Page 75 of Don't Make Me Beg
I’m so desperate to tear off this blindfold and watch him fall apart, but he told me not to stop, and I’ve never wanted to please anyone more than I do right now. So I resist the urge, feeling my head grow more and more floaty as I fall back into that blissful darkness where nothing else exists.
“You’re such a good fucking slut aren’t you, baby? You’ll do anything I tell you to do, won’t you?”
I choke out a strained moan as his sweet, filthy words drag me right back to the edge. My legs start to quiver as another orgasm rises to the surface. This time, I dip my fingers back inside, curling them until I find that delicious spot again.
I’m already so sensitive, my body so turned on, that it doesn’t take long. I move my fingers in a steady rhythm, fighting through the cramp in my hand until I’m right back to that blissful place. Warmth pools in my belly as everything in the world disappears. Then I’m falling once more.
“Oh, God. Luka, I’m coming,” I moan as another wave of ecstasy rips through me.
“Goddammit, Scout. You make me lose my fucking mind. Fuck, these pretty tits are going to look so sexy with my cum dripping off them.” He chokes out another groan, and I arch my back, needing him to give me just that.
“Fuck,” he hisses, and then I feel the hot ropes of his release. He paints me with his warm cum, coating me everywhere from my stomach to my breasts, all the way up my neck.
I’ve never felt so dirty, so far from the good girl image I’ve always been known as. And somehow, I’ve never felt more beautiful.
The relief comes all at once, like a tsunami tearing down twenty-five years of programming, crashing and destroying everything in its path.
Luka gently peels the shirt from my eyes and helps me sit up just as a sob—sparkling with all my fractured beliefs—bursts out of me, erupting like a shaken can of soda.
I have no idea why I’m reacting like this. I’m not sad—definitely not. Maybe overwhelmed? I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now. Maybe it’s everything at once, all crashing inat the same time, and my body just doesn’t know what else to do but cry.
“Oh, baby, come here.” He pulls me into a hug, and I feel so small as he tucks me against him. I bury my face into his neck. “Are you hurt or upset?” he whispers against my ear as he brushes a hand over my hair in a soothing motion. He smells like aftershave and smoke, and I nuzzle my face against his rough jaw and breathe him in.
“Try to answer me, Scout. Use your words, baby. I need you to tell me if you’re okay,” he croons as he pulls me away so he can look at me.
I wipe my tears with the back of my hand and give him a nod. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so emotional right now. I’m fine, I just…” I bite my lip before I’m hit with another wave of tears.
Luka’s lips curve into the faintest smile, just as his thumb catches a tear slipping down my cheek—like even this ache is something he treasures. “Hey, don’t apologize. That was an intense release. Sounds like you needed it.”
I look down at my transparent lace bra, which is now wet and sticky with jizz, and I suddenly feel embarrassed for getting the mess all over him, too. “Sorry.” I try to cover myself with my arms, but Luka slaps my hands back down, his smile now turning into a look of disappointment.
“Don’t even think about obstructing the best goddamn view I’ve ever seen.” His nostrils flare as his eyes take in my messy chest, and then he’s on his feet, shaking his head as he heads toward the door. “Shit, you’ve already got my dick getting hard again. Be right back.”
I watch him disappear, then take the moment alone to look at myself. My nipples are hard and aching, and my breasts are coated in his cum that’s starting to dry sticky on my skin. My panties are beyond damp from my own arousal, and I can’t even imagine what my face must look like. There’s nothing prim andproper about any of this. I’ve never felt so dirty, so vulgar, and I can’t help but wonder what other dirty things Luka could get me to do…
“Here, I brought you another change of clothes. Let me help clean you up.” He drops to his knees once again, and I don’t argue as he carefully wipes my chest with the warm, wet washcloth. His movements are slow and deliberate, as if he takes extra pride in cleaning up his mess. I don’t know why, but the simple gesture feels more nurturing than anything I’ve ever felt before.
I should feel embarrassed by all of this, but instead, I’m allowing him to clean his cum off my boobs. Like this is something friends do all the time.
He turns his head as I remove my dirty undergarments and pull a clean t-shirt over my head. It’s an old band t-shirt that I recognize from high school. The fabric is soft and worn, and it smells like laundry detergent.
I don’t know why I allow him to dress me, maybe because he looks like he needs it more than I do. Maybe it’s because it feels nice having someone care for me in a nurturing way.
After I’m all clean, he scoops me up and carries me to the sofa, where he sits down and pulls me into his lap. His arms are so heavy and warm, and I savor the feeling of comfort and safety as we sit like that in silence, both lost in the reflection of what just happened.
“Holy shit! Do you know what this means?”
“What?” I sit up and meet his eyes.
His face breaks into a giant grin as he says, “Looks like I won the bet.”
I slap his chest and roll my eyes, but I’m too spent to fight with him right now. So instead, I lay my cheek against his shoulder, feeling more exhausted than I’ve ever felt.
Luka must notice because his strong arms wrap around me, and he squeezes me tight. And the next thing I know, the tears are back, pouring out like I’ve just opened the floodgates.
“Shh. I’ve got you. You’re safe and everything is going to be okay,” he assures me over and over as he peppers kisses on the top of my head.
And every time I try to apologize, he stops me, telling me it’s totally normal.
