INTRODUCTIONS; THE ARRANGEMENT 9 page

“Close your eyes, Kyrie.”

I did as he instructed. “They’re closed. Not that it makes a difference, this room is so dark.”

“Keep them closed.” I heard his voice moving nearer, heard his feet on the carpeting.

I felt the bed dip under his weight. My heart began hammering even harder, pounding in my throat. His hand touched my leg, near the knee, moved upward, to my thigh, to my hip. Up my waist. I was covered only by the sheet, wearing a T-shirt and underwear. His hand slid over my breast, cupped it, and then kept moving. He found my face. His thumb brushed my chin, my cheekbone. And then I felt silk pressed to my eyes, and I lifted my head so he could tie the blindfold.

“I apologize for my absence these last few days, Kyrie. Business called me away. But I’m back now, and I’m going to make up for my departure.” He pulled the sheet down, tossed it aside. “Put your hands beneath the pillow, under your head.”

I slid my hands under the pillow as instructed, and kept my questions to myself. I had a feeling I knew what he was going to do, and I wasn’t about to argue.

His finger traced my cheekbone once more, brushed a tendril of hair away, then slid down the curve of my throat.

“Is this shirt important to you?”

I shook my head, then realized he might not be able to see the gesture. “No. The last one you ripped was, though.”

“My apologies, in that case.” He grasped the neck of my T-shirt in both hands, and I felt his knuckles against my breastbone, felt his hands tense, and then the cotton ripped open from top to bottom. I felt his presence leave the bed, heard a switch click. “That’s better. Now I can see your lovely body. You have such perfect breasts, Kyrie.”

Cool air washed over my exposed torso, making my skin pebble and my nipples harden. My hands clenched into fists under the pillow. I braced myself for his touch, but when it came, it wasn’t where I expected it. His finger touched the seam of my mouth, slid from corner to corner. I parted my lips, felt his finger slide into my mouth, and I tasted salty skin. I bit down gently, and I heard a hiss as he sucked in a breath. His finger left my mouth, carved a line down my chin, down my throat, between my breasts, over my diaphragm and stomach. When he reached my underwear, his finger hooked under the elastic and continued its southward journey, bringing my panties with it. I lifted up, and his finger ran around to my hip, bringing the fabric down, and then across my pudendum to the other hip, and then the garment was gone, tossed away.

I was naked for him now, except for a ripped scrap of T-shirt around my arms. My nipples were diamond-hard, my breath coming in long, deep pulls, lifting my boobs and letting them fall. My thighs were pressed together, and I felt his gaze on me, knew he was staring at me, memorizing my body. I let my legs fall apart, let him see me.

“Kyrie…you are so fucking beautiful.” His voice was low, reverent. “And you are mine.”

I flinched in surprise when I felt his palm graze my left nipple, and then relaxed into his touch as he cupped me. His hand moved to my other breast, and then slid down the curve of my waist, to the bell of my hip. Over my thigh, up the inside, and then his finger was tracing the dampening line of my cleft, sending a hissing breath out of my lips.

“No need to be quiet this time, Kyrie. You can make all the noise you want. Scream for me, if you want. Say my name. Right now, say my name.”

“Roth….”

As the word left my mouth, his finger slid into my pussy, and I said his name, drawing it out into a groan. He coated his finger in the slick juices of my folds, and then dragged it over my clit. He didn’t need to do that, though, because I was already wet, already throbbing for his touch. I knew how hard he could make me come, and from the moment I felt him rip my shirt open, I wanted it, needed it.

Giving into him was becoming easier.

“Spread your legs, Kyrie. Wide open.”

I obeyed, drawing my knees up and letting them fall apart. See? I didn’t even question him — I just did what he told me like a good girl.

“So perfect, Kyrie. Your pussy is like a flower, pink and pretty and begging for me to open its petals.”

Who the hell talks like that? I wondered, but the thought was faint, because his words had a powerful effect on me. He thought my pussy looked like a flower? Jesus, that was kind of hot. Weird, and unexpected, but hot.

His fingers traced over my opening, slid down one labia and up the other, dipped in to caress my clit, and back out. And then his weight shifted, and I felt his broad shoulders brushing the inside of my knees, and I felt his stubble on my inner thigh. Oh, god. Oh, god. He was about to go down on me. I wanted to tense, wanted to hook my knees over his shoulders and beg him to lick me senseless, wanted to beg him to take off the blindfold so I could see him, so I could watch his head between my legs. I did none of that. I held absolutely still, kept silent, and waited.

