He chuckled.
‘Not lubricant, love. Does it sting?’
‘Yes. It’s really hot.’
‘Mm, it looks it. But I should have worn gloves. My palms. Jesus. OK, I think that’s enough.’
He took some lotion wipes from the basket and soothed his hands before continuing. No such precious treatment for my poor scorching bottom, I noticed.
Now that my bum was hot and red, he dug between my thighs, parting them a little, and played with my clit, fingering me until my breath was hectic and my face was burning like my bottom. The mindless need to come overrode everything else and I whined when he stopped abruptly and took something else from the basket. This time it had to be the lube, surely.
But no. This time it was a vibrator with a clitoral stimulator attachment. He pushed it up inside me – it was medium-length and slim, not a monster – and attached it in place with my clit firmly covered and my pussy filled.
‘Oh,’ I said, a little fearfully.
‘Hmm? Do you have something to tell me?’
He was uncapping something – it must be the lube now – and rocking gently on the backs of my thighs. His erection made a sneaky move between my slightly open bottom cheeks and rested there, not quite at the dark entrance it would seek but almost.
The heat on my rear and the fullness at my centre made me feel gorgeously, decadently dirty. I was right for this. I was ripe for it. I was made to be used by him. I began to want it, to really want it. I snuffled into the covers and pushed my bum up.
A trickle, cold at first but soon melting into the same temperature as my body, ran down into that dark valley. Joss’s fingertips coated themselves in it then applied circular pressure to their target. As he pushed and pushed, he switched the vibrator on to a low setting, so that my attention was diffused between the two centres of sensation. It had the desired effect of relaxing my sphincter muscle more than severe focus on it would have done. His forefinger slipped inside, slowly, carefully, but with authority.
‘That’s so good, Lu, you’re doing so well,’ he said, his voice mesmerically low.
I felt my clit, fat and round, my juices slick around the vibrator. It wouldn’t take a lot to push me over the edge.
But he switched off the vibrations now that he had breached me, and I was forced to feel his finger testing me for stretch and depth, then another one joining it. He thrust them slowly, letting me feel each foray to the full, reminding me as he did so that I was good for this, that I needed it, that I should have been getting it regularly since the day we met.
A flutter of curtain made me tense, wondering if somebody was about to draw it and peek inside, but nobody did. All the same, the reminder that we might be observed at any time added a layer of exquisite shame to the experience.
‘Are you ready, darling?’ he whispered into my ear.
I nodded. I wanted it. I wanted to feel him inside me, where no other man had been.
‘Oh, I don’t deserve you,’ he said, then his fingers were out and something thicker and blunter nudged at the evacuated space, stretching me to stinging point.
I whimpered and shuffled my hips, but he held me firm and reached down below to turn the vibrator back on.
‘How’s that?’ he asked, pushing no further but rocking me gently, his hand over the clitoral attachment to keep it in place.
‘Oh, God, I’m so close but it keeps me on edge. The vibrations aren’t quite … getting me there …’
‘Then that’s perfect,’ he said. ‘Concentrate on holding off your orgasm while I …’
He made a sharp stab forwards. I inhaled but kept down the cry I had felt sure would spill out. He’d gone in remarkably easily, the lubricant greasing the way, but now the painful part was coming and I knew it.
I shut my eyes and directed every iota of my attention on to the vibrations, on keeping them down, shutting out the oncoming tide of climax. It boiled at the pit of my stomach, just out of reach, just barely in the safe zone.
He moved forwards, achingly slow, making me feel every tingle, every shooting pain of friction.
‘Oh, I can’t,’ I cried when it seemed that he was just too big and wasn’t designed to fit back there.
‘You can. You’re doing it. You’re almost past the worst.’
He reached down again and twiddled with the base of the vibrator until it was turned to a more powerful setting. I was sure he was keeping himself still at the most uncomfortable point on purpose, and he probably was.
A moment later, he was all the way in, sunk deep in my behind, his balls resting against my hot cheeks. The vibrator throbbed hard and strong and tore a blinding climax out of me, so intense that I forgot I was in a public room and howled while I slapped the bedspread until my palms were sore.