Page 6 of Take Her

It’d never occurred to me that perhaps I was the one who needed a safe word.

“You don’t mean that,” I told her in a low growl. “We discussed this.”

Her eyes blazed and she shook her head. “Don’t tell me what I don’t mean.”

“Then maybe you do need punishing after all,” I threatened.

“There’s nothing you can do that can hurt me,” she proclaimed, and I quite literally felt her insubordination as she physically braced for whatever onslaught she was taunting.

But I was older than her, and wiser than her, and extraordinarily used to getting my way.

“No?” I asked her rhetorically—and then roughly slid my hand between her thighs.

Her whole body tensed as she gasped.

“Technically this is within the priorly arranged touching zone,” I said, twisting my wrist to gain a little freedom—enough space to run the pads of my first two fingers against the fabric trapped against her pussy.

She took a long and shuddering inhale, before protesting, “You wouldn’t.”

“You clearly don’t know me,” I said, leaning over, to look her directly in her eyes. “I absolutely would.”

It was nothing to find her clit—I highly doubted she was wearing underwear—and once I was there, the only thing that would stop me would be her saying the name of an overrated car brand. I traced lightly against it, getting her used to the idea of me touching her intimately—and the expression on her oval-shaped face was an exquisite combination of turned on and betrayal.

“Are you okay?” I asked her softly.

Me asking made her melt against me and she quickly nodded. “I think so,” she said, then nervously added, “You’re not really mad?”

Daddy issues indeed. “How could I be?” I told her, then gave her my best impression of a warmhearted grin as I stilled my hand. “When everyone here is going to watch the prettiest girl in this room come for me?”

Her gaze lingered on mine, as she bit her full lower lip and then slowly released it as her thighs squeezed to pull my fingers in.

“Such a good girl,” I praised her, sitting back up. She gave me one last longing look, and then braced one hand on the ground and clutched the other against my calf. I pushed my hand in deeper, for better leverage as I stroked her, and her thighs parted to let me.

I ran a figure-eight pattern over her clit, before pulling it between my first two fingers in a gentle V, feeling her rock against me. I had no idea how much time had passed, but if anyone else in line complained before I got her off, I would kill them personally.

“So beautiful, so passionate,” I crooned on. “So smart to pick me,” I added, and felt her laugh. She pushed her knees a little wider, giving me more space, and I rubbed my thumb against her pussy, which made her moan. “Did you like that?” I asked, so quietly she probably couldn’t hear—but she might have felt the soothing rumble of my voice. I circled her entrance, pressing hard against the fabric that separated us, while working against her clit with my fingertips and knuckles. “Is my little girl going to come for me?” I asked more loudly.

Her hand around my calf grabbed tighter, and her hips rose in response, grinding against my hand, and riding up and down the shaft of my trapped cock, too.

I had sudden visions of what I would do to her if no one else was there. I would stay on the throne of course, but I would rip her out of her silly catsuit, wind my palm with her long hair, and make her ride me. I would come in her pussy, her mouth, and her ass, and after I’d satisfied myself with every hole, I’d stripe her tits with my cum just because I could.

She gave a needy whine, pulling me back from my reverie.

“Mmmm,” I purred, leaning forward to capture her hips between my lap and my chest as I put my elbow between her knees, and turned my hand into a fist, so I could bring all the muscles of my forearm to bear, rocking against her pussy’s edges with the knuckle of my thumb, feeling the muscles of her cunt quiver with anticipation. “Does my little girl need me?”

She was panting harder now, it was easy to see the movement of her ribcage beneath her catsuit’s shine. “Yes,” she hissed.

I changed angles and took a long moment to just trace the folds of her pussy and stroke at her clit, and no matter where my fingers went, her hungry hips chased me. I would’ve laughed, were I not so breathlessly hard. “Yes what?” I asked.

“Yes, sir,” she begged, arching into me. Her entire body was tense, her toes pointed far harder than her precipitously high heels required. I could tell she was on a cliff; all she needed was to be pushed over.

And for this one instance, this singular moment in time, I was a man who could not resist temptation. I ground into her pussy and rubbed her clit roughly.

“Yes...what?” I asked again, more meaningfully, and the second she realized what I was giving her permission to do her fingers clawed me, her hips hitched up, and I came as close as I could to fully fucking her with my hand.

“Yes—yes—Daddy,” she cried out, arching against me, coming beautifully, the muscles of her stomach pulling tight against my thigh in waves as her orgasm hit her, passed through, and then roiled back again. She kept crying out as she came, making pleasing, helpless sounds, absolutely lost in the moment, utterly forgetting that we were in the middle of a crowd.

“Mmm, good, so good,” I promised her, stroking her back as I followed her through, my hand riding each of her spasms. “What a good girl,” I swore, petting her until she stilled. “You needed that, didn’t you?” I kindly asked, like I was doing everything for her sake, like she hadn’t just given me enough material to jerk off without porn for the rest of the year.

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