“Can I use your body?” I ask him.
He cocks open one eye. “You can try whatever the fuck you want. Good luck getting me hard again. I’m fucking spent. Unlike some people, I showed up for rehearsal tonight.”
He rolls away from me and I wish I had an ax to kill him. I roll onto my stomach, but simply pressing my erect nipples into the mattress is too much to bear. I scream, muffled into my pillow.
Then, with the ease of a trained dancer, I wiggle myself flush with him and roll on top, straddling. I grind my tender and aroused pussy into the back of his thigh. It doesn’t do much except perhaps drive my frustration to the brink of utter madness. His silken pajamas are too slippery, and my effort is thwarted. He chuckles smugly into his pillow.
“I hate you, Dashiell. I wish I’d never met you,” I spit.
He rolls onto his back and I try again, this time putting my center over his knee and attempting to create fiction between my clit and his knee bone to no avail. Tears stream down my face in frustration, but I refuse to give up. I could straddle his face, but if he doesn’t move, I might suffocate him.
I lower myself by flopping like a seal until my face is next to his elastic waistband. I have to remove his pants with my teeth and the effort is taxing. But finally, I get them down to mid-thigh and I’m rewarded with his flaccid but beautiful penis. No rest for the weary.
I start by gently licking his balls and then eventually sucking them into my mouth. Dash begins to stir, and sure enough, his cock starts to engorge. I lick his shaft, taking my time to get to the head and sucking it into my mouth. I tease my tongue along every edge, sucking more and more forcefully until he’s hard as steel and fully erect in my mouth. Then, using my shoulder and legs, I push myself up the bed again, roll on top of him and try to slide his cock inside me.
Dashiell wears a huge shit-eating grin but keeps his eyes closed. I’m too wet, and without hands, his cock won’t obey. It slides every which way besides going inside me. Sitting upright, I straddle him. I bend back into a full arch until my bound hands reach his cock, and I finally guide him in. The camber back has always been my strong suit.
It feels so good, so rewarding that I make an ungodly amount of noise. Enough for his mother and everyone else in the building to know how fucking good it feels to finally have his gorgeously thick cock inside me. I ride him like a woman possessed, my tits bouncing, our bodies making slapping sounds. Dash lies perfectly still, resting his hands behind his head, arms bent at the elbows like he’s getting a suntan.
He’s almost too deep inside me, too big and thick and long, but I don’t care if I break my body trying to get off. I don’t care if he makes me crawl on the floor and beg for it. I chase the orgasm like it’s my only salvation in this world. And when I come, it’s so hard that I fear the walls will come crashing down with me. I keen and moan, shake and grind myself into his pelvis with his engorged cock fully seated to the hilt inside me.
“Oh my god, Dash! Oh my fucking god!”
When the wave of absolute pleasure washes over me, I feel Dashiell unload his hot semen inside me. He bucks up and his stomach cinches in a cut washboard as he comes in bursts. My muscles clench and milk him, greedy for every last drop of his cum. I cannot get enough.
I contract a few times as the aftershocks take hold of me before collapsing completely on his chest like a ragdoll, hands still bound behind me.
My arms ache and my wrists are chafed, but I say nothing, riding his chest up and down as the exertion leaves our bodies. Without a word, Dash opens the top drawer on his nightstand, pulls out a key, and with an almost imperceptible twist, releases me from submission.
I bring my ruined arms up, which feel like they’re floating, wrap them around his neck, and fall sound asleep, happily nestled in his shoulder.
Chapter Thirty
Dashiell
Right before Taye fell asleep last night, I made her sign the contract relinquishing all control of her dance career to me. Wait until Katerina finds out. What will she do without her life’s precious project? I can’t wait to watch her bitterly fade into absolute obscurity or, equally as plausible, go out with a bang as she self-destructs.
I snap a photo of Taye’s foot—not as mauled as most dancers—sticking out of my comforter. She sleeps soundly tangled in my bedsheets, looking peaceful. The tennis bracelet encircles her delicate ankle and it angers me momentarily that she’s as thin as she is. I decide to fatten her up. Katerina will see that two can play this game, and she’ll have to learn the hard way that I always win in the end.