His eyes gleam. “You’ve been driving me crazy for months,” he says, building onto our role-play.
“It’s only because you’re so stern with me.”
His hands reach for my face. He’s careful with my mask but nothing else. His fingers grip my chin possessively. “Do you know how hard it is to teach you? To watch you play? To look at your hands when all I want is to put mine all over you?”
I gasp. I want to linger in these roles, but the clock is ticking. “No. How hard is it?”
He tugs my face closer to his, inches away. “Impossible. And I could be in trouble if anyone hears us.”
“Then I better be quiet,” I tease. Make me be quiet.
“Really fucking quiet,” he commands, then drops his lips to my neck, moaning like he’s been dying to kiss me there all night. His murmurs and groans make me wet as he travels up my throat. Then, he kisses me. A fierce, hard kiss like he’s claiming me. I shiver from head to toe as his mouth covers mine, as his hand holds my face, as his arm ropes around my waist.
My mystery man takes my kisses like they’re thirsty gulps of water in the desert and he’s parched for me. His thumb strokes my jawline, then travels to my mouth. He breaks the kiss only to press his thumb between my lips.
I shiver. Then suck.
If I thought his groan was feral before, it had nothing on this new sound. Raw, animalistic. A message that he wants me to suck his cock so badly. He’s easy to read. Easier to please as I wrap my lips tighter, draw him deeper, show him what I’d like to do to him.
“Yes, fucking yes. This mouth has made me crazy all night. From the start of our lesson.”
I lift my chin, then with equal parts thrill and nerve, I ask for what I want. “You should make me be quiet now.”
His smile is filthy, his intent filthier as he covers my mouth with his and tugs the silk of my dress higher and higher, till his hand travels under it, then up my thigh.
A pulse beats between my legs, an ache for him. One he eases when his fingers tease at the waistband of my lace panties. He slides his palm down over the fabric, finding the damp panel.
Make that…soaked.
He moans into my mouth, then wrenches away from me. His voice is deep and raspy with desire as he asks, “Did you wear this lace to torture me?”
“I did. Did it work?”
He grabs my hand, slams it against the outline of his hard-on. Thick, eager. My mouth waters for him. “Yeah, it worked,” he says, then he covers my mouth with his palm.
I shudder.
Taking my hand off his dick, he moves us around, pushing me roughly against the shelf. The spines of old books dig into my back as his fingers glide through my slick flesh while his other hand keeps me quiet. Like that, with my sounds captured, he fucks me with his fingers. Thrusting, playing, then sliding his thumb along my pulsing clit.
“You’re so wet for me. Such a naughty girl,” he says as he strokes faster.
I grip his hips to hold on, wordless at his sexy reprimands.
“You need to stop tempting me so much during our lessons,” he continues.
I tremble, my pussy aching.
“Or I’m going to have to make you come again and again and again till you beg me to stop.”
Orgasm torture. Sign me up. My mind goes hazy. My knees wobble. His deft fingers fly. Crowding me, he presses his strong frame to my side, rubbing against my hip.
This man. He’s dry fucking my hip while fucking me with his fingers. “That’s what you do to me,” he rasps in my ear as he strokes maddeningly torturous circles on my clit.
I can’t speak and I love it. I love the game. Love the play. Love the pretend as his mouth travels down my neck. I ride his hand, seeking my pleasure. “Kiss me while you come,” he urges.
I nod fiercely, then rock into his hand as he drops his other palm then slants his mouth to mine, swallowing my cries of pleasure. I shake and shudder, coming hard on this stranger’s hand as we pretend.
I gasp in his arms as he eases out then brings his fingers to his lips, sucking off my taste one finger at a sensual time.
I’m turned on again from the sight of him tasting me. I’m aroused, too, by one dangerous possibility. I grab his wrist, check the time on his watch. “Four minutes,” I say, biting my lip.
“What do you want to do, my naughty girl?”
I drop to my knees.
4
VERY UNGENTLEMANLY
Finn
I don’t want to think. I want to fuck her lush lips.
But I can’t let her kneel on the hard wood floor like that, ruining her costume, hurting her knees. The couch across the room, with the small rug in front of it, is just too far away.
Instead, I whisk off my jacket. “Use this,” I tell her, bending to arrange it on the floor right in front of her.
“Such a gentleman,” she says as she adjusts herself on the material.
“Sometimes, but not always,” I say.
She lifts her chin brazenly. “Show me the ungentlemanly side.”
A fire ignites in me, blazing nearly out of control as I unzip, take out my cock, and rub the head against her lips. “You’re dying for my cock, aren’t you?”
“I thought about your dick while you taught me ‘Für Elise,’” she says, then licks the tip like I’m a decadent piece of candy.
A hot burst of pleasure shoots down my spine. And if she wants ungentlemanly, she’ll get ungentlemanly. “Open wide. Need to fuck that pretty mouth.”
This masked beauty devours my dick with no hesitation, no toying around, just a purposeful awareness of a ticking clock.
She sucks the head, flicking her tongue then drawing me deep. Intense, powerful sucks. Then seductive, teasing licks, all while I indulge in the top-down view of those fantastic tits. “Yes, take it. All the way,” I urge.
She curls her hands around my hips, tugging me closer. Then, I’m holding her masked face in both hands, fucking her mouth, and giving her a warning. “Coming,” I mutter, ready to pull out if she wants that.
But her fingers tighten on my hips and she holds me in place, my pleasure in her hands and mouth, my release in her throat.
I squeeze my eyes shut, the world spiraling away as ecstasy throttles me in its wicked grip.
My legs shake. My hands rope through her hair.
I pant hard for several buzzy seconds, then open my eyes as she’s adjusting her hair and her gold mask. I must have knocked it off when I grabbed her face. But she’s got it back on now, covering her up, and I offer her a hand. She rises, then licks her lips, and smooths the material of her dress as it falls back down around to her ankles. I catch a glimpse of a silver anklet.
It’s almost familiar, like I’ve seen something like it somewhere.
Then, the fabric hides it and she comes in for a quick kiss, that heady scent of her perfume infiltrating my senses once again, and it’s chased by the smell of lilacs. Flowers and sex, and she’s scrambling my head again. “Bye.”
Wait. She’s leaving? Holy shit. Her break is already up. There’s so much I need to say to her.
In seconds, she’s racing to the door.
My mind’s a fog of lust, but I manage to call out a question. “What’s your perfume?”