“I want to hear you come,” he whispers against my mouth.
I couldn’t keep in my noises at this point if I wanted to. I’m panting, moaning, trying to find room in my lungs for oxygen as I gasp for air.
“Don’t stop,” I plead. Lifting a leg to give him better access, I grab the back of his head again, squeezing a handful of his hair so he feels my pleasure with a sting of pain.
“Yes, ma’am.”
When I feel my orgasm coming, I reach down, slamming his hand against me and using his palm pressed tightly to my clit to ride out the sensation. With my head hanging back, his mouth is on my neck as pleasure assaults every nerve ending in my body. It pulses and pulses until I’m left with nothing but tingles and breathlessness.
And as an owner of a sex club, I’m not proud to admit this part, but that was the first orgasm I’ve ever had in public. Even worse, it’s the first one I’ve ever had in the company of another person.
Not that I’m about to tell him that.
But still…it was amazing. Easily, the best of my life.
As I start to come down, his hand still buried in my panties, two fingers stuffed inside me and his mouth near my throat, I smile.
“That was amazing,” he says, his deep voice vibrating against my neck.
“Don’t move for a minute,” I reply, wanting to ease myself down from this moment.
“Yes, ma’am.”
My eyes pop open, not that I can see anything, but I play his words over and over in my head because it sounded too familiar for my comfort. And not just because he’s said it at least five other times in the last fifteen minutes, but because it reminds me of someone else.
I rack my brain for a moment, feeling a little unsettled as he squeezes me closer, clearly not noticing my sudden discomfort.
Where did I just hear that? It was somewhat recent, so I replay the last few days in my memory: moving, unpacking, the party.
Finally, it hits me, and at first, I feel relieved. It was just Beau. He said that to me on the night of my impromptu housewarming.
Still frozen in place, I run through a quick list of facts about my mystery man, searching for at least one that will relieve me of this paranoia and confirm that Beau and my mystery man are two different people. He’s twenty-two. He’s new to kink. He’s local.
But Beau’s at the party. He was at the party when I left.
Although he was late meeting me here.
“Okay, pull out,” I whisper in a rush, and he quickly takes his hand from between my legs.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and the blood drains from my face. When you’re not expecting it, it’s easy to trick your brain into thinking there’s nothing to worry about. But the minute I hear his voice, a voice I’ve listened to all night, I hear exactly who it is.
Shoving my hand over my mouth, I muffle my own ear-piercing scream.
Rule #11: If you’re not good with words, actions will do.
Beau
“What? What’s wrong?” I snap, quickly backing up as if I’ve hurt her somehow.
I can’t say I’ve ever had this response after giving a woman an orgasm. Definitely not what I was going for.
She fumbles along the wall like she’s trying to find something. Without warning, the lights in the room turn on, blinding me as I slam my eyes shut and cover them with my hands.
“Oh no, no, no, no,” she mumbles, and I struggle to peel open my eyes in the now bright room. The moment they adjust, I quickly slam them shut again.
“What the fuck!”