Page 123 of His Pretty Little Duet

Stops.

Stilling his movement, our kiss becomes one-sided as he says, "You want more? That's very pleasing."

I have come to learn he enjoys watching and feeling me as I move on his body. He could toss me aside if he didn't like it, but he doesn't. He likes me rubbing on him like a cat. Perhaps, he likes my desperation. Lifting my hips off the ottoman, I slide along his shaft, spoiled for more pleasure.

"Good girl," he growls, the twisted timbre revealing his arousal and restraint. "You try so hard, little deer. Can you have an orgasm all by yourself for me?"

I roll my hips shamelessly, chasing the sensation.

God, I'm tight all over, desperate for—something. Something is missing.

I become feverish.

After his mouth's assault on me. And now this. I need to prove I can, but I can't. I need him to finish it for me. "Please—"I let out the words through a tight moan. "Please, help me."

Clay's lips slide into a smirk against my mouth as I continue to kiss him clumsily. The taunting sensation burns in my ears. My pussy leaks all over his pants in anticipation.

"God,"I growl, reaching for my climax while it eludes me, feeling as though I will combust if I don't get off again.

Using his body to get there?—

"Don't cover the mirrors again, little deer," he orders, lowering one hand to slide a finger inside me so easily a second joins almost immediately. "Oh, you're so wet. So tight. My sweet, sweet girl."

I close my eyes and clench around him, but when he thrusts in, he draws back out in quick succession. I buck to chase the deep penetration. "That's it. You're doing very good." He pushes in again. "Do you want another finger?"

"Yes…" I barely manage to speak, laboured breath beating hard against his mouth.

"You're so greedy."

"You make me feel this way."

There is amusement in his voice as he says, "I know."

"What about you, Sir?"

"Your pleasure is for me." He adds a third finger and it's unbearably snug inside me, so when he starts to move all three with the talent of a well-oiled machine, I'm blanketed in stars. "I need to stretch you. You're tiny. You have a little hole and a small frame. Every time I fuck you, you end up sore, and I need your body ready to accept mine. I need you weeping the moment you feel me, hear me, see me. I need you ready to take me. You will be shaped to fit my cock, walking around with my cum filling your knickers?—"

My orgasm rips through me with a husky cry. "Oh." I pulse around his fingers as he rubs and wrings my climax from me. "Sir,sogood."

His cock bucks with bruising need between us, but he is the master of control, ignoring his obvious arousal. With the gentle massaging motion of his fingers sliding leisurely in and out of me, he brings me down from my second orgasm instead of thrusting into me like I know he wants. He hasn't taken me insuch a way in weeks. Not since I saw the recording and watched my body being used like a toy by my foster brothers.

I squeeze my eyes at the thought. Focus on him. He peppers kisses over my face as he says, "You haven't had many pleasures in your life, sweet girl. I promised to spoil you. I'll spoil your sweet pussy for attention."

I roll my head on the ottoman, groaning.

His kisses gently bring me down from the wave of pleasure I'm riding. They simmer with sentiment as my muscles unfurl and relax to the reverent affection.

Looking at him again, I tilt my head to see his are now closed, his dark brows pinched, his lips a tender rushing stream over my skin.

Then they are gone, and he is standing with me in his arms. A weightless extension of him. He walks me over to the bed and lays me down on the mattress, placing a hand either side of my head. And I know this routine.

"What will you do today?" he asks, and I deflate, knowing he'll be gone all day and I'll wait for him. "Don't look so sad, sweet girl."

I break our gaze, looking absently into a corner of the room. "What can I do?"

"Anything you want."

"You won't let me leave the house."

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