Page 16 of Taming His Rockstar

I’m busy trying to get my dress off because I now want his head between my legs. I reach for the zip behind my dress and pull it down. Then pull it over my head as I drop it to the side. I hear him catch his breath as he stares at what I have on under the dress. Pink lace bra and thong, complete with sheer stockings.

“Boy, you did not come to play.” His voice has gone from deep to tortured. Still, he doesn’t stand from the couch or make any moves to come closer to me. He just sits there, legs spread with his erection straining against his zipper. “Take it all off.”

“No.” I’m as surprised by my refusal as he appears to be, but I don’t take it back. “I took off one of mine. Now take off one of yours.”

“You think this is a game, don’t you?”

“Isn’t it?” I ask, pushing my hands between my legs and slowly rubbing. I pull it back up wet and dripping. Then as I hold his eyes, I slowly thrust that finger into my mouth and suck.

He rises to his feet and stares at me. “Wrong move, Kitty.” He moves toward me, stalking me like a jungle cat. “See, you just took what was mine and put it into your mouth without my permission. Wrong move. If I didn’t want to fuck you so bad, I’d bend you over this couch and spank you.”

I roll my eyes at him. “All talk, no—”

“Finish that word, and the first time you cry this night won’t be because I have my tongue between your legs.” He finally gets to me and stares down at me. “Still, something tells me you’d enjoy that as well.”

Before I can say anything, he whips off his shirt and drops it to the side. I have a moment to admire the broad expanse of his chest before he crushes me to his body, his thighs thrusting into me as he kisses me long, deep, and hard. I hear a small click before my bra falls off. Feel the cold kiss of air on my nipple before one of his hands closes over it, and he begins to rub. And just while my brain is scrambling to process all of that, his hand pushes between my thighs to stroke me over my panties.

I’m going to come. I swear, I’m going to. Right before he leans over and whispers into my ear, “Remember the plan, honey? You don’t come unless it’s with my tongue licking at your cunt. Question is, do you think you can last that long?”

It’s a challenge. I hate that I’ve never learned to back down from a challenge even when to do so will be for my own good. Like now. I can ignore him and just let go, experience the orgasm I feel battering down at my gate. But no, I stiffen my spine and refuse to lose. I moan low when I feel his thumb circle my pebbled nipple, whimper when he forms a V with his fingers and strokes my folds between them, and almost lose it when he leans down and sucks on my neck. He’s good. I have to admit that. He’s very good. His self-control also seems to be made of steel. Because while I moan and whimper, he’s not completely unaffected. His breath grows harsh and there’s no way I can miss his cock pushing against my thighs.

It’s hard to tell how long we stand there, his hands on my breast, between my legs, and me straining to hold back an orgasm that’s now starting to feel more like torture than pleasure. All I know is that I can’t take it anymore, and soon, I start to ride his hand, and that’s when he begins to play the chicken game, giving me just enough to keep me high but never enough to tip me over. Just enough to drive me crazy. I twist and writhe, pushing into his hand and hope to get something more. But the lace that separates his hand from my dripping clit now seems like a twelve-inch bar of metal. Unable to take it anymore, I reach for his hand and grab it, ready to force it past and through.

“What do you want?” he whispers in my ear, his hand going still.

“I want to come,” I reply in a shaky voice.

“What’s the magic word?” he asks, his voice smug.

I’m way past caring. “Please,” I beg unashamedly. “I want to come.”

“Good Kitty,” he replies as he swings me on his arm and carries me to the couch.

He lays me down and then places his body over mine, his eyes looking into me as he begins to kiss me again. I kiss him back and reach down to put his hand between my legs. I need to feel him there again. He obliges me, stroking still above my panties as his hand slowly works around the edge, but not close enough to where I want him to be.

“God, you’re dripping.”

“And whose fault is that?” I retort, both squirming as I slowly rock into his hand.

“You feel that?” he asks, his hand pulling at the gusset of my panties. “I bet if I made you sit above my head, I could make you drip into my mouth.”

That image has me so aroused. I’m ready to push him to the floor and test that theory out. Me riding his face to orgasm.

“Please,” I plead, unable to take his teasing anymore. “I can’t hold it . . .” I blindly fumble between my legs. “Please, make me come.”

“How Kitty?” he asks, his voice dark and sexy. “How do you want me to make you come?”

I’ m way past being modest. Not that I was ever modest to begin with. But I know what he’s doing. He’s making me beg. Asserting his dominance. I’m way past caring about that too. If anything, it’s part of the reason why I’m going crazy. I prayed for a man who knew to take in charge in bed, and now that I found one, he’s threatening to drive me crazy with pleasure.

“I want you to put your mouth between my legs. Make me come with your tongue . . . Please,” I add, so he won’t waste another second asking me to do that.

“With pleasure,” he replies.

He slowly kisses his was down my body, his hand still working between my legs as he tortures me more. I whimper and writhe on the couch, promising myself that the next time I pray for a miracle I’ll make sure to be explicit enough. Then I feel the heat of his breath right above my panties, right before he leans down and takes my clit into his mouth.

I explode. It’s the only way I can describe it. Like he’s detonated a dynamite of pleasure, starting right from the spot his tongue made contact with my clit until it envelopes my whole body, redefining what I used to think pleasure was and showing me that he’s right in making me work this hard for it. For this sensation, I’d climb Everest on bare hands.

I’m slowly coming down from a high I’ve never, ever felt before when I look down to find Jake staring at me. He looks so smug I want to punch him.

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