“Say it,cara.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I trust you, and I’ll try.”
He places a soft kiss my buttock, and at the same time he eases his finger forward to sink it deep in my unresisting arse.
“Oh!” I can’t help my exclamation of surprise.
“See. Not so bad, with a bit of preparation. Now, shall we have some fun?”
He shifts his body closer, nudging his knees under my thighs to lift me from the bed. He arranges my legs on either side of his waist, spreading me wide, then reloads his finger.
He slides it back into me, slowly but surely, swirling it around inside my channel, then back and forth as though to assert his dominance.
I sink into the unexpected pleasure, letting out a contented moan.
“That feels good?”
I try nodding again, but he’s having none of it. “Say it, if you would. I want to be sure.”
“It feels good,” I assure him. The understatement of the century. It feels fucking wonderful, deliciously sensual and delightfully wicked. I never knew it could be like this, had no inkling…
He eases his other hand between my thighs and finds my clit. It takes no more than a couple of strokes across the quivering tip to propel me to the brink of orgasm.
“Oh, I’m going to come,” I blurt.
His finger abandons my clit, and his other hand stills in my arse, but he doesn’t remove it.
“Take a few deep breaths and calm down.”
“I can’t,” I groan.
“Yes, you can. Breathe in, then out. And again. Tell me when you’ve got yourself under control and you’re ready to continue.”
Under control? Christ.
But, somehow, I do as he says. My throat is thick with arousal, my stomach fluttering, every nerve ending on red alert. But eventually, I think I can manage to…
“I’m okay now.”
“Sure?”
“I… I think so. But?—”
“If you feel yourself losing control again, tell me.”
“I will. But, I need to come.”
“Yes, of course. When it’s time.”
“When will that be?”
“When I say so. When we’ve played a while.”
“I’m not sure I like this game,” I mutter mutinously.
“Do you want to stop?”
“No! No.” I shake my head emphatically. “Please, don’t stop.”