Page 41 of The Trick

Kneeling again by her partially spread thighs, I click my tongue. “I didn’t finish. See I know that our paths were meant to cross but I didn’t know why. But now I realize I was mistaken.”

“Well, I could have told you that, Boogeyman. I was never destined to be your fucking girlfriend if that’s what you thought,” she retorts, and like the good fucking slut she is, without me having to instruct her to, she takes her inked hand and moves the center of her bodysuit to the side, exposing her needy cunt to me.

“Go ahead,” she tilts her chin to the candle in my hand. “Bring another one of my fantasies to life like the well-researched stalker you are. Just be careful, you don’t want to burn her.”

“You’re wrong,” I quip, causing her brows to furrow.

“About what?”

“You were never destined to be my girlfriend. I followed you because you’re my curse. That’s what happens when you wish upon a devil. You’re bound to get burned.”

Her expression morphs to intrigue as she reaches for the candle in my hand. Carefully she brings the exposed flame near her mouth and with her gaze locked on me, she extends her tongue, extinguishing the flame. She hands me the unlit candle and my eyes zone in on the melted wax that pools near the center of the holder.

Bringing my hungry serpent’s tongue to her glistening slit, I press it into her wet pussy, reveling in the way an irrepressible moan breaks free from her. Slowly, I tilt my hand so the warmed wax drips close to where my tongue teases her.

“Go ahead, Boogeyman, burn me like I burned you.”

CHAPTER 17

If he seriously thinks licking me with his modified tongue is a form of punishment, he’s crazier than I thought. I just hope for his sake that the warmed wax he is currently pouring near his tongue is non-toxic. Then again, if it’s not, maybe the gods or Satan, whoever watches over me, is looking out so he will croak a slow, painful, death centered at the one place he was always pining to be…my pussy.

Talk about poetic.

I close my eyes, settling into the warring sensation he creates at my center. The separated pieces of his tongue heighten my every sense, making me feel like my body is succumbing to the devil himself and in this moment, with his mouth devouring me, I want nothing more.

With each lap of his forked tongue, it feels like there are two of him circling my clit, competing with one another, causing a fucking inferno of pleasure like I’ve never experienced before to burn through my spine.

Loud, uncontrollable moans slip from my mouth, one after the other, causing my breathing to become erratic. This is a power trip for him, because with each needy and sultry pant that escapes my lips, he picks up the tempo, making my thighs shake.

My knees become tingly and weak, yet I somehow muster enough strength to unintentionally clench my shaking thighs around his head. He appears to enjoy being suffocated by my wet center because the moan he expels, rivals my own as it vibrates my pussy, sending shock waves through my core. He hasn't been licking me for more than a few minutes and I already feel myself about to come. I maintain the tense hold I have around his head but as I arch my back, a bitter gust of open-air nips at where his fucking tongue should be.

My eyes jolt open to see him now standing before me with a sadistic grin smeared on his face. “What the fuck?” I exclaim. “You better be edging me and not just leaving me high and dry, asshole.” Frustration and aching need tangle within me, making my vision feel grainy.

“I’m leaving you the wet and needy little whore you are.” His words feel cold, harsh like a whip.

“I’m not a whore, asshole, I’m a dancer, there’s a difference.”

He points to the door, “to all those people out there you are a dancer but to me, you are a filthy, lying whore. My littlelyingwhore. Got it, Final Girl,” he sneers.

“What fucking ever, asshole. I’m done being your pet for the night. Thanks for the blue twat and third-degree burns” I huff, curling my fingers around the choker that I’m ready to rip from the stupid harness he gave me.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he reprimands.

I pause, still lingering my hand on the collar. “And why is that?”

He raises his ringed index finger. “Well for one, it’s not going to come off that easy, only this has the ability to take it off,” he says, swiping his inked thumb at the small and now very noticeable button that’s centered on the band.

“Seriously, it’s button controlled?” I ask, unimpressed.

“That’s not all it does,” he replies, cryptically, finger still hovering the button. “This can make you come, like you need to. That is, if you can follow my instructions.”

Is this guy serious?

“I don’t want to come,” I lie, because there is nothing that I want more than to have this swollen ache that lingers at my center relieved. However, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of my pleasure or an answer. Instead, I rise, planting my heels on the floor, and walk to where he stands with his mouth still exposed.

Straightening my spine, I nod to him, signaling that I’m tired of him and ready to go.

Lifting my heel off the ground I step forward only to be met with his large hand cupping my crotch.

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