19. Darcy

Max finally takes pity on me.

I can tell he's pissed off that I've made him wait this long, and I can also tell he's going to make me suffer for it. I don't care, because every second he spends teasing me, edging me, will make my climax more explosive when he grants it to me. There's only one way this evening will end.

His pity comes in the form of my cheeks spread wide by his hands and a soft kiss bestowed upon my pussy. I don't for a second mistake the softness for tenderness. It's a power play, pure and simple. A reminder that he's in charge, that he's setting the pace and the intensity.

‘Fuck,' I whisper as his lips brush my flesh. How typical of Max that the first time he kisses me, it's on my pussy. I suspect that tells me all I need to know about him.

Straight for the fucking jugular, this guy.

He shifts behind me, tapping lightly at my entrance before tracing a line upwards. His fingertip brushes over my little ring of muscle, and it feels like a warning. An omen. Then it's trailing south again, and I shiver at the sensation. It's so laughably short of what I need, but if I focus on what he's giving me, rather than what he's holding back, the pleasure is real.

‘Did you enjoy dancing for me just now?' he murmurs, his hot breath dancing over my swollen flesh.

‘So much.' I wiggle my bottom for emphasis.

‘What did you like about it?' He puts two fingers on me and spreads me wide open.

I wait for his next touch.

He waits for my answer.

‘I—uh—I liked how you were looking at me. It made me feel sexy.'

He laughs a little. ‘There's no question about that. Is that why you like dancing for everyone at Alchemy? The attention?'

‘Yes,' I confess. The slight discomfort I feel being bent over this sofa is nothing to the ache my poor pussy feels at being so near to and yet so far from euphoria. ‘But this is better.'

‘Good. Why?'

‘Because it's just the two of us, so it's more intense. I like dancing for your eyes only.'

‘Fuck, I like that too, sweetheart,' he moans, then rewards me with a single long, hard, heavenly lick. ‘Having you dance for me when I've had to share you with all those fuckers these past few weeks… We can have a lot more fun when I get you all to myself, can't we?'

There's something seriously ominous about the way he says the last line, but the celebratory thumping of my pulse in my pussy drowns out the alarm bells, because I want all the fun with this twisted bastard. I want him to knock himself out on my body. To plunder and pillage and leave me reeling and useless.

He's still holding me open. He pushes two fingers inside, hard, and I let out a strangled cry of pleasure as he presses his mouth to my clit.

‘And when you flaunt these holes at a man, over and over again for weeks, and don't let him touch you,' he growls against my needy flesh, ‘it makes him very, very dangerous.'

‘I want you dangerous,' I slur, and it's true. I want him unleashed. Animalistic. I've certainly pushed him far enough.

‘Good. Because I'm going to push you hard tonight.'

With those magic words, he flicks his tongue over my clit, and I nearly lose my mind. But then he's muttering something unintelligible, and I'm not sure if it's appreciation for how I taste or an admonishment to himself, but my fears of being edged seem unfounded, because he lets me have it, fingers jamming inside me roughly as his taut, flat tongue laves me hard.

He adds a third finger before pulling away from my clit, but before I can protest, he's spitting right between my cheeks and then his other hand is there, one finger prodding and pressing and demanding entry as his tongue finds my clit again, and I can't. I just can't. He's too good.

Jesus Christ.

He was right about working me hard.

He hasn't even got his cock involved yet.