me, looking lost and aroused and so, so beautiful, I turn my back on her. Walk away.
I don’t go far—just to the bar in the corner of the room to get her a glass of water and to give myself a chance to calm down. I’m almost as close to coming as she is, just from touching her. Just from tasting and smelling and hearing her as I went down on her.
“Sebastian?” This time when she says my name, her voice is soft, uncertain. And while there’s a part of me that doesn’t like the fact that I’ve made her feel insecure, there’s another part that relishes it. That wants to control every part of her—body and mind. That wants her every response, no matter how small and inconsequential, to come from me.
“I’m here,” I tell her, crossing back to her and lifting the glass of water to her lips so she can drink as her hands are still tied behind her back.
“Thank you,” she says after she’s done drinking. She smiles at me. This time I don’t smile back.
She looks confused for a moment, but when I roll the cold glass over first one nipple and then the other, she relaxes. Her head falls forward and she watches with languid eyes as her nipples grow tighter and tighter.
Suddenly I pinch one, hard, and she cries out, her knees buckling. She leans forward like she expects me to catch her but I don’t. I let her fall to her knees, though I do make sure it’s more of a slow slide down my body than it is an actual fall.
Once she’s on her knees in front of me, Aria scoots forward, nuzzles her face against my cock. I’m still in my jeans, but I swear I can feel her breath through the thick fabric. God knows, my dick twitches like it can.
“What do you want, Aria?” I ask, forcing myself not to rip at the denim in my desperation to feel her mouth on my dick.
She looks up at me then, and she’s so far under that I’m not even sure she knows how she got onto the floor. Her eyes are wide, her pupils dilated until they cover almost her entire iris. Her mouth is open, her tongue licking at the last remnants of the lipstick she put on hours ago.
“Everything,” she tells me in a soft, breathy voice that is somehow both completely not her and completely her at the same time. And that’s when I know—really know—I’m seeing the core of submissive Aria. All her attitude has been stripped away, all her snappy comebacks and control issues are gone. And in their place is soft, sweet, biddable Aria who wants only to please.
Only to take whatever I want to give her.
It’s not what I anticipated when I started us down this path, not what I ever thought I wanted from her or from myself. But I can’t leave her like this, either, not when she’s this far under. And not when my own control issues are riding me like hell itself tonight.
I reach for the buttons on my jeans, undo them slowly as she watches with dazed and hungry eyes. When all the buttons are undone, I shove my jeans down a little and pull out my cock. Then wrap one hand around it and begin to stroke.
Aria makes a soft sound deep in her throat—whether of protest or arousal, I don’t know. And I don’t honestly care, not when it shoots through me and has every nerve in my body tightening in an agony and ecstasy of need.
Reaching out, I cup her cheek in my hand. Rub my thumb back and forth over her lips, smearing the last of her red lipstick across her mouth so that she looks just a little dirty, a little messed up. And then I’m guiding her forward, sliding my dick along the soft, wet seam of her lips.
She opens eagerly, her tongue darting out to slide over the head of my cock before licking long and slow over its length.
My breath slams out of me as every muscle in my body grows taut with need. I fight for control—over myself, over her—but there is none. Fighting to relax, but that’s impossible as her mouth skims over me. Sparks explode behind my eyes—clean and bright and almost as beautiful as Aria is.
I reach forward, tangle my fingers in her hair. Tug sharply. She hums her approval and the answering vibrations make me quiver as they travel through my cock, down my thighs, over my stomach.
“Aria.” Her name is all I can manage at this point, a guttural groan when what I really want to do is praise her. To tell her how beautiful she is. How much I want and need her. How I’d do anything for her.
But I can’t speak. Not when she’s killing me—softly, slowly, without even a shred of mercy. And even if I could tell her how I feel, I’m not sure I would. Not when words like that, promises like that, make me vulnerable. Not when they take away the control I’m all but desperate for.
Her mouth closes over the tip of my dick, tight and hot and so good that I nearly come right then. I tighten my fingers in her hair, pull her head back as I thrust slow and steady into her mouth, sliding so deep that I can feel her throat constricting around me.
Aria moans then, long and slow, and the vibrations rock me to my very bones. They melt away the last of my resistance, the last of my tenuous hold on control, and I thrust deep into her mouth. Over and over again I pound into her, shoving myself down her throat, making her take more and more of me. Making her take everything I have and more.
And she does. She takes it all, burning me alive with each silky glide of her tongue, each warm pull of her mouth. Again and again I thrust deep, again and again she takes me until I know that if I don’t pull out now I’m going to come before I ever get inside her.