His hands curled around the outside of my thighs, and I felt his breath on my soft, sensitive skin. His stubble was rough on my flesh, but his tongue sliding up my folds made up for it. In fact, the contrast of his scratchy stubble on my thighs and his tongue wet and hot and slow along my opening was delicious and erotic, and I couldn’t and didn’t try to stop a moan from escaping my lips. His fingers walked along the hollow of my hips, found the lips of my pussy and pulled them apart, and his tongue flicked in to swipe around my swollen clit in a long, wet circle.

“Kyrie…you taste so good, Kyrie. I’m going to lick your sweet, perfect pussy until you beg me stop, but I won’t stop. I’ll keep licking you until you can’t take it anymore, and then, when you’ve come so hard and so many times that you think you’re about to die, I’ll make you come again. Have you ever come so many times you passed out, Kyrie? That’s what I’m going to do to you. Right now. Tonight. I’m going to eat your sweet wet little pussy until you pass out.” His words rumbled and his voice purred like a lion’s growl, and his breath was hot on me, and his fingers were gentle but insistent, and I nearly came just from his voice, just from his words, just from his promises.

I bit my lip and moaned as his tongue slid up my opening, his tongue flattened and fat. He licked me like that a few times, his tongue going stiff as it swiped over my clit. As the tip of his tongue left my pussy, I felt my hips lifting, rising of their own accord, seeking contact. Moans were leaving my lips nonstop now as his tongue narrowed and speared into me, diving in to circle my clit. The rhythm, oh, Jesus, the rhythm he set was slow and deliberate and maddening. Designed to make me crazy. Designed to make me beg. He used nothing but his tongue. For a time I had no way of measuring what he was doing, just licking and circling me in no discernible pattern. Heat swelled inside me, and pressure bore down on me like drowning at the bottom of a pool. My breath came in groans, and my hips lifted and fell to the wild sequence of his tireless tongue.

And then, just as I was about to scream from frustration and need, the fingers of his right hand trailed around my leg and up the inside of my thigh, and then I felt a single digit pierce my folds and curl against my inner walls, crooking to stroke me high and deep, eliciting a gasp that became a whimper. I couldn’t help but hook my heels over his shoulders, and he grasped my hips in both hands, tugged me down the bed, grabbed a pillow, and shoved it under my lower back to lift my ass off the bed. My hands were fisted under the pillow, shaking, desperate to tangle in his hair.

His hands slid over my body, soothing and smoothing, exploring and possessing. His palm grazed my breast, cupped its weight, and then his fingers pinched my nipple, tweaking and twisting, adding a sharp line of barbed-wire heat to the pressure and fire inside me. I felt his other hand arcing over my belly, across my hip, my thigh, sliding over the damp and trembling line of my pussy, and then his finger traced down the opening and pushed in. I groaned, and then let a tiny breathless scream leave me as his tongue flicked against my clit. Another finger joined the first inside my pussy, and his tongue moved in slow circles. Two fingers stroked inside me, curling up and in, and the pace of his tongue quickened.

Heat billowed in my core, pressure set my thighs to trembling, and my heels crossed over each other on his back, holding him to me. My hands needed to touch him. I needed to. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I kept them in place, just as he’d told me to do.

I was moaning loudly now, hips writhing against his mouth.

My orgasm was quick and hard, pulsing through me like lightning strikes.

“Shit…Roth…oh, god….” I heard myself gasp.

“That was a good start.” His voice came from between my legs. “But it was just a start.”

Just a start? That orgasm had left me limp and sweaty, shaking, barely able to catch my breath. I realized that he might not have been kidding when he’d promised to make me pass out. I’d only had multiple orgasms once in my life, and that had been a…memorable evening. The guy in question had been a U.S. Marine on leave, and we’d only had that one night together, but holy shit had he been good.

He was an amateur, I realized, in comparison to Roth. I’d come hard, and it had only taken him a few minutes.

My thoughts were dissolved by his fingers sliding out of me and moving up to caress my throbbing, aching clit. I groaned, and Roth groaned with me.

“This time, I want you to come as fast as possible.” He licked me once, hard. “Are you ready, Kyrie?”

“I…I don’t know if I can again.”

“Oh, you can.” He licked me, and I felt a bolt of something hot shoot through me, making me gasp. “See? Come for me, Kyrie. Come again.”

He put his lips to my clit and sucked, three fingers sliding in and out of my tight, clenching opening. He sucked hard, and my hips left the bed, lightning hitting me with each pull of his mouth on my throbbing nub.

And sure enough, within seconds I was teetering on the edge, and his free hand drifted up my body to pinch my nipple, pinching as hard as he was sucking. I groaned, and as soon as I fell over the edge, his touch turned light, his tongue flicking my clit and his fingers gently stroking my nipple. I screamed aloud, coming hard, back arching.

“Good, Kyrie. Very good. That was beautiful.” I felt him crawl out from between my thighs and up my body. “Now, while you’re still coming, touch yourself. Put your fingers to your pussy so I can watch you make yourself come.”

