Page 17 of Excess

“Audit,” I replied breathily.

Calloused fingers traced the outline of my underwear beneath with a featherlight touch. We were silk and sandpaper, and the contrast between us only made me wetter.

With no preamble, Blake pulled the scanty fabric tight, yanking it up so it rubbed against my throbbing clit. I rocked back instantly, gasping for air at the sudden contact.

Blake let out a growl of approval that had my pussy clenching around nothing.

“What a perfect little slut you are, princess.”

I came instantly. It was the most humiliating, satisfying orgasm of my life. A few rubs of my clit with my own knickers and the most disrespectful praise I’d ever had the pleasure of hearing, and I was done for.

Blake flipped me onto my back while I was still trembling, manoeuvring me like a rag doll so that I was lying with my hips at the edge of the bed. He tugged off my underwear, tossing them away before bending my legs up so my feet were flat on the mattress, leaving me clothed and yet entirely exposed.

My fingers twisted the sheets on either side of my head as I squirmed my way through each pulse and shake rattling my body, setting my nerves alight.

Blake never took his eyes off my face the entire time, and that made me feel more vulnerable than anything else.

“Pretty,” he said gruffly, staring down at me.

The quiet, oddly intimate moment extended before he seemed to shake himself off right in front of me, straightening his spine and pushing his shoulders back.

While Blake’s expression appeared to be all bored arrogance at first, the heated desire in his eyes and the thick layer of alpha pheromones in the air were undeniable. He wanted this as much as I did.

Blake bunched up my skirt, gripping the waistband like a handle and keeping me pinned to the mattress like a butterfly beneath a tiger’s paw. His pupils dilated as he knelt down, leaning over and inhaling my pussy like it was a particularly fine vintage.

It was lewd in a way that sex never had been for me before. I loved it.

“Fuckkkk,” Blake groaned roughly, knuckles kneading into my abs as his hand shifted restlessly. “That fucking scent. That’s rich girl pussy right there. You gonna let me lick this champagne cunt?”

“I’m going to let you ruin this champagne cunt,” I breathed, writhing beneath him, desperate to feel more than just his hot breath on my clit.

I wanted him to be rough with me. To tell me I was spoiled and to make me beg. I wanted to let go in every respect and trust him to catch me when I fell.

“Of course you are,” Blake agreed easily, parting me with his free hand, exposing my dripping hole.

He flashed me a grin, and my stomach fluttered in a way that I wasn’t entirely sure I could attribute to sexual desire.

And yet Blake still didn’t touch me where I needed him to. He just watched for a long moment as slick pooled, forming a wet patch under my ass on the sheets. “What a mess you are, hm?”

“Yes,” I breathed, trying and failing to squirm in his firm grip. “Yes, I’m so messy.”

Blake’s gaze travelled slowly up my body, his expression almost bored. “And so shameless.”

He tutted disapprovingly and a small, humiliating whine of need escaped me before I could hold it back.

“What’s that, princess?”

Use your words. That’s what he wanted. Blake wasn’t going to do a thing until I pleaded for it.

“Touch me. Use me. Please.”

“You are such a good little fuck doll,” Blake replied conversationally, using his grip on my skirt to shove me further up the bed. “I want a taste, princess. Feed me.”

I slid a hand between my thighs, wetting one finger and holding it up for him to taste, melting from a combination of shame and desire that I’d begged for his touch and he’d arrogantly made me touch myself instead.

With a smirk of approval, Blake guided my wrist to his mouth, sucking my finger into his mouth, a rumble of approval vibrating in his chest.

“Fucking expensive,” he growled, releasing my digit with a pop. “Just like I thought. You taste like top-shelf whiskey and spoiled little rich girl problems.”

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