Page 40 of His Pretty Little Duet

"Tell me how that feels?"

I suck a sharp breath in. "Good. Strange."

"Back and forth, sweet girl. Don't be embarrassed by what you're doing. You have no idea how pretty it is to watch."

I arch involuntarily when a buzz of sensation flares through me. I almost stop to allow my mind time to comprehend it, but don't. Instead, I glide my fingers through the slick valley, wrestling the embarrassing hum that vibrates in my chest.

“Relax... And now that your fingers are beautifully wet, be my good girl, and slide them inside so I can see your pussy open and swallow them.”

I moan at his words, now leaping off the edge of respectable decorum without reservation, with little reprieve, not caring how wrong it is to be doing this in front of him. He makes it feel okay.

He makes it feel safe.

And I’m fuelled by the need to feel the simmer turn to a boil. Sliding a finger inside, I feel the clasping of muscles inside me. I didn't know they did that. It's as though I don't have any control. As though I'm fighting with my own body.

"Twist against your pussy, sweet girl. That is where you'll find your pleasure."

I turn my fingers and mewl and wriggle my backside, not caring that he's behind me, watching. A shiver of thrill prickles up my spine, up my neck. My nipples chaff on the cushion, the friction like little electric shocks, the sensation rushing down my inner thighs to my clit.

“Swallow two fingers."

As I slide a second finger inside, rocking back and forth, my mouth opens, expelling the strained moans I am fighting to suppress.

"Fuck.Sit back on them. You'll like that."

I sit backwards on my hand, taking both digits inside, circling them as the sensation grows. Then I lift my hips, pulling them out but as soon as they are, I'm desperate for the feel of them filling me again.

I start to ride my fingers for him. It feels primal—innate—to do this. Like my body knows what I don't. And in my mind,I imagine they are his fingers pushing into me, taking me, bringing me pleasure.

“God, oh God,” I whimper the words aloud, but inside my head I moanhisname.Clay.My fingers lose precision as my body shudders, pleasure building.

"Don’t you dare stop. You'll feel like you want to, but don't... That's a good girl. You're doing so good. Twist your fingers. Curl them. Explore. When you find a little tongue inside you, rub it until you feel it beating back. That is where you will find your release.”

I do as he tells me, seeking the place that’ll finish this extraordinary growing sensation. I find the muscle, thrusting deeper on a groan and stroking it hard.

"Good girl. You’re such a good girl for listening. Do you enjoy fucking yourself in front of me, my pretty deer?"

“Yes," I whisper, wishing he would take me from behind, steal the control from me so I can relent and collapse and just feel.

"Yes, what?"

I moan, my sex rippling. “Yes,Sir," I say, filling the room with my panting, my whimpering, the sound of my fingers sliding in and out.

Somewhere inside my hazy edged mind, I hear him shuffle. “Look at you. I have never seen such apretty little thing.And here you are under my roof." His tone drops. "While you're in my house, you are to touch no one, and you best not let anyone touch you, or you'll be mourning them from the banks of Stormy River. Have I made myself clear?"

I cry out as wave upon wave of pleasure moves up my body in response to his possessive utterance. Pleasure blooms in my toes, my thighs. I want to stop because it's in my ears, too, everywhere. "I'm so hot."Is this normal?"Is this normal?"

"Completely natural, little deer. Don't stop."

“Yes, Sir.”

“Come for me. Now.”

At his command, a pulse of sensation explodes around my fingers. A torrid surge crashing together as I rub and rub and mewl and shamelessly grind.

It's scary.

It's incredible.

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