I was arched off the bed even as he spoke. There was no way I could come again. No way. I ached. I hurt. I was completely limp.

When I didn’t comply, I felt him grab my hand and shove it between my thighs. His palm touched the back of my hand, and his fingers moved against mine, pushing my middle digit against my clit.

“I can’t…I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” I felt him lean over me, felt his tongue, which surely must be tired by now, trace a lazy circle around my nipple. “Touch yourself, Kyrie. I want to watch you make yourself come.”

I moved my middle and ring fingers in a tentative circle. I swallowed hard and bit my lip as almost painful heat throbbed inside me. Roth was pressing kisses to my tits, cupping my right boob and pulling it toward himself, licking my thickened nipple, circling the areola with his tongue, and then letting go and paying the same attention to my right side. His hands weren’t idle, though. He was stroking me, caressing me all over. Grabbing my hip and kneading my tits and holding my waist. I felt my hand moving, felt pressure build within me once again as my fingers moved in compliance with Roth’s command. How could I possibly come again? He’d brought me to climax twice within, what, fifteen minutes, if that? Jesus. I didn’t think it was possible, but he’d done it.

And now, his mouth on my tits and my own fingers circling my clit with quick, sure movements, I was right there again. What was it about Roth that affected me so powerfully? His voice? His dirty talk? His confidence? I wasn’t sure, but there was something about him that just pushed me to boiling point.

I was teetering on the cusp of orgasm, lost to sensation, my fingers touching myself in the way only you can touch yourself, knowing your own hot spots, knowing the perfect speed and perfect rhythm. His lips were wrapped around my right nipple, and I felt a line of heat connecting my tits to my core, and as my fingers moved and his mouth suckled, that line was being tugged, jerking yet another orgasm from me.

I exploded with a shriek, hips rocking, back arched as far as my spine would allow.

There was no warning. He slammed his mouth against mine, tongue sliding between my lips still open in shock, his palm huge against my cheek. I buried my fingers in his hair and kissed him back, exhausted and wrung out and shaking all over, giddy, delirious, and dizzy.

“Roth…holy shit, Roth.”

“You need a break, don’t you, beautiful?” His voice buzzed against my mouth.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “I’ve never come so hard, so fast, or so many times in all my life.”

He laughed, a low rumble of amused and erotic promise. “Oh, Kyrie. I’ve just gotten started. I’m not giving you a break. Oh, no. Now it’s time to dial it up a few notches, I think.”

“Wh—what do you mean?”

I felt him move somehow, but I couldn’t determine what he was doing. And then…I heard a telltale buzzing. A vibrator? He was going to use a vibrator on me?

“You tensed, Kyrie. Relax. Trust me.”

“Roth, I really don’t think I can—” I started to protest, but I felt something soft and rubbery vibrating against my inner thigh, and I forgot what I was saying.

I could. I realized it in a split second. I could come again, and if he used that on me, I would. I was tensed, thighs closed, mouth open, back arched, shoulders back, fists clutched in his shirt.

“You can, Kyrie. You will. Just relax.” I let out a long breath and relaxed the tension in my muscles. He moved the vibrator against my opening, a slow, teasing drag between my labia. “Good. Just breathe. Just feel. I’ll go slow.”

I felt him press the tip between my lips, wiggle it slightly, and then pull it out. It slid up my cleft, down, and back up, pushing deeper with each stroke. He had it on a low setting, and it was just barely vibrating. I spread my legs apart, giving him access, giving myself over to letting him have his way with me. This was a game now; how many times could he make me come?

I gasped as he pushed the buzzing tip inside me and then slid it out, coating it in my essence, making it slick so the next time he moved it between my folds, it moved easily and smoothly, filling me. I felt an “mmmmmmmmm” of need escape my lips, and then the tempo of vibration increased, once, twice, a third time, and then it was humming madly, setting my entire body on fire, and he was sliding it in and out of me, and I realized the vibrator had a smaller, secondary tip angled to bump against my clit as he slid the entire thing into me.

He moved it slowly, drawing it out, pausing, and sliding it in gently. Not fast enough. Not hard enough. I needed more. I took the vibrator from him and moved it the way I needed, harder, faster, deeper.

“That’s it, Kyrie. Just like that. Take it. Make yourself come again. You’re so beautiful, Kyrie, and never more so than when you’re coming apart for me.” He whispered in my ear, caressing my skin, tweaking my nipples. “And now you’re going to come again, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, shit…I am….” I was barely able to get words out, to make sense, going frantic with need as I felt another climax building inside me. “I’m gonna come again….”

“Not until I tell you to, Kyrie. Don’t come yet.”

