that nod along with the moving car.
I didn’t try to get out. I knew that would offend him. He climbed out and rounded the car, opened my door and unbuckled my belt as if I were a child. He took my hand and helped me step down out of the vehicle. ‘Take that rosy-red ass up to the porch,’ he said, finding the key he needed on his ring.
I walked ahead of him, unable to keep myself from putting a little extra swing in my ass as I did. The heat and thumping had toned down just a bit. But not much. My body was still both on alert and utterly relaxed from the fucking. I realised my hands were shaking.
I stepped into the hush of his house and it was just as immaculate as I remembered. And nearly the same. Besides the addition of a new bookshelf and a different coffee table, it was the same.
‘Take your clothes off,’ he said, dropping his keys in a decorative ball on the table by the door.
I didn’t say a word. I pulled my black sweater over my head and unzipped my skirt. I dropped both on the floor.
Michael waved a hand as he moved around getting wine glasses, pouring out wine, turning on a light or two. ‘Those too,’ he said, meaning my bra and panties.
I unhooked the bra and wriggled out of my panties, then I dropped them on the pile.
‘So what will it be? My belt on that already tender ass? A paddle? Some light bondage?’ He chuckled at the term. It had always amused him.
I said nothing. I just stared. The reason being I knew I truly had no say. He was only asking in order to fuck with me. To put me on edge and make me squirm. It was working, but I still didn’t speak.
‘You know where the bedroom is.’
I walked toward the stairs slowly, aware of his eyes on me.
In his room I stood and waited. My entire body wanted to vibrate, to rock me to my very foundation, but I managed to press my thighs together and keep my focus.
Michael walked in, watching me watch him, and began to take his clothes off. His body was just as hard and athletic as I remembered. I craved him. A craving that went bone-deep and rocked me to my core.
When he was nude, cock already standing at attention, he walked to the closet. I knew what he was after. I knew what was in there – his toys – and a fresh rush of moisture graced the tops of my thighs. I smiled at the fact that we were both utterly naked. He never was one for preamble. Once I’d tried to buy frilly lingerie to woo him, but he’d always take a single glance, cock an arrogant eyebrow and say, ‘Lovely. Now take it off.’
He’s a man of simple but exquisite taste. A Zen sex god. Simple is the best way.
He held something behind his back when he came out, and I was filled with a mix of dread and anticipation. He nodded to the bed. ‘Get on. Hands and knees. Eyes closed until I say otherwise.’
I obeyed almost giddily but right beneath the surface, just under my skin, swam a river of fear. The pain is pain until it becomes pleasure, after all. And I was so out of practice I wondered what my tolerance and my limits would be.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll be nice.’ He flashed me a grin that said, ‘You might not want to believe that, sweetie.’
I got on the bed and my nipples grew achingly tight. My hair brushed his pristine white comforter and I felt exposed, gloriously so, with my ass in the air and my pussy on full display. Wanton and swollen and wet … for him.
The bed bowed as he climbed on and I held my breath. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. His fingers entered me, sliding into me so easily I felt myself blush. He swirled them, plunged them deep, swirled again, and all I could focus on was not moving, though I wanted to. I wanted to so badly I feared I’d cry.
Those fingers disappeared and I heard them, wet, very wet, slide against something. His cock? The darkness behind my eyelids turned to a prism of colour. An unfolding of red origami that didn’t actually exist. It faded to blue just as something cold pressed against my back hole. I sucked in a breath and grew tense, though it wasn’t my intention.
‘Do you know what it is?’ His voice was caramelised sugar dripping onto my back.
‘My butt plug.’ I said it with a mix of awe and reverence.
‘That’s right. Yours. It’s been in that velvet box since the last time I saw you.’
‘You kept it.’
‘I did. And sometimes I look at it.’ He pushed the plug and it entered me by millimetres. Then he stopped. ‘I like to look at it because it reminds me of you.’
I exhaled, hanging my head, and he read my body language like a cheap but enjoyable paperback novel. The plug entered me easily then. When I was full, when I was trying to remember to breathe, he tugged back on my hips and ground his pelvis against my ass. The plug had filled up my ass, my thoughts and even my lungs, at least it felt that way. I struggled for air and I made a sound I hadn’t heard myself make in a very long time.
‘I love that sound. That “Please, please, Michael, put me out of my misery and fuck me” sound.’ His fingers dipped back inside me again, triggering my G-spot, making me squirm. It felt good before but now it was an entirely different kind of good. I was tighter because of the plug in my ass. More desperate because we were back here again. In his room, in the silence, doing dirty dirty things and relishing it.
I said nothing. Just made that sound again.
‘I’ll give you what you want but first … you’ll give me what I want. Sit back on your haunches, pet.’
I did as instructed and whimpered as I folded back onto my haunches and the motion ground the plug deeper inside me. He moved to kneel in front of me, stroking his hard cock with one hand. I eyed it hungrily. I’d forgotten how much I loved to suck his cock. That’s a lie. I’d never forgotten, I’d blocked it.
‘I like how your lips part for it before I’ve even told you what to do.’
I bit my lower lip as if that could hide my tell. Nothing could hide my tell, not from Michael. It was a simple fact of being his lover.
He arched his hips slightly and grinned. ‘You may.’
I bent my body towards him, making sure to keep my ass on my haunches. After all, that was his instruction and the pressure I felt was his goal.
I sucked just his cockhead into my mouth at first. Drawing on him. Then swirling my tongue along the silken tip. His hand worked into my hair, tugging just enough to bring tears to my eyes and more moisture pooling between my thighs. My whole body trembled, both from the effort my posture took and my desire to have him inside me. Mouth now, cunt later.
I played my tongue down one side of his cock, came up and sucked the tip, and then played my tongue down the other side. He liked that. I remembered it vividly. Sometimes I dreamed about it. All the while, I kept my hands clasped behind my back. He liked that too. Michael believed cocksucking should be just that – sucking. No hands. Not unless he said so.
I drove my mouth down farther, sucking so my cheeks hollowed out, running my tongue along the thick vein at the back of his cock. His hands were more insistent in my hair, moving my head to his liking as he drove his hips forward. I gagged and my eyes watered but I simply sucked air through my nose. The gagging thing was good for him. He liked it when I gagged. He liked the way my makeup smeared when my eyes watered. And when Michael liked – really liked – how things went, the pleasure he delivered was nearly buckling.
He used my mouth, thrusting deep, holding my head, and I found my Zen and went with it, noticing only that my pussy throbbed as if I could come simply by being a vessel for him to use. The pressure in my ass was gloriously unbearable.
When he pulled free of me, almost violently, I gasped. My mouth reached for him even though he’d backed up. His eyes had gone dark, his face set with grim determination. He took a deep breath and I knew he was steadying himself, letting the urge and the need to come from my