The VIP Room(155)

My cheeks flush. They must be bright red. It's certainly none of his business, but, still, I nod.

A bit of spark leaves his eyes. "Turn around."

"But, what does that matter? I want to do this now. I want you."

"I know, gorgeous."

Red again. It's wrong he can make me this nervous with a single word. "I don't want to wait."

"Turn around."

I do.

"Hands on the mirror."

I plant my hands on the mirror, shifting my torso forwards and my ass back and up like it's on display for him.

He drags his fingertips down my back. "You're a very sexy girl."

"Thank you."

"But I'm not going to f*ck you."

I catch my reflection in the mirror. The pout to end all pouts. I rearrange it into something less bratty. "Why?"

"Kat." He drags his fingertips over my ass.

"What if I said your name like that." I adopt my most unaffected voice. "Blake. Blake. Blake."

"Don't do that."

"Blake, Blake, Blake."

His nails dig into my skin. It's a tiny burst of pain, but it feels damn good.

My shoulders relax. His touch gets softer. He drags his fingers over my ass, to my hips, my quads, my inner thighs.

Yes. Almost.

"You need to learn patience," he says.

"You need to f*ck me."

"I'm the one in charge of this." His fingers inch up, up, up.

"Out there, maybe. But not here. It's supposed to be the part that's real."

His nails scrape against my skin. "This is real. Me in control of your pleasure, taking you to the brink of an orgasm then pushing you over the edge. That's real."

I swallow hard. "But what if I don't want to be under your control? What if I want to be in control?"

He runs his hands through my hair and pulls lightly. "There's only one way I'm going to f*ck you, Kat, and that's if I'm in charge." His fingers slide over my neck. "If that isn't something you want, I'll let you get dressed."

"But you already said you're not going to f*ck me." I shift my body so I'm straight, dropping my arms to my sides.

"Not right now." He tugs at my hair again. "But I will tonight. If that's what you want."

My body goes into overdrive. It's pleading for mercy. For the love of all that is right, it's not fair for him to get me so keyed up then insist tonight. Tonight is a million years away.

"I want now," I say.

He presses his lips against my neck. His mouth hovers over my ear. "It's a yes or no question. Do you want me in control?"

Desire passes through me. Yes. God, yes. I want everything about him. "Yes." I nod.

"Come here," he says.

I do. I press my naked body against his completely clothed body. The fabric is rougher than his skin, but it still feels good. I don't even care that I'm exposed. I don't care that he still has all the power.

I drag my fingertips through his hair, pulling his lips into mine. He kisses hard this time. His tongue explores my mouth like it's something of his.

I hook my leg around him, rubbing my body against his. I can feel something through his slacks. He's hard. That must be it.

He's hard. Because of me. I shift against him so I can feel the firmness in his slacks. Something instinctive takes over in my body. I want that part of him. All of it. I want to touch him, taste him, and feel him inside me.

Blake slings his hand under my knee, pulling our bodies closer, so his cock is pressing against my sex. Only the fabric of his slacks is in the way. Pity those slacks exist. They seemed so nice when I saw him this morning, but now I know the truth. They're evil.

He brings his hand down on my ass, a tap at first. Barely hurts at all. I gasp and squeeze the fabric of his shirt.

His lips hover over my ear. "Patience."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll stop."

My breath catches in my throat. That's about the only thing I absolutely couldn't stand. I nod, a promise I'll do as he asks, here, there, anywhere.

As long as he keeps touching me.

"Now turn around. Hands on the mirror."

I do it. Blake moves faster. He positions himself behind me, so his crotch is pressed up against me. His cock is hard against the flesh of my ass. Still those stupid slacks in the way.

I arch my back, so it's closer, so it's hovering right over my sex.

He shakes his head. Tsk tsk. His hands hover over my inner thighs. The look on his face is patient. Like he could wait a million years for me to do as he asks.

A sigh escapes my lips. Half irritated, half desperate. My body is buzzing, shaking. He needs to touch me. Now. I've been his doll for the last three hours. I'm not going to spend the next twenty minutes, fifteen minutes, however long we have, being looked at.

"Please," I say.

Nothing.

Fine. I press my palms into the mirror, undoing the arch in my back. His fingertips brush over my inner thighs. Barely. But it's enough to send a wave of pleasure straight to my sex.

He strokes my thighs a little harder. A little higher. I press my eyes closed, taking in every touch, every breath.

His fingers brush against my clit. Want surges through me. Yes. There. He brings one hand to my chest and toys with my nipples. My back arches, pressing my crotch against his hand. I sigh out all that irritation. There's nothing left inside me but a desperate need to come from his touch.