Burn (Songs of Submission #5)(35)

“Yes,” I whispered. “Please.”

He put his tongue on me, and my back arched. He backed off until I calmed, then he licked me again in earnest.

“Fuck!” I shouted, reacting to the gunshot of pleasure in my crotch. He spread me open and lightly ran his tongue over my clit while watching me. His heat ran from my knees to my waist and was about to regroup under his tongue. “I’m going to come unless you stop.”

“Come then,” he said. “Won’t be your last time tonight.” With that, he put his thumb in my cunt and licked my clit in earnest, pressing his second finger on my ass, massaging it without entering it. He was telling me something, and I was listening. He sucked gently on my clit, and a little harder, and a little harder again until he yanked a fast, violent orgasm out of me. I pushed against his mouth, holding the back of his head.

When I was done, he kissed inside my thighs again and worked his way back up to my face.

“Thank you,” I said.

“My pleasure.” He took my hands and pulled them over my head, pressing down with all his weight. “Open your legs for me.”

I did.

“Bend your knees.”

I pulled my legs up as far as I could. He looked deeply into my eyes, nose to nose, and slid his c**k into me. I was sensitive and wet, and I felt as if a lightning rod had been lodged into my pelvis. All fiery sensation, and slow. He moved as if he was underwater.

“How is that?” he asked.

“Like I’m going to come again. I feel everything. Every inch.”

He pushed in, still holding my hands, rocked his hips, then pulled out. He repeated his movements at that pace until a little nugget of frustration built in my belly.

“Faster,” I said. “Can you go faster?”

“You mean like this?” He pulled out and pounded me, slamming against me. Five times. I cried out, reaching the next level of pleasure.

Then he stopped, letting my hands go.

“Exactly like that,” I said.

“No,” he said with a smile. “Can’t. Sorry.”

“Oh, no. Don’t be an ass**le.”

But his smile told me he had every intention of being an ass**le, and worse. The underwater pace continued. I felt like a balloon was opening up inside me, squeezing all pleasure and sensation out, but he just moved on top of me, rocking, kissing my neck, dragging his lips across my cheek, until he gazed into my face.

“I want you to feel me,” he said. “I want you to see this side of me, how I feel about you.”

I touched his face. “I know.”

“Goddess. You’re beautiful. Let me be yours.” His face lost a little of its control, tightening and loosening at the same time.

“You know I love you,” I said.

“Oh, f**k. I’m there.”

“Yes.”

He increased the pace incrementally, but it was all I needed. The balloon expanded, and I came, pushing my hips forward and taking all of him inside me. My orgasm was slow as the f**k. I felt every second of it as the ball of fire moved from the backs of my knees to the base of my spine, collecting around his c**k before it shattered. I kept my hands on his face, feeling the muscles clench as he came. We cried out together, a stream of names and curses and unspellable pulsing vowel sounds. We prayed to whatever god we believed in, because feeling like that meant that there had to be a God, and heaven, and earthly bliss. We rolled onto our sides, still pumping together, emptying the last of our orgasms inside each other.

There was only breathing for a minute after that. He kissed my fingers when I put them near his mouth. I’d wanted him for weeks, yearned for his touch even when he was miles away. Having had him, I could only say I wanted him again.

“I hope you don’t think you’re rolling over and going to sleep,” I said.

“I have promises to keep this evening.”

“Ah, the owning me.”

“Every part of you.”

“When do we start?”

“Give me a minute to change from vanilla guy to kinky guy.”

I rolled on my back and laughed. Vanilla? Jonathan? The thought. He turned and stroked my chest, fingers reaching for a nipple. He fondled it hard, then pinched until it hurt. I gasped, and he twisted it until my face contorted and I breathed through my teeth. Then he let it go. I groaned as the blood rushed back.

“God help me,” I said.

“Go run a bath, goddess.”

I faced him. “Yes, sir.”

The bathroom had been merely functional up until then, and the tub had been of no use to me. Though I’d appreciated its size, the curves of white porcelain should be used for sitting and soaking for hours. It had a control panel with buttons for the temperature and the chrome water jets. I ran it hot, because that was how I liked it. Steam rose and fogged up the mirrors. The hotel had provided some scented tubes. I considered each one and decided on the least flowery.

I took off the garter, dropping it on the floor in a pile of white lace and satin.

“It smells like a bordello in here,” Jonathan said from the doorway.

“Do you hate it? I can start over.”

“No. I like it. I want you relaxed.”

I stood by the tub as it filled, the swirl of arousal between my legs matching his more visible excitement. I didn’t feel relaxed, necessarily. I felt as if I was tiptoeing on the head of a pin.