Harry slides me back with a gentle bite on my bottom lip. "Looks like you're saving that one for later."
Oh my god. He actually just denied me my orgasm. On the fucking brink of it, too.
I'm ready to slap him, to slam him back in the chair and demand he finish me off... But I can't. Here, I have no control. I don't want any control. I want to be controlled.
So I grab my purse and follow him from the car without a word. My body is trembling, begging for the finish, and my clit is aching so painfully that I'm tempted to turn around and finish myself off.
"Don't even think about doing it yourself," Harry orders like he can read my mind. "I want to know that, when you come later—because you will, I promise you—you've been waiting for it. I want to know your orgasm has been building for as long as I've wanted it to. I want to know that, when you come, Liv, it'll be the best fucking orgasm you've ever had."
My mouth dries, and my hand shakes as I try to insert my key into the door. Harry covers my hand with his to steady it and slots the key into place.
"Are you afraid?" he says into my ear quietly.
"Are you going to tie my hands and put me on my knees?"
"Yes."
"Then no, I'm not afraid."
He cups my jaw and turns my head to face him. Our gazes linger together for a moment before he nods and pushes open the door. "Go into your bedroom and take off all your clothes."
"Even the stockings?"
"Yes. Then put the heels back on."
I drop my purse on the kitchen table and glance over my shoulder. He's standing at the door, slowly shrugging off his jacket, and a shiver runs through me.
It feels like, after everything we've done so far, every limit we've pushed, tonight is different.
He's no longer asking me to do things. He's not even telling me. He's demanding me, forcing me to submit to his will. Controlling me.
And I like it.
I disappear into my room just as he's unknotting his tie. I swiftly remove my clothes and throw them on the ottoman at the end of my bed. I pull my heels on and stand. My reflection in my mirror catches my eye—my cheeks are flushed, my hair messed, and my nipples are puckered in the light chill of my apartment.
My eyes flick to the doorway. Harry steps into my room, naked himself but for his tie wrapped around his fist. I peruse his body, each inch of his toned torso I look at making my breath speed and my heart pound a little faster.
His cock bobs as he walks toward me confidently. My eyes are drawn to his erection, and the sight of his naked body makes mine clench. He hooks two fingers beneath my chin and tilts it up, drawing my eyes to his. When our gazes connect, he lowers his hands to mine.
He unwraps the tie from his fist and slowly pulls my hands together. My chest heaves at the first touch of the satin against my inner wrists. Anticipation fills me, sending adrenaline rushing through my body with and excited fervor.
Harry's lips twitch as he ties the knot. Tightly. One more tug to make sure it's secure and then he pulls me toward him. He inserts his cock between my hands and I curl my fingers around his shaft.
A light groan fall from his lips. "Get on your knees."
He eases me down to a kneeling position and releases me. He wraps one hand around himself and strokes slowly. He's teasing me, pushing my still-aching clit to a limit I didn't know existed. I lick my lips.
My eyes are firmly on his bulging cock as he brings it toward my mouth. I part my lips and draw him into my mouth easily. My tongue flicks across the end of him and the bead of salty pre-cum there before dipping into the ridge just behind it and circling him.
Instinctively, my hands come up and my fingers brush the base of his erection, ready to grasp him and hold it steady. But he grabs my hands and shoves them down, threading his fingers into my hair after. He tugs my head back, making his cock fall from my mouth, and I gaze into seductively dark eyes.
"The only part of your body that can touch my cock is your mouth. Use your hands again and I'll have to tie them behind your back. And believe me, that'll be no good for you later."
I nod. I wrap my lips around him once more, this time taking him right in my mouth. My tongue finds a vein pulsing at the side of his shaft and massages it, licking up and down it as I suck. Over, under, around—I leave no part of his cock untouched by my mouth or my tongue, drawing deep, low groans from him, hisses of breath, whispers of my name.
He forces my head forward, taking control of the moment. I'm bound, tied, unable to do anything but comply, do whatever he wants. Even as his hips move forward at the same time as my head and I'm forced to open my mouth wider to accommodate him, I don't complain.
Wordlessly, selflessly, willingly, I let Harry fuck my mouth vigorously.
And then he swells inside me. I prepare myself for the inevitable hot, salty spurts of his come. Instead, he pulls me back by my hair, sending a dangerous thrill through my body, and bends down.
His mouth is rough against mine, and he stands me up against him. "Get over there and flatten your hands above the mirror."
I look down at my hands and realized that he's tied them differently. I can twist them in his tie but not remove them. Apparently I take too long examining my bonds because his palm connects with my butt for a second time tonight.
But fuck, I like it.
"Mirror," he growls.
I obey, walking to the tall mirror. With my heels on, I'm just the right height to rest my hands above it like he wants me to.
He planned this. He knew it would be perfect.
"Step back, but not too far. I want to see your gorgeous ass sticking out in front of me."
My heart pounds furiously, desire trickling over my body, creating goose bumps and shivers across my skin. I step back once, feeling vulnerable but ready.
"Perfect," he murmurs, approaching me. He runs two fingers along my aching pussy. "And you're wet. Shit."
The floorboards creek, and I feel his tongue against me. One long, slow lick, with a forceful push on my clit that makes me gasp.
"If I knew you liked sucking my cock this much, I would have made you do it before." He stands and palms my butt cheeks. "If you could see your ass right now, you'd see my bright-red handprint. I don't like hurting you...but you like that, don't you?"
"Yes," I reply, dropping my head.
"Lift your head." He reaches around and pushes my head up. "Now open your eyes and look in the mirror. I'm going to fuck you, and I'm going to spank you, and you're going to watch yourself enjoy every second. You're going to watch yourself scream my name when I'm through with you."
