She concentrates on his face and her hand on her pussy instead of giving into her right hand’s yearning to stroke his cock. Also, she pushes against the desire of her lips to kiss him, to feel how his lips would feel against hers. She had nearly discovered this while they were dancing, as their lips were so very close, but then he had backed away, and his eyes were hard as he had whispered, “Not yet.”
Not yet is still holding strong, as Rodrick surely would not allow her to kiss him right now. Also, her lips ache to feel his cock, so that they could find out how his warm, hard flesh would feel against her soft lips, and how he would taste in her hungry mouth. That, too, will have to wait.
“Are you close?” he asks.
“Yes,” comes out in a hoarse whisper.
It’s the first time that Grace has spoken since they’ve arrived in this sumptuous study, rich with masculinity, when Rodrick had told her to “Stand there,” then poured himself a tumbler of Scotch and sat down, cross-legged, on the dark brown leather armchair.
Her “yes” feels like a word spoken while she’s asleep, as if she’s responding to some question in a dream. But this is no dream. Not with the pleasure of her hand on herself, or the warmth of his cock gripped by her other hand, or his soft breathing on her cheek and breasts, or of the snug feel of her high-heeled shoes still encasing her feet, those shoes which she had figured on removing when they had walked from the boardroom to this study, as her feet ached after dancing. But now, she has pushed the feeling in her feet to the side. Other feelings have taken over.
“Good,” he says. “You do not have to wait for me to instruct you to come. You will never have to wait.”
Grace nods slightly, acknowledging this. Those words filter through her strong wall and act as if they really were permission for her to come. Still, she believes him. He would not say this if it were not true. She likes this. As much as she’s enjoyed submitting to his orders, she likes this slice of freedom that is granted to her. With a couple of previous lovers who were quite skilled, she has indulged in multiple orgasms during many evenings. Multiple orgasms are something she greatly looks forward to when sex moves from possibility to reality. And with him, multiple orgasms promise to be a very good possibility. For he is most certainly quite skilled.
As her orgasm nears, her eyes close and her mouth opens wider. Her left hand rubs her clitoris quicker, her juice providing plenty of lubrication for her fingers to move in a blur. Her right hand begs to move, to stroke this strong cock. She finds it very difficult to balance the different actions of her hands. With her left hand, the hot, quick action of masturbation. With her right, the inaction of just being there, staying put on the side when it aches to be out there on the dance floor, twirling around like the left hand. Her right hand burns with jealousy. As do her lips. As do her nipples. Her body outside of her left hand and clitoris rages with envy.
When the orgasm courses through her, gasps burst from her throat. She does not care about these cracks in the wall of her control. Perhaps he would be impressed if she keeps perfectly stoic while the ecstasy electrifies her. Or perhaps disappointment would finally appear on his face. Disappointment in not being able to enjoy the look and sound of her experiencing exquisite pleasure. He seems to be a man who not only enjoys feeling exquisite pleasure, but a man wants to see others enjoy it as well. Not everybody, that is. Just those very special to him. And she hopes she is very special to him. She figures that she is, since she is here in his den. Fingering herself with his dick in her hand.
Finally, it is over. The echoes of pleasure glow in her. Her fingers stop rubbing her clitoris, and they cup her vagina, loving the warmth emanating from it. Her eyes flicker open. His face is unchanged. She wonders if Rodrick had smiled while her eyes had been closed. She likes that idea, of a crack appearing in his wall of control, but only coming out when she hadn’t been paying attention to his face.
“Let go of my cock,” he says.
As she releases him, she immediately misses the feeling of it. She had deeply wanted to do more with his cock, but not touching it at all is worse than not being able to stroke it or suck it.
“Do I have any pre-come on my cock?” he asks.
She checks and finds there indeed is a line of pre-come dangling from the head of his cock. She had not felt it before, and this surprises her. They are standing so close, and she was holding him for … how long? She doesn’t know, and it doesn’t matter. But, still, there is pre-come, a trembling and delicious evidence of his want. She greatly wants to drop to her knees and suck up this long string of pre-come to taste him, and then suck his cock as hard as he would allow.
“Yes,” she says, her voice less hoarse now.
“Collect the pre-come with the palm of your hand,” he says.
Grace does so, starting at the bottom of the string that glints in the dim light of a lamp that was on when they had arrived in the den. The line of pre-come is like a strand in a spider’s web. As more of it collects on her palm, the wetness arouses her even more than she’s already feeling. At the end, she delicately wipes her palm against the slit in the head of his cock, the source of the pre-come.
“Good,” he says. “Now lick it up. Just one lick.”
So now, at least, she will get to taste him. Even though she hungers for so much more. The taste bursts in her mouth. The taste of his desire. Much different than come. Not nearly as strong, pungent. Thrills race through her at this touch and taste of him.
“Put a finger in your pussy,” he says.
She does so, and finds her pussy even wetter than before.
“Put that finger on my lips,” he says.
Tingles tickle her as she pulls her finger out and lays the tip of it on his bottom lip. His lips close around it and suck on it. This flip in the typical situation of the past, where she’s sucked on her lover’s finger to simulate fellatio and turn him on. Now, her lover is sucking on her finger. But it is not unheard of, since a couple of her previous lovers enjoyed the foreplay of tasting her secret juice in a restaurant or car ride or airplane trip.
Rodrick releases her finger.
“Delicious,” he says.
More tingles sparkle inside her, and she adores that a single word from him can inspire this.
to be continued…