‘Good girl,’ he said. He gave my clit one last prod and took his foot away. ‘That was good. Come and sit with me.’
I hoped that might be a euphemism for ‘come and have wild sex with me’.
I shambled forwards into his waiting arms and curled up on his lap, my head on his shoulder, my thigh pressing into one almighty erection.
He tilted my chin for a kiss, holding the back of my neck while he played on my unsatisfied, pulsing desire. He kissed with unbearable depth and sensuality while my poor pussy begged for some attention.
‘Do you want to come?’ he whispered.
I nodded, burying my face in his neck.
He reached out to the occasional table beside him, on which stood a chinoiserie casket, and plucked out a cellophane square.
Oh, a condom. Everything clenched with excitement. We were going to fuck after all.
He unbuckled his belt, then moved my hand to his crotch, wordlessly instructing me to continue while he dealt with the wrapper.
I worked at the buttons, my face aflame, my eyes directed downward, not daring to look up in case he saw the full force of my desire for him.
‘You understand, Sarah, that if you are my lover, you have to be mine alone?’
I wrenched the fly apart and tried to ease the trousers over Jasper’s behind, with his assistance.
‘That’s fine,’ I muttered.
‘No more Will,’ he elucidated.
‘Oh. God. No.’ I’d forgotten all about him. My greedy fingers reached for the waistband of his boxers. Silk. It was warm from him.
‘I don’t share,’ he said. ‘Not unless I’m in the mood.’
My eyelids flickered upwards, checking his face for signs of casual humour. There weren’t any. He was absolutely focused on me, eyes signalling his intent better than the finger and thumb fidgeting with the condom.
I unveiled his cock. I’d like to say I did it with a flourish, but it was more a guilty, furtive kind of motion. As soon as I saw it, I had this mad craving to bend and kiss it.
He helped me remove the trousers and underwear from shot, leaving them somewhere in the region of his ankles, then he slid the condom over his erection. No kisses yet, or, at least, not of that nature. He pulled me astride him and caught my lips with his, holding me tightly by the shoulders until he broke off.
‘You need to come, don’t you?’ he whispered. Feathery fingers drifted down my spine, then the hand they belonged to stroked my still warm bottom.
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘I think you deserve a little treat,’ he said. ‘But not until I say so.’
I could only blink, uncertain what he might mean by this.
He nudged at my hip, gently directing me towards the tip of his cock. I tried to lower myself, but he held me just a whisker above it, so near, yet so far.
‘What I mean is that you have to ask me for your orgasm, love. No, not ask. Ask isn’t right. Beg for it.’
He smiled, playfully wicked, nuzzling my hair.
‘And you wait for my permission. Can you do that?’
‘I’m … not sure.’
‘Can you try for me?’
‘Yes, Sir.’