Page 141 of Can You Take It?

His movements stop for a minute. Is he judging me? Is he going to arrest me now that I’ve confessed? I didn’t want to hide it from him, but I didn’t want to confess like this either. I’m scared to look at him, so I keep my eyes on the ground.

Suddenly, he thrusts the candle painfully inside me, the flame almost touching my pussy lips, and let out a yelp.

“Are you scared now, Izel?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He thrusts the candle deeper. The heat is unbearable, yet addictive. “You either fear it, or you don’t. Which is it?”

“Fuck, Richard—please.”

My fingers twitch between us, itching to reach for any part of him, but they stay pinned.

“Please what?” His voice is cruel, mocking. His free hand trails down my stomach. “You want me to stop?”

“No.” The word escapes before I can think. I hate myself for it, but the truth is undeniable. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want him to fucking stop.

“That’s what I thought.”

He shifts the candle again, pressing the melted end deeper, and my pussy clenches hard. The flame dances dangerously close, a tease, a threat, and my body reacts with an urgency that leaves me breathless. My clit throbs, desperate for attention, and I know if I don’t come soon, I’ll break apart in a way that might leave me ruined.

“Touch yourself.” His grip loosens just enough, and I manage to slip one hand free. “Rub that cunt for me. I want to feel you drench this candle.”

I don’t hesitate. My hands find freedom and slide down between my thighs. The moment I touch my clit, a moan rips from my throat.

“That’s it,” Richard growls. “Look at you… a fucking mess. My mess.”

My fingers circle my clit faster, harder, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through me. I can feel the wax melting inside me, coating my walls, adding to the slickness that drips from me.

“You think you can come without putting that flame out?” His tone is a challenge, daring me to push further. “Prove me wrong. Or maybe…” He lets the words hang. “Maybe you like being a little too late. Maybe youwantto burn for me.”

“Richard—fuck—I can’t—”

“Trying isn’t good enough. You’ve got seconds, Izel. Make them count. Unless…” He chuckles low. “Unless you’re willing to gamble that I’ll stop it in time.”

A small voice in the back of my mind reminds me Richard wouldn’t actually let me get hurt, but I’m not about to test that theory.

I rub harder, faster, my moans turning to cries as I chase the release he demands. Just when I think I can’t, the flame licks at my entrance, and that’s it. I fall—no, I fucking crash—into oblivion, my body starts convulsing as pleasure blinds me. My pussy clenches hard around the candle, the flame flickers once, twice, then dies out as a gush of liquid bursts from me, drenching the candle, his hand, the couch.

When I open my eyes, my whole body is trembling in the aftermath of my orgasm. My gaze drops, and that’s when I see the mess. My thighs are soaked, the couch is drenched, and his hand… oh, God.

I fucking squirted.

My face burns hotter than the candle ever did. “Uh… I didn’t mean to—shit—I didn’t know I could—”

My words die on my tongue as his fingers dip down, sliding through the mess I’ve made. The slow, deliberate drag of his fingertips through my soaked thighs makes my entire body clench.

He pulls his hand up, the shine of my release glistening on his fingers under the dim light. My breath catches as he brings them to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste me. The sight is filthy, unapologetic, and so goddamn erotic it makes my pussy clench all over again.

His eyes stay locked on mine as he sucks his fingers into his mouth. His lips close around his fingers with a quiet, obscene groan.

“If you think that little mess is the end, you’re wrong, baby. I’m going to wring every last fucking drop out of you. So, get comfortable—or don’t. Either way, I’m not stopping until I’ve got nothing left to take.”

His hand wraps around the base of the candle and he pulls it out of me slowly. I gasp at the stretch as my walls clench around the absence. The moment it’s free, he tosses it aside carelessly, and I barely have time to register the loss before his hands are on me again. His hand snakes around my waist as he lifts me, turning me onto my stomach with a fluid motion. I’m kneeling on the couch now, my knees digging into the cushions while my torso drapes over the armrest. The position leaves me half on the couch and half dangling off it, my breasts brushing against the cool leather, and my ass pushed up into the air.

He adjusts me, making sure my pussy is perfectly aligned with the armrest. The pressure against my clit from the position is intense, a delicious friction that has me instinctively pushing back against him. I still when the cushion dips under his weight as he braces one knee on the couch. I can feel the heat of him, his chest brushing against my back as he aligns himself perfectlywith me. The extra pressure from the sinking cushion makes my clit grind harder against the armrest.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he murmurs against the shell of my ear. “Are you still scared of death?”

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