“I thought—”

“Slow down, Kyrie. Not yet.” I tried to obey, but I couldn’t. I needed to come. The need was huge and fiery and sharp inside me, a frantic pressure. “Bend your knees. Pull your heels up against your ass and let your knees fall apart.”

I did as he told me, drawing my heels up so they pressed against my butt cheeks, and then let my knees fall apart. I was spread open for him, and I was still working the vibrator, albeit as slowly as I could, frustrated and unsure what he wanted, what he had planned.

As soon as his fingers brushed my thigh and slid down to cup my ass, I knew what he was going to do.

“No,” I gasped. “Don’t, Roth.”

His hands, clutching my ass, froze. “No? You really don’t want me to touch you there? I won’t, if you say no again.”

Did I? Did I dare let him? I deliberated, trying to come up with reasons why not. I was still afraid of his power over me; I was afraid of how much I had let him do to me, when I didn’t know him, had never even laid eyes on him, didn’t even know his fucking name. I didn’t know his fucking name, yet I’d let him eat me out and let him finger me, in public, in a box at the goddamned Met. He’d given me commands, and I’d obeyed.

While I was thinking, he slid his finger up the crease of my ass, a teasing touch. I was hovering on the verge of climax, moving the vibrator in torturously slow motion, sliding it in and out in increments and centimeters, drawing it out, feeling the driving, maddening need to finish, to come, and all the while he was teasing me, sliding one thick, long finger along my ass.

“If you don’t say no, then it’s going to happen, Kyrie.” He pressed his lips to my ear, and I felt the heat and presence of his body over mine, felt his shirt against my skin, his pants brushing my legs. “You’ve got ten seconds to decide, Kyrie. In ten seconds, I’m going to slide my finger between the cheeks of your tight round ass and I’m going put my finger in your asshole, and you’re going to come so hard you’ll cry. You want it, don’t you? I can feel it. You do. You’re a dirty girl, a bad girl, and you want this. Deny it, Kyrie. Tell me no. Tell me you don’t want it, and I won’t do it.”

He went silent, and I knew this was my chance, my one chance to demur. No. Two letters, a single syllable, a single breath. Easy to say, so easy. Yet it didn’t come out.

Because…fuck it. I did want it. I wanted anything he could do to me. Everything he’d done so far had been…incredible. So why not this?

“Tell me you want it, Kyrie. Tell me what you want me to do.” Roth’s voice was an insistent murmur in my ear.

His finger slid in, moved deeper, brushed against the tight bud of knotted muscle, and I felt myself tense, felt my heartbeat hammer harder. The decision was already made. At every step, with every new thing he asked of me, I fought him. Said no at first, acted like I didn’t want what he intended. Yet I always gave in, always realized I did want it. I did want him.

“Do it, Roth.” My voice was stronger than I felt. “Touch me.”

“Where, Kyrie? Touch you where? I want to hear the words.” His fingertip pressed in, a slight pressure, just enough to tantalize me.

The vibrator was buried deep inside me, buzzing crazily, and I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do a damn thing except want him to push that finger in and bring me to completion.

“In…in my ass. Put your finger in my ass, Roth. Do it. Please.” Was that my voice? That husky, demanding rasp?

Roth growled. “Like…this?” As he said the words, he pressed gently and with increasing pressure.

I forced myself to relax, to take it. “Yeah. Like that. Just like that. Oh…shit.”

“So tight,” Roth murmured. “So fucking tight.”

I barely held back a shriek as he slid his finger into me up to the first knuckle. And then he wrapped his other hand around mine and forced me to get the vibrator moving, and his tongue dragged over my nipple and flicked it, and I was helpless, screaming, coming just like that, and he was wiggling his finger deeper and the vibrator was thrusting into me hard and fast, guided by both our hands, and I was clutching at him with my one free hand, seeking him, needing him. I found his hair, curled my fingers into a fist and held on, rode the tidal wave of climax with shriek after shriek, my voice going hoarse at the end, my hips rolling.

Breath left me, dizziness washed over me, and then my body went utterly limp. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t even move my tongue inside my mouth. Couldn’t move my hands or my legs. I couldn’t even twitch.

I felt him draw the vibrator out of me, and his finger, and then he left the bed. Faintly, I heard water running. I was a puddle of jelly, boneless, helpless. Unconsciousness flooded through me, but just before it did, I felt the bed dip. Felt his presence beside me. Felt fingers tugging at the blindfold, taking it off me. I felt his skin against mine.

“Sleep, Kyrie. Sleep now.” HIs voice was low, nearly inaudible, and gentle. Tender.

It was still a command, and I obeyed.

But not before I realized he had me tucked against his chest, his arms around my waist, one hand threading his fingers through my tangled hair.

7

Date: 2015-12-24; view: 793