Captured(55)

And all the while, he’s growing harder and harder in my hand. But I don’t move, don’t dare fondle him, because I’m going to be jealous this time. I want all of that inside me; I want to feel him unleash inside me, and I want to milk every last drop, every spasm. So I just hold him and try to be sane.

Sanity is a losing battle. I’m mewling and growling as he slides two fingers into my opening, then three, f*cking me with them now, in out in out in out in—curl, scraaaaape against my G-spot. I’m writhing up off the ground, into his hand. God, yes, he’s still doing it, that three-finger f*ck, and I’m gyrating against his hand, shamelessly grinding in my quest for orgasm. I’m there, right there. Oh, f*ck, oh, f*ck.

“Yeah, talk to me. Talk dirty. Say all that nasty shit that’s in your pretty head.”

I said that out loud, huh? Okay, then. “God, yes. Yes. Derek, yes. Yes, Derek. Like that. Oh, f*ck. Harder!”

I get it harder. Faster. Three fingers deep inside my *, his knuckles crushing into my ass and my taint, thumb along the inner crease of my thigh, pinky teasing my back entrance.

I’m a virgin there. I wonder if I should tell him?

Not yet.

The edge is there, sudden and massive. I’m riding a wave, f*cking his hand. “I’m coming, Derek! I’m coming!”

And he jerks his hand out and my * clenches, throbs, seizing up in protest. “NO! Fuck, Derek! Please….” Yeah, I’ll beg. Absolutely I’ll beg when I’m that close.

He takes his time sliding down my body, kissing all the way. The edge still looms, but it’s receding, shrinking. Yet I can feel it…deepening. Intensifying. My hands go immediately to his head; my fingers thread into his hair and greedily pull his face to my *.

“Yes, yes, YES!” I’m eager. God, am I eager. “Eat me, Derek.”

“Oh, f*ck, Reagan, I love it when you talk like that. Such a sweet mouth, talking so dirty.” He speaks into my folds, his breath hot on my flesh.

“It wasn’t so sweet when it was on your cock, was it?” Is that my voice, flirty, seductive, playful?

“Yes, god, yes, it was. So sweet. Just like this *. So sweet.”

“Is it really sweet?” I wonder out loud.

He lifts up, slides his middle finger into my *, draws it out. Leans up over me, and I feel his dick bobbing and swaying and brushing against my inner thigh. Oh, just a little higher. But no. Not yet. I’m waiting for him, for how he wants it. I’m waiting for him to take me, to show me what he wants, to give me what I need the way I need it. He hasn’t failed me yet. I’m blinking and breathing and panting and picturing all the ways Derek could take me, and then I feel his finger at my lips, smell myself.

“Taste.”

Instead of obeying him right away, I smear the tip of my middle finger on the tip of his cock, through the leaking pre-come, press my finger to his mouth. “You taste too, then.”

I open my mouth and take his finger in, licking, tasting my essence, musky, a little sour and a little sweet, slightly tangy. He lets my finger past his lips, and his tongue slides between my fingers, and god, is that erotic, us tasting our own juices on each other’s fingers. I remember the way his come tasted, salty, smoky, and thick.

And then he’s back between my thighs, his palms pushing my legs farther apart. I drape my knees over his shoulders and hook one ankle over the other. I’m not letting him go till I come this time.

He starts slow, just a slow circling around my clit. Then faster. And then I’m whining in my throat, and my hips are involuntarily lifting up. At which moment he adjusts tactics, still teasing me, it seems. Parting my folds with his thumbs, spreading my labia open, and driving his stiffened tongue into me. Tongue-f*cking me. Oh, my, oh, my, oh, my. How delicious, how dirty. He shoves his tongue into me, withdraws, does it again. And again. And then the next time, instead of withdrawing, he laps up between my folds and takes my clit in his mouth, and sucks it in, deep, hard. Suckles. Draws it out, stretches the sensitive skin and lets it free with a pop. Tickles it with the tip of his tongue, then begins a new series of long slow fat licks, pressing in hard. This one has me gasping, grinding against his mouth.

“Please don’t stop. I need—”

He pulls his mouth away just long enough to breathe a question. “What? What do you need?”

“Come…please, let me come.”

“What do you say?”

“Please?”

“Nope, not it. You already said please.”

“Fuck, Derek. I can’t—can’t handle games. I’m too close.”

“There it is.”

“Fuck?”

“Yeah, baby. Fuck.”

If that’s the magic word, I’ll say it a bazillion times, as long as he lets me come. “Fuck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck.”

And then he’s kneeling between my thighs, lifting my knees so they’re against my stomach, spreading me apart. Takes my hands one at a time and places them behind my knees. “Hold on like this.”

I’m on my back, a breeze blowing, cooling my bared core, cooling the dampness between my thighs. I hold onto my legs, pull myself open wide. Lift my head and look, watch as he traces a finger ever so carefully down my opening, up, down, teasing, playing, plying my folds. He swipes at me with one finger. Pleaseohpleaseohplease…. Two fingers….