Tease (Songs of Submission #2)(26)

“I’m not made of sugar.” I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice and feared I’d failed.

“Indeed.” He touched my collarbone and drew his finger down, under my dress, pulling it down below my breast. The knit of the straps strained and held as he extracted my nipple. “Shift forward again.” I pushed my hips to the edge of the seat, flinching with pain. He pulled the other side of my dress down and, getting off his seat, kissed the nipple he took out. I groaned and held his head to me. He sucked it hard, then bit on it, and I gasped.

“I want to tie you to the bed in a hundred positions and f**k you everywhere, but I want those bruises to heal first. I want a clean ass to bruise again.”

“I shouldn’t ask this.”

“Then don’t.” He brushed his finger against my nipple.

“I need to know if you’re like this with everyone. All the women.”

He looked in my eyes for a second, silent, then cast his gaze downward. I didn’t know what I wanted him to say, but the curiosity burned me from the inside out.

His fingertips touched my lips, and I opened my mouth for him. “Make these wet,” he said. “You’re going to need it.” He slid two fingers in.

I put my tongue against them, and I felt them rub my tongue and slide down my throat. He pulled them out, then shoved them in again. I sucked hard, trying to get my saliva going.

“Come on, Monica, you can do better.” He slid his fingers in and out of my mouth, hovering just at my lips then pushing them back in. My sore snatch pounded with heat. I wanted him, despite the pain, or because of it.

His fingers were in my mouth up to his hand. My lips curved around them, and I was sucking. He used his fingers to pull my head up until I faced the ceiling, and his fingers f**ked my mouth from above.

“Pull your skirt up. Gently.” I heard the smirk in his voice as he pulled his fingers out then back. I shifted my skirt around my waist.

“Ah, this is gorgeous.” With his free hand, he stroked under the garter at the tops of my legs where the pain wasn’t so bad. “Now spread these beautiful legs.”

A war raged in my pu**y between the pain of soreness and bruising, and the intense fire of need. When I opened my legs, I groaned into his fingers, because I got warmer when exposed to him.

“More, Monica. Don’t be shy.” I moved them out a little more, but my muscles burned. With his free hand, he yanked my legs apart. I gasped with pain and pleasure. He pulled his soaking fingers out of my mouth, and with his left thumb pressed under my chin, he kept me facing the ceiling.

“You don’t want a relationship,” he said. “But you keep asking about other women.” He put his fingers under the crotch of my underwear and stroked my clit. “Why is that?”

“I can’t say.” I didn’t know how I made words instead of just sounds. The pressure between my legs was so distracting.

“Yes, you do.”

“Ah, that’s so good, Jonathan.”

He put his two fingers in my pu**y. They burned all the way in, and I thrust my hips forward. His thumb rubbed my clit, and I went with his rhythm. His left thumb stayed under my chin almost painfully, keeping me from moving freely.

“Yesterday,” he said, “you mentioned something about rumors, and you asked how many women I brought to the club, and now, another question. Do you want to f**k or not?”

God, had I been so childish? “I want to f**k.”

“So what’s your intention? Why do you keep asking?”

“Curiosity.”

He took his fingers out and moved my panties back in place. I thought ok, now he’s going to tease my snatch all night, and let’s face it, I’m going to love it. But he did something that surprised me. I couldn’t see it because he held my chin up, but it felt as if he flicked my clit the way he might flick a crumb off the table, with his thumb and middle finger. His thumbnail hit my engorged clit like a pebble tossed on a water balloon. I felt it as exquisite pain followed by sharp pleasure. I made a vowel sound in my throat, still looking at the ceiling.

“Tell me, Monica. Why so interested?” He flicked me again.

“Oh, Jonathan….” I moaned. Flick. I started to squirm.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

It was gorgeous torture. I had no idea when the flicks were coming, and they were sharp, excruciating, and beautiful. I’d never, ever be able to come even if he did it twenty thousand times.

“If I tell you,” I said, “you tell me everything.”

He flicked me twice in quick succession. I cried out. “No deals,” he said.

“Don’t make me scream,” I said. “Lil will hear.”

“Then talk,” he said, flicking me again.

“Fuck you.”

“Talk, baby,” he said softly, as if cajoling me.

I breathed heavily, feeling the light pressure of his hand on my throat. I could have stopped him. My wrists weren’t bound. I could have pulled his arm away. Honestly, I wanted to tell him. “I want you.”

“And?” He rubbed my snatch over the now wet fabric of my underwear. It soothed the heat but not the arousal.

“I want you all to myself. I want to know what they didn’t do so I can do it. So I can keep you longer.”