Chapter 9

9

L IZ

The next hour, I find myself in the bathroom.

In the shower, to be exact.

On my knees, with my face tipped up, the back of my head in his grip, my mouth open, and his erection hitting the back of my throat repeatedly.

He watches me with a glint in his eyes while I move my hands up and down and suck on him like he's made of candy.

I love having him in my mouth.

His muscular frame hovers over me, his eyes, which usually are dreamy blue, turning dark from his enlarged pupils.

I love how sure of himself he is.

How clear and transparent all of this is.

We have established a safe space for every little sexual desire we want to fulfill, avoiding the guessing two people not knowing what they want from each other typically bring into the bedroom.

The other thing is, the more time we spend together, the less I feel like an imposter.

That may have to do with him telling me his story.Or a part of it, anyway.

What he said made sense, but it wasn't everything.

Some truth was necessary, but too much information and the whole thing would've collapsed.

We're doing our best, but things are not perfect.

They never are.

Somehow I doubt this was the married man his ex-wife was used to. He must've changed.

I'm no longer my old self, and I've only being with him for a short while.

His eyes finally focus on me. It's like he's been on a journey––just like me right now––and he's back to living in the present.

His hips roll, his cheeks flushed.

There's little light in the bathroom. Purposefully so.

The few dim lights highlight his body, the glimmer in his eyes, his parted lips, and his smug smile.

He likes to see me on my knees.And paying me to do this is as much of a turn on for him as it is for me.

I know him by now. I know when he teeters on the edge. When he is about to blast his load. So I bob my head and rub him harder until a grunt pushes to his lips.

His eyes go blank as he experiences pleasure, and I become a quiet witness, silently in awe.

Who knew I could bring someone so much pleasure?

And who knew it would be someone like him?

LIZ

The next hour finds me in bed, sprawled on my stomach, restrained––my wrists tied at my back––and my face tilted to the side, the view meshed into my soul.

Despite how beautiful the image looks, my brain is busy processing the smorgasbord of delight titillating my senses.

"Please," I beg––and he said I would. "Please let me come."

My rear is up in the air––slightly, just enough so he can enter me to his heart's delight––and a butt plug makes the whole ordeal something to brag about.

It took him a lot of patience, deft fingers, and some lube to bring me to his point, and I have no regrets.

My body quivers every time he slides his hard length into my core.

"With more conviction…" he demands, entertained and unaffected by the tsunami about to sweep through me.

"I beg you…" I say but can't make myself say his name.

Saying his name now would mean something.

And I don't think I could say it without a smidgen of emotion in my voice.

‘I beg you, David,' never leaves my lips.

It would sound like I talked to my husband.

I seemingly can't snap out of that paradigm.And it's the same when he calls me Elizabeth.

It's all in my head.

And like the voice that's constantly yapping in my head, there's nothing I can do about it.

Wet arousal trickles down my legs, the heat making me want his thrusts even more.

"What can I do to make you do it?" I murmur.

"Keep begging."

"You won't do it, though."

He chuckles, still rocking his hips and filling me to the brim.Moving with care, he prolongs my sweet torture.

"Please touch me. Please…"

"Where do you want me to touch you?"

"Please touch my clit."

"I won't touch your clit."

I move my hips in defiance, yet he holds me still, pinning me down.

The need to experience relief only heightens.

"I like it when you're forceful with me."

"I never doubted that."

He holds me still and enters me, but not all the way, and I'm so desperate for him that I moan in frustration, clenching around him.

It would only take his light touch, not even stroking me hard, and I would surely come.

He suspects something's wrong when I go quiet and moves away from me.

"Oh, fucking no," I bark, and his laughter makes me angry. "Please don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere," he says, but he's moving.

The sound of his voice travels around the bed.

He comes to my side and sits next to me, his fist tight around his cock.

"Now beg," he says softly.

I search his eyes.

"You like punishing me. Making me beg for you."

"You like it too."

"Not now… Free my hands, and I will show you how much I like it."

"Not yet."

"Why?"

"I'm not done with you," he says and reaches inside the drawer.

I shift my focus to his hand.

He slides it into the drawer and pulls out a dildo. It's beautiful. Smooth, sleek, a neon color. Not the natural representation of an erect penis.

"You'll love it," he says, and I don't care to ask him how he knows that.

My eyes move from the beautiful sex toy to his eyes.

"You're having fun," I say.

"So are you," he humorously retorts.

First, he slathers some lube on it, although I protest, knowing how wet I am.

"This is different. Trust me. You need the lube."

Again, I don't care to learn more about how he knows all that.

"All right. I believe you. Oh…" I say when he puts the tip of the dildo to my entrance.

"It will be cold in the beginning."

"I know that," I say, and earn a chuckle.

"You know nothing," he says in a soft, tender voice, and I look at him and then at his erection, wondering where that will go. It's pretty obvious, but I still like to wonder.

He slides the dildo in.

Slowly, so it doesn't create pain as my body adjusts to it.

It feels great.

He does what he did to me moments ago, only using the toy.

The idea that he is moving the dildo while stroking his erection next to my face makes me crawl close to him so I can touch his hard–on.

"How does it feel?" he asks, a knowing smile on his lips. "I guess it's good," he adds, noticing how I spread my legs.

It feels amazing, but I won't say a word. Let him bask in uncertainty––although I doubt that will ever happen.

I wrap my lips around the tip of his erection, and his eyes turn heavy, flooded with lust.

"Do that when you're ready," he says.

"I am ready. I've been ready for the past half an hour," I argue, wanting to press my lips against his hardness, take him into my mouth, and have a clear representation of how it would feel to have three men inside me at the same time.

He pushes the dildo deeper, and his gaze dips to the goosebumps rising across my shoulders.

"You are ready," he says and points his erection to my mouth so I can suck on it.

Very little of that actually happens.

The moment my mouth is full, my pleasure soars, and shockwaves spike and fall through me. Before long, his warm release tumbles down my throat.