“Do that again.”
I do, and he thrusts a little deeper. And deeper still, until I feel it. He’s buried to the hilt, all the way inside, and I can’t breathe. The air in my lungs feels impossibly short, and it has everything to do with the fact that I’m impaled by Malcolm’s massive cock. I can’t move, pinned by him and my arms bound. All I can do is feel and surrender to it.
Because I’m his.
The words seem like a perfect rhythm to match my pounding heart.
I’m his. I’m his. I’m his.
Malcolm is perfectly still, holding himself deep inside me, and as he stays there, I get used to him. Suddenly it feels right and perfect to have him there and I want more. Movement and even deeper penetration.
But he doesn’t move, still.
He kisses me. Softly at first and then harder. He rocks his hips in time with his tongue, building the momentum and the pleasure. It spins inside me and grows, because that’s all my body can do. I’m in complete overload. Every nerve is firing, trying to handle everything he’s making me feel. And he’s barely started. I have a feeling that I’m going to be completely and thoroughly fucked by the time that this is over.
Harder, he moves, slowly pulling back and pushing in, gaining speed and power until he’s slamming into me and not holding back. I’m lit up from the inside with fireworks, and I’m so close to it that I might give him what he wants and actually scream when he stops completely.
I don’t know how he did it, but he did. I’ve never thought a man could just…stop like that. He’s still buried in me, balls snug against my ass and the head of his cock so deep even the smallest movement makes me shiver in pleasure.
“What did I say your job was as my pet?” he asks.
The words are deceptively soft. Like velvet. I have to get the question right. I know it.
“I do what you tell me,” I say. “When you tell me to do it.”
“Or in some cases,” he says, thrusting once, “what I tell you not to do.”
“No…” I say, suddenly putting the pieces together.
Malcolm’s slow smile has my toes curling and my stomach dropping all at once. “Yes. You’re mine, Juno, and that means your pleasure is mine too. You’re not going to come unless I give you permission to do so.”
“That’s not fair,” I say.
“I think it’s completely fair,” he says, grinning.
I moan when he moves his hips. “That’s because you’re on the good end.”
“Can’t argue with that,” he laughs. “You can ask me, but you need to be prepared to hear the word no. Because asking doesn’t mean I’ll say yes. I’ll say yes if I think that you deserve it.”
Fuck. I hate that I think this is so hot. And I hate that he knows it too, because I’m suddenly drenched, my nipples achingly hard. And the way his smile turns sharp, there’s no chance that he misses it.
He starts fucking me again, and it feels like just because he told me that I couldn’t, suddenly I’m on the edge of orgasm and about to blow over. God, I could just let go. But I don’t. I hold on like my life depends on it.
“Please,” I moan, voice jagged from the force of his thrusting. “Please let me come.”
“This time,” he says. “Yes.”
I fall into fire and pleasure and a storm of everything. A shout comes out of me like I’ve never heard before, unleashed from a place deep inside me. I’ve never come so many times so close together and it’s unleashed something in me. Something bright and brilliant and loud. Maybe Malcolm will turn me into a screamer after all.
He groans, pushing harder and faster until he pushes one last time, holding himself deep. His cock jerks inside me as he comes, every muscle taught as he’s stretched above me. He looks so good, lost in his own pleasure before he release my legs and eases down onto me. We’re still connected, and Malcolm kisses me.
It feels like a drug that I can’t get enough of. I could get lost in his kisses forever. When he pulls back we’re both panting. “How did I do?” I ask.
He grins. “On what?”
“The lessons.”
Malcom chuckles and kisses me again. “You did really well, pet.”
“Good.”
Slowly, he extracts himself from me and grabs the water bottles that he brought with him when he came upstairs. “Always need to hydrate after sessions like that.”
I laugh. “Is this what I can expect from every time?”
“Yes.” His face is entirely serious.
“Okay.”
He does crack a grin then. “I take my sex seriously.”
“Good,” I say, then I slip off the bed and grab my phone. There’s a text from Bailey groaning that she had to do it, but she did drop me off some clothes and my shower stuff. “And now, I’m going to shower,” I tell him. Because I haven’t showered since before the party and I need the sweat and everything off me.