He pushes into me in one swift, easy thrust. I throw my head back—it's so sudden, so filling, so fucking needed. He pauses inside me, holding himself completely still, while my muscles clench gently.
"But you're not going to come until I say you can," he adds huskily. "Because it's been too long since I've been inside your tight little cunt and I plan to stay here for a long time."
He pulls out and slams into me hard. Our skin slaps together as he does, filling the room with the primal sound. It's base and raw and everything I need right now. Everything I want.
Right now, he's controlling me so wholly. My body, my pleasure, even my mind. All three are at his mercy as he drives himself relentlessly into me and smacks me with his fingers. The slap is followed by a gentle palm, contradictory of his thrusts.
The sting is sweet. Welcome. Embraced.
Finally, finally, I'm not being treated like a china doll. Finally, I've found someone who isn't afraid to bend me over and fuck me into next Tuesday and spank me even further.
I cry out when I feel him hit the end of me. He stops abruptly, grabbing the back of my hair and yanking my head up. I didn't realize that it had dropped, that I wasn't looking in the mirror anymore.
"Look." Short. Sharp. Demanding.
My cheeks are flushed red, my eyes shining with building pleasure, my lips swollen and parted. My chest is heaving, and I can even see the tremble of my knees.
"Good girl."
He fucks me again, slower this time but just as deep. After releasing my hair, he brings one hand round my body. He squeezes one of my breasts then drops his hand to my pussy.
"Watch in the mirror. Watch as I play with your clit and bring you to a second orgasm you'll be denied."
I gasp. His fingers brush my clit, a movement I see and feel. Every rub of my clit is in time with his cock stroking inside me. Every one is perfectly synced, meant to tease me and push me even further.
Heat floods my body. My muscles tighten. Everything in me is ready for the sweet release of the pressure balled deep inside me.
Until he lets me go once more. His hand drops from my clit, his cock leaves my channel, and his fingers fall from my hip.
And I'm standing here, naked, panting, desperate.
Craving.
Harry touches his lips to the base of my spine. He kisses up my back until his cock nudges my opening once more.
With his hands on my hips, his cock pushing inside me, and his breath across my skin, I whisper, "Please."
"Please what? You want me to fuck you? Spank you? Make you come?"
"All of them."
"You don't control this, Liv."
"I'm not trying to control it, but you never said I couldn't beg."
His eyes meet mine in the mirror. "I quite like it when you beg."
"Please," I repeat. I finish on a moan when he fills me entirely.
He doesn't respond again. But his eyes stay on mine as he moves inside me. Long, slow, hard, fast, gentle, rough. He varies, holding on for a ridiculous amount of time, teasing me until I'm wound so tight that I know I'll explode.
"Look at you. Not me. At you." His fingers circle my clit. "Watch as you come."
One roll of my throbbing clit is all it takes.
I scream, actually scream, as pleasure overrides every sensation in my body. Blinding me, overwhelming me. My hands fall with the intensity, and Harry holds me to him—a fact I'm vaguely aware of.
My legs are shaking. My heart is thumping. My blood is rushing through my ears, deafening me to the point where I barely hear Harry's orgasm follow.
I can't do a thing but surrender yet again to him. To the flood of insanity filling my body and trembling my limbs.
Slowly it subsides, and I come back down from the crazy high. Harry's arms are wrapped tightly around me and his face is buried in the side of my neck. The tie is gone—my hands are free. I crook one arm round and sink my fingers into his hair, wanting to hold him, too.
Needing to hold him.
I need to hold him. I need him to hold me. I need him.
The revelation shakes me.
I need him.
In a way I've never needed anyone before. He understands me. He gets me. He gives me what I want the way I want it without question. No judgment. No hesitation.
With Harry, I can be myself.
And I need him.
He pulls out of me, oblivious to the shitstorm in my mind. The shitstorm with a startlingly clear outcome—I'm in too deep to get out, but not far enough to stay.
He leaves to go to the bathroom. I stay here, standing, staring at myself in the mirror. I lean against the edge of the bed and pull off my shoes, discarding them on the floor by my closet.
One-thousand-dollar shoes just got thrown on the floor. But really, who cares when your biggest fear is now a reality?
The drunken haze that left in the car is back, complete with a head-spinning blur. I stagger, grabbing the foot of my bed to steady myself.
Tissue wipes along my center—but not from my hand, but I know I can trust Harry. A minute later, he comes back and lifts me up.
He lays me in bed, tugs the covers back, and climbs in next to me. He wraps his arms around me, and I lay my head on his chest, squeezing my eyes shut. In fact, I do more than just that. I wrap one of my arms around his body and hold him as tight as he's holding me.
"Did I hurt you?" he whispers, breaking the silence.
I shake my head. "No," I reply just as quietly.
He nudges my face up and kisses me. Gently. Softly. Reverently. "You are so perfect for me it scares me."
It scares you? Scares you?
I rest my cheek back against his shoulder, burying my face into his neck. He curls into me, drawing me even closer, breathing me in. And the words fall breathlessly from my lips without warning or thought.
"I'm addicted to you. And that scares me."
He flexes his fingers against my back, and that's the only indication I have that he heard me.
I don't blame him for not replying—it's not every day you get told that someone is addicted to you.
Just when I think he's asleep, when I'm on the brink of it myself, he whispers, "I was never not addicted to you, my beautiful, flighty bitch."
note: sorrrrrrrrrrrry for the late update :( i've been so busy lately and my marks weren't as good as i thought ugh.