Page 96 of Kept in the Dark
Good. She is learning to be more direct and vocal about what she wants. I rumble my approval of her surrender, feeling how it vibrates mymouth against her sensitive skin. The flavor may be hard to describe, but the feeling is not. Her clit is a slick bump, much like the head of my own cock, only much smaller—like the tip of a nose, spongy and stiff, but pliable. It resists under the pressure of my tongue, popping back against my lips every time I release it. A button to press again and again.
Her noises are music to my ears, and I steal away the memory of each gasp and moan. I know now that the true signal of her impending orgasm is when her noises quiet and give way to heavy breaths of concentration. The high-pitched sounds help me find the preferred rhythm and place, but it is the silence afterwards and intense focus that tell me it is correct.
A light layer of sweat builds on the surface of her skin, and her muscles tense. She starts squeezing against me, as if she would press into my ears with her thighs. Her fingers continue to brush against my short hair, massaging my scalp mindlessly for something to do with her hands. My body answers with a shudder of its own, the sensation drawing downwards along either side of my spine. My cock is already hard against my leg, thick with desire for release—both from its prison of fabric, and the all-consuming need to come.
All the while, my tongue follows the pattern her body tells me it likes. If we were in our bed, and I could prop up her hips on a pillow, I would work in a finger or two to ensure she is open and ready for my cock. But the angle has her pelvis tilted down, and it would be too much pressure to work in a single finger. She is slick with her desire for me, but gravity is not working in our favor.
“Oh… my…” she breathes, and I must steady myself, as her excitement instinctively makes me want to move faster. “I’m… gonna…”
Her pussy clenches, tightening around nothing, and I can just see at the top of my field of vision how her stomach rolls and pulses with her release. She jerks, writhes, grabs my head even harder, and rides out the pleasure on my face like this was always her idea. I smile against her, slowing but maintaining contact as she comes down from the high.
As her body relaxes back, her legs falling loose in my arms and her hands folding across her stomach, she laughs and makes a pleased humming noise with an exhale. “That was really hot.”
“Da,”I agree, blowing some cool air against her clit and making her giggle. My cock is pounding so hard against my leg that it may explode, but there is not enough room to safely fuck her this way. It will be much easier if she gets up first, and I bend her over the bench.
“Da,”she repeats, and I can hear the smile. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure where you were going with this bar initially, but lying here and knowing I couldn’t sit up but not actually feeling the restraint of it was… I don’t know. Fucking incredible. I never thought I was that girl who wanted to be tied up.”
“I have no wish to tie you up,” I say simply. I lay her legs down one at a time, letting her get used to their weight again, and stand. As I walk around, I commit the sight of her to memory. She has not yet fixed her bra, and her breasts are flushed and covered with the same glistening sweat that is on the rest of her body.
“You don’t?” she asks, sounding somewhat disappointed.
“Rope is not in my style. I prefer a more… manual approach.” I remove one of the heavy plates and then the other, reaching down to lift the bar out of the way for her so she can roll up. When she turns back to look at me, I can see from her hazy, desire-filled eyes that she likes the distinction I have made. “You like to be handled by a man,da?”
She smiles, lifting one leg and bringing it around so she can stand. “You mean manhandled?”
“That is what I said.”
She shakes her head. “The words are the same, but the connotation is slightly different. But either way, you’re right. I think I do like being manhandled, but only if you’re the man doing it.”
“Good. Then bend over the bench. Let me show you the proper formfor—”
There is a buzzing against my leg. And then another. I curse.
“You want to get that?” she asks, glancing down at my pants.
No. I do not want to get that. I want to fuck her. I want to never stop fucking her. “I should. It is usually important.” I have to add the qualifier because sometimes it is very much not, like a picture of James’s dinner or a sports match update from Wesley that I do not care about. Whenever they get too off-topic, I leave the group chat.
I reach towards her, and she comes, as if pulled by an invisible force. Wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, I tilt her head and kiss her. The flavor of her, still on my lips, changes as she licks against the seam of my mouth. I pull back and tilt her head down to kiss her forehead, then let her go to dig in my pocket.
As she finds her shorts on the floor and struggles to pull them on over her shoes, I scan the message. “It is… very important. Shit. I must go.”
“It’s fine,” she assures me, smiling. “I’ll just finish down here.”
Fueled by irritation at the interruption, I take the stairs two at a time. Wesley pauses with his drink halfway to his mouth when he sees me in the doorway of his office. “You look… more pissed off than usual,” he begins, glancing up and down with a curious frown. “Did I interrupt your workout?”
“Different kind of exercising, I think, Wes. Didn’t you hear them going at it like rabbits down there?” James says from behind me. I spin, moving aside to allow him through the doorway and then following him inside. The smell of coffee wafts behind him, and he salutes me with the mug as he settles into his chair.
I scowl at him. I do not wish for Nicole to be embarrassed that the others heard us. “We were not—”
“Don’t bother denying it, Big D. The chandeliers were shakin’,” he continues with a wink aimed at me.
Unlikely. They are bolted in. “Wewere not—”
Wesley groans. “In the gym, Dimitri? The gym wealluse? Ugh. You’d better sanitize everything.”
“Why? Your OCD ass is just going to clean it again,” James quips. “And he’s far from the first to christen the gym. One time, Eleanor and I—”
“Animals. Both of you.”
