Good Time(50)

Vince moves to my nightstand, the one with the condom stash and the complimentary packet of lube. Except that’s not a condom in his hand. It’s my eye mask. The one I sometimes use if I’m sleeping late on a weekend and the outside light is too bright as it peeks around the edges of the mini-blinds covering my window. When he slips it over my eyes my heart rate speeds way up. Darkness ups the ante in a very big way. The reduction of sight heightens every sound in the room, my ears eager to identify his slightest movement and what it might mean for me.

The dresser across from my bed creaks, just barely. I imagine that he’s leaned up against it, arms casually crossed while he stares at me spread open on the bed. It’s embarrassing, but it’s hot.

I hear something, the slightest movement a moment before he runs his fingertip down the inside of my thigh. I jump, my legs coming together out of instinct.

“I said not to move. Do I need to tie your legs open, Payton?”

“No.” I shake my head in denial, but I’m not sure why I’m saying no because the idea of him tying my legs open has made me so wet I’m sure he can see it for himself. “I’ll be good.” Maybe. “Goodish,” I qualify because I don’t want to mislead him. Then I let my legs fall open and arch my feet in nervous anticipation. Or is it excited anticipation? Both, most likely. Being restrained makes me feel like his. I wonder if that’s weird or messed up, but I feel it just the same. Like I can let go of all the stress of not knowing where this relationship is going. Because while my hands are tied, it’s all on him to make me feel good and safe and wanted. There’s nothing I can do but accept it, enjoy it. Revel in his touch and attention.

Vince laughs, a low breathy exhale. Then he taps my clit with his fingertip and there’s absolutely no possibility of me holding still. It’s so much more intense when I can’t see what he’s doing. I’m jumpy and wound up and I’m sure I’ve never been this turned on in my life. Vince is between my legs so I can’t do more than squeeze my thighs around him. When his tongue flicks over my clit I’m willing to admit I’ve been too hasty in my analysis of how turned on I am because the bar of my arousal keeps getting raised.

“Please let me come,” I beg.

“You want to come?” Vince’s voice is amused. “You want to come three minutes into this game?”

“Yes, please!” Has it really only been three minutes? “Then we can play Monopoly. Or whatever you want.”

“I wish I’d bought duct tape,” he mutters. Then he licks the inside of my thigh and I think I’m a dripping amount of wet. I buck my hips towards him because really, it’s about the only movement I can make. It’s the only control I have on getting more. More friction, more of his mouth. More of his wicked perfect tongue.

“I don’t want to play a board game tonight, Payton.”

“No?”

“No, I think everything I want to play with is right here.” He runs a hand down my leg, from hip to toe. When he gets to my foot he massages his thumb into my arch. Firm, deep circular strokes followed by a press of his lips before he bends my knee and places my foot back on the bed.

Then he flicks my clit with his finger a moment before pinching my nipple. First one, then the other.

“Please,” I beg. Please don’t stop. Please do that again. Please fuck me until I can’t remember my own name.

When he slides his finger inside of me I say thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m so close, and then his finger is gone but his lips are back. Sucking and nipping and kissing. When his finger, wet with my own fluids, rims my asshole, I flinch. Of course I flinch. But I don’t want him to stop, not in the least. My entire body is humming in sensation and anticipation. When he whispers, “Relax,” I do. Then he works me up to the brink again, but this time I shatter with his finger in my ass and my clit between his teeth. He slips off the blindfold before he kisses me. He tastes like sex and forever.

Then he flips me over, slipping my hands free from the nylon restraint and rubbing my forearms before instructing me to get on all fours. He snags a condom and I want to tell him he doesn’t need to, that I’m on the pill and I’m safe and we’re married, but something holds me back. Because if he’s not interested in coming inside of me it’s really going to ruin the moment and I’m not in the headspace for that.

When he kneels behind me, hands wrapped around my waist, and thrusts deep, I’m not in any headspace at all. He uses my waist to rock me onto him at his desired speed, which is fast. Fast and hard, his fingers digging into my hips as he slams me onto his cock while he thrusts forward with his hips. The sound of our skin slapping echoes in the room, along with me. It’s a lot of me moaning and sighing and begging. I’m not sure what I’m even begging for until he uses my hair to yank me upright and God, does that tug against my scalp nearly make me come again. He continues to drill me from behind, one hand wrapped in my hair as his other snakes around to work my clit. I’m so embarrassingly wet. Messy wet as he slides two fingers between my lips and tweaks my clit until I’m clenching so hard around him I feel like I might break. He pumps into me twice more before I feel him shudder, until the hand in my hair loosens, until I’m facedown on the bed, Vince on top of me, still inside of me, but done.

“Well, fuck.” He brushes my hair out of the way and kisses the back of my neck. I shiver and wonder if I can die from orgasming.