Page 21 of Endless Obsession

He pulls back slightly, his thumbs skimming over my soft flesh, and it takes everything in me not to beg him to keep going. But I’m not there yet. Not quite.

“I knew you needed this as soon as I saw you,” he murmurs, his voice low and dark, his breath heated against my oversensitive skin. “But I had no idea how much.” He leans in again, so close that I can feel the barest brush of his skin against mine. “Don’t hold back, little dove. You can come as many times as you like. I want you to have as much pleasure tonight as you possibly can.”

He says it like it’s a given that I’ll come. That I’ll come again, and again. And I didn’t believe him before, but now—as his tongue slides over me again and I feel another toe-curling wave of pleasure crash over me, I understand his cockiness. His confidence. Because I’m going to come, and I’m already so close.

His thumbs hold me open, his mouth pressed tightly now against me, his tongue sliding up to focus on my clit. He licks me in long, hot strokes, then circles my clit as my moans turn to gasping whines, the sounds coming from me like nothing I’ve ever heard before. They’re certainly no sounds I’ve ever made before. But I can’t stop. If he stopped right now, I would beg. Because I’m so close, so fucking close, and as those circles tighten, his tongue stiffening, I feel the muscles in my thighs seize, and I realize that what I’ve always thought was an orgasm has been nothing but a dim shadow of what I’m about to feel.

My entire body tightens, the sensations building to a singular, sharp point that suddenly explodes like a thousand fireworks, light bursting behind my eyes as my fingers claw at the blankets and my hips jerk upwards, grinding shamelessly against his face as I start to buck and writhe and gasp with a nearly incomprehensible pleasure. He’s still licking, still keeping up those same intense circles, and I keep waiting for him to stop, but he doesn’t. It draws out the pleasure, until I realize dazedly that the orgasm has ebbed, but the pleasure hasn’t stopped. He’s still going, and he’s right—if he keeps this up, it feels like I could come again.

I’m still grinding against his mouth, gasping and making small sobbing, moaning sounds, and he slides one hand away from me, looping his arm around my thigh and over my stomach, effectively pinning me to the bed. I gasp at the pressure of him holding me down, another moan slipping from my lips, and his other hand moves down, two gloved fingers pushing inside of me as his mouth tightens around my clit and he starts to suck.

I cry out. It’s very nearly a scream; the pleasure intensified even more at this new assault on my swollen, oversensitive flesh, and his fingers curl inside of me, the feeling of the smooth leather thrusting inside my body foreign and delicious at the same time. It feels like bare fingers and not, simultaneously, and I gasp, my hips rolling as much as they can under the weight of his arm as he thrusts his fingers back and forth, fucking me with them as he sucks harder at my clit.

I feel him groan as arousal floods me, soaking his fingers, his hand, his mouth, his chin. He must be dripping with me by now, but the embarrassment of it all has faded, replaced only with the desperate building need to come again. I’ve forgotten that I don’t believe it’s possible, forgotten everything except how much I need this, and I writhe under his grasp, riding his mouth to my second climax as his gloved fingers thrust and curl, his tongue lashing and fluttering against my clit.

He sucks harder, hard enough that I can feel how swollen my clit is, throbbing against his tongue, and the pressure builds to that sharp, sparkling point again?—

He was right about making me scream.

It almost feels as if I black out for a second. I’m not aware of what my body is doing, of my hands scrabbling at the blanket or the bucking of my hips as I ride his tongue to my second climax. I’m only aware of sensation, of how impossibly good it feels, of how I never knew anything could feel like this, the cold strangeness of the gloves and mask and his fully clothed body nestled between my bare legs, only heightening everything. It’s an experience like nothing I ever imagined, and I faintly hear my voice, shrieking out my pleasure as I take all of it from him, wave after wave, until it fades, and I lay limp and trembling on the bed.

I feel his tongue slide over me in one last long, lingering lick, before he pulls back, his fingers sliding out of me. I stare numbly up at him, speechless, as he looks down at me with that satisfied smirk on his face.

His lips are wet. So is his chin, glistening with my arousal. He sees me looking at him, and reaches up with one gloved hand, lewdly dragging it across his face. My mouth drops open, and I stare at him, at the unabashed, unashamed sexuality that drips from him.

He leans forward, two gloved fingertips pressing against my lower lip, and before I can react to what he’s doing, he pushes them into my mouth. The leather is damp, salty and tangy from my arousal, and before I can think better of it, my lips close around his fingers as I suck the taste of myself off of him.

It’s what he wanted me to do. I knew it, instinctively, even though I’ve never imagined doing anything like that in my life. But those dark blue eyes look startled, as if he didn’t expect me to actually do it.

He groans, his head tipping back as he tugs his fingers free. It’s only then that I think to look down, and I see the shape of his cock, straining in a thick, impossibly hard ridge against the front of his suit trousers.

My mouth goes dry. Unless it’s some kind of optical illusion, he’s huge. Bigger than any man I’ve ever slept with, for sure.

“That—turned you on?” My voice is a breathless gasp, still recovering from everything he just did to me. I don’t think I can move.

His eyes widen again. “Is that a serious question, little dove?” His voice is still smooth and rich, that British accent clipping every word, but he sounds surprised by what I said.

I bite my lip, some of my self-consciousness returning. “I—I’m just used to guys needing to get fully hard again, after doing that,” I half-mumble. “They always say it’s distracting.” I try to think rapidly of any man I’ve ever been with who didn’t have to quickly stroke himself back to a full erection after going down on me for the cursory two or three minutes to get me wet enough to fuck—never enough to make me come—but I can’t.

He snorts inelegantly, a little of the polished facade slipping, for a moment. Enough to let me see that he’s playing a part, here. That the man here with me in this room, this club, isn’t the man he normally is on the outside.

Whoever that is, I’ll never know. I wait to feel disappointed, or robbed of something, but I surprisingly don’t. I knew what this was. And it’s been everything I could want.

“The taste of you makes me painfully hard, little dove,” he murmurs. “I can’t think of anything more arousing than making you come on my tongue. I’d do it all night, if we had more time.”

“I don’t think I could take it again,” I admit, and he chuckles darkly.

“You could,” he promises. “But maybe not tonight.”

I swallow hard, looking down at that thick, threatening ridge again, straining against his fly. “What do you want?” I ask softly, starting to push myself up from the pillows. “Do you want oral, too, or?—”

“I don’t want anything,” he says firmly, starting to slide off of the bed, and I reach out on instinct, grabbing one gloved hand. He freezes, and I look at him curiously.

“I don’t understand.” I frown. “You’re turned on. You just said so yourself. You don’t want to fuck me? Or use my mouth, or—” I feel my cheeks flush again, and I’m oddly hurt that he doesn’t want me to return the pleasure that he just gave me.

His smile softens slightly as he stands up. “No,” he says calmly. “I think you’ve had a lifetime of being expected to give something in return for any pleasure you receive. So I think for tonight, little dove, you should get to only take.”

He sinks down into the chair next to the window, his long, muscled body relaxing into it. I can still see the evidence of how aroused he is, but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to do anything about it.

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