Left Drowning(96)

I drop my hips back down and try to relax into him. But then he puts his hand back where I want it, cupping my * and staying there. He says something that I don’t understand … and I realize that he’s talking about the movie. I don’t even remember the name of this film that he loves so much, but clearly he wants to watch it until it’s over. Which will take another hour, at least. Great. I decide that I better slow myself down, because he is going to make me wait for this interminable hour to pass before he gives me what I want.

But I can wait; I can calm down. I think.

I put my hand in his free one and squeeze tightly. He squeezes back. Finally, he touches one finger to my clit, just for a second, and then takes it away. He does this again. And then again. I try to distract myself, so I don’t scream by counting every time he touches me. He can’t do this forever, right? I get to twenty and give up, letting him do what he’s going to do. Then finally he starts to stroke where I want ever so slowly and gently, and I love this. It’s simultaneously hot and soothing, and he lulls me into a place where I’m not so rushed. Where I just want to stay like this.

He uses his whole hand, brushing against me again and again. His fingers touch everywhere lightly, never staying in one spot for more than a moment. And because he’s obviously trying to drive me insane, he every once in a while laughs at the movie we’re watching. He asks me something about the plot, and I realize I have no response because I can’t pay attention to anything except how he makes me feel.

Finally, unable to stop myself, I lean to the side and turn my mouth up to his and kiss him. God, he’s just a delicious kisser. I can’t get over it. I feel his tongue against mine while we kiss, teasing, and soft, and endless. Then he moves his mouth away and leans back as he takes my nipples between his fingers.

Now he’s done it. Just when he had me in a slow rhythm, my heart rate is back up, and I desperately need him. This drives me crazy, having him play with me like this, rolling my nipples between his fingers, pinching me, pulling… .

“You have to f*ck me, Chris.”

“Not until you’re dripping wet,” he whispers back.

“I am; I promise you.”

“I’ll check.”

He takes a hand out from under my shirt and moves it between my legs. My breathing gets ragged as his finger moves inside me and then pulls back to glide across my clit.

“I told you I was wet,” I say.

So far his hands have moved slowly tonight, as though every goddamn touch has been calculated to keep me below that line where my orgasm starts building, that frustration level just before I’ll scream. So when he takes his finger from me and pushes it deep inside me, I can’t help but groan and push back against him. He pulls out and then slides two fingers in. I dig my hands into his legs as I arch my back.

“Don’t move yet, Blythe. I’m not done checking.”

Now he’s just f*cking with me.

He presses his hand tightly against me and flexes his fingers back and forth a few times, getting me hotter and even more impatient. But then he takes away his hand and moves back up to my breast. “You’re definitely wet,” he tells me. “But you’re not as wet as I want you.”

I groan again. He’s got to be kidding me. I can feel how wet his fingers are as he rubs them across my nipple.

“Besides, the movie’s not over yet.” I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

God, I hate him sometimes. He’s a control freak who gets off on exactly when and how I come, but giving to me is what arouses him. I’m still teaching him that his pleasure is just as important to me. It’s harder for him to surrender to me the way that I do to him. He’s learning, but for now, I’m going to let him play this game.

I’m whimpering, and I check the clock. Fuck. I can do this for another twenty minutes, right? I can take it. Except that his grip on my breasts and my nipples is tighter, a little more urgent. He knows how to give me the mix of pleasure and slight pain that I love, and I can feel him breathing harder in my ear because he loves what he’s doing to me. Chris shifts his hips, and I feel his cock against my body. I close my eyes. I swear to God that I could probably come like this.

One hand goes back where I want it. He starts working my clit between two fingers, and every few seconds he pinches me lightly, tugs a little. I look down. I want to see him do this. I want to watch how he can make me so deliriously turned on.

“You have the best f*cking *,” Chris says. “You know that? You do. And I promise I’m going to make you come so hard.”

This he doesn’t need to tell me, because I know he will. He always does.

“You’re starting to get there, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” God, the sound of his voice is making me squirm, but at least he’s letting me move now.

“You can’t think about anything else now, can you?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“You can’t think about anything else but how it will feel when I make you come.”

“Chris, please …”

“How you’ll tense up, how your whole body will shake, how you’ll say my name. How you’ll beg me to do it again. You can’t stop thinking about it, can you?”

“No.”

“You just need a little more, baby, don’t you?”