A reward and a punishment. As many orgasms as she can take, but she’s deprived of my touch, my attention. A special kind of torture for a little brat like Aurora.
By the fourth time she comes, her skin has a sheen of sweat, and there are tear tracks down her pretty face. “Mistress, please.”
I make a show of putting my book aside and focusing on her. “Please, what?” She clamps her mouth shut as if she didn’t mean to let those words loose. I raise my brows. “If there’s nothing else…” I click the remote, increasing the tempo.
“Oh, gods.” Aurora’s breath sobs out. “Please don’t make me come like this again.”
There it is.
I have to concentrate to rise slowly, to not rush to her side and do exactly what I’ve been fantasizing about for far too long. She broke first. It’s important to not give over any power in response.
I sift my fingers through her hair and give it a tug. “What do you need? Speak plainly.”
She doesn’t want to. I can see it written across her face. But the seat keeps rocking against her clit, grinding that cock inside her, and she shudders. “Touch me. I need…” She gulps. “I need you. Please, Malone.”
My name on her lips in that agonized tone of voice completely unravels me. I turn the machine off and unstrap her in quick movements. I unfasten the cuffs from the seat but leave them on her wrists. Her legs won’t work properly after being in the position for so long, so I lift her and carry her to the chair I just occupied. “Your arms.”
“They’re fine. I can stay cuffed like this for a long time.”
I should check for myself, but I’m too focused on what comes next. I set her on the chair and sink to my knees between her spread thighs. Her pussy is drenched and swollen from the machine, from coming so many times. I lick my lips. “Next time you come, you do it while screaming my name.”10AuroraThe first drag of Malone’s tongue is agony and heaven, all at the same time. If I could string two thoughts together, I’d be terrified right now. She’s done it again. I am dismantled, a person fractured into a million pieces. The only thing that matters is the way she touches me, what comes next.
My shoulders ache from being cuffed in this position for an extended period of time, but I don’t care. Not with the sight of Malone kneeling between my legs, her elegant hands gripping my thighs to keep me positioned where she wants me.
She’s so strong. Physically. Mentally. She makes me want to crash against her walls again and again, until she breaks… Or I do. I almost welcome the shattering.
Liar.
I crave the shattering.
This is a woman who can outlast me. One who holds herself apart no matter how close she is, no matter what kind of scene we’re participating in. I can’t reach her, and a twisted part of me worships her for it. No other Dominant has been so distant, has made me want them so much. I hate it. I need it.
She parts my pussy with her thumbs and exhales against my clit. “Remember what I said.”
Next time I come, it had better be screaming her name. I swallow hard, and my voice emerges in a croak. “I remember.”
“Good girl.” She closes the last little bit of distance between us and strokes my clit in the exact motion I need to get off. How the hell does she know my body so well already? I don’t understand. It’s something I’ll poke at later, when I’m not on the verge of losing it.
I whimper, but I can’t move with her holding me down like this. The knowledge only drives my need higher. I’m so over-sensitized, pleasure blends into pain and back again. Too much. Not enough. Both at the same time. “Malone, please.”
She hesitates for the barest second and something shifts in her. The careful restraint is gone. She goes after my pussy like she needs this just as much as I do. Her fingers dig into my thighs, forcing my legs wider, forcing me to give her everything.
My body turns weightless for one heartbeat, and then I crash back down to earth, a comet happily free-falling into its inevitable destruction. I think I scream. I can’t be sure. All I can feel is her mouth on me. All I can taste is her name on my lips. “Malone.”
She presses her forehead to my stomach, and I’m dazed enough to wonder if I’m imagining the way her breathing is harsh against my skin. Surely she’s not actually as affected as I am. She isn’t faltering in her path. I shouldn’t be, either.
I hate how weak I am when she touches me.