Page 33 of Savage Assassin

What if he’s doing the same thing?

The image in my head is instantaneous, the thought of Levin standing in the bathroom, hand clutched around his cock as he strokes feverishly, imagining me. I think of the arousal I left on his trousers earlier, and I feel a flush of desire instead of shame, wondering if he was turned on by it. If he liked that he’d made me so wet.

The way he’d kissed me a little while ago suggests that he did.

I fight back another moan as I rub my finger over my clit, imagining that it’s his fingers instead. Better yet, histongue. I imagine it, as wet and hot as I am right now, sliding over my aching flesh, and I want so badly to know how it would feel. I want to know what it feels like for him to make me come with his tongue, his fingers, his–

My other hand slides down, fingertips parting my folds, and I imagine him seeing me like this, legs spread, my dress tangled around me, head thrown back in pleasure. I imagine him groaning softly, leaning forward, his cock rock-hard as he looked at me, and whispered how beautiful he thought I was. I slide my fingers around my entrance and imagine that it’s his thick cock, nudging up against me, on the verge of sliding inside. On the verge of teaching me what it would feel like, for the very first time.

I don’t go quite as far as pushing my fingers inside myself. I’ve never done that before. But I tease myself, there at the very brink, imagining his cock as I circle my clit faster, my breath coming in short, quick bursts as I think of him in the other room, hand gripping the edge of the sink as he strokes his cock, driving himself towards the same release that I so desperately need.

It might really be what he’s doing, and that only fuels my arousal. My back arches, hips grinding upwards into my hand, seeking more of the pleasure as I let my knees fall to either side, rubbing quick and fast. I want more, Ineedmore, and I slip the very tips of my two fingers inside of myself, just a little, imagining that it’s his cock nudging inside of me.

Just a little,I hear in my head, as if it’s his voice.Just let me feel you a little bit, princess. You’re so hot and wet and tight, and my cock aches for you. Just a little. I won’t come. I promise I won’t.

I imagine myself letting him. I remember how thick he felt when I sat in his lap, how huge, and I scissor my two fingers just inside of myself, imagining him stretching me open with just the swollen tip, nudging inside, promising me he’d keep control. Watching as I stroke my clit for him, his hand moving up and down his shaft, as I watch, too, just the head of his cock sliding in all that heated arousal that he’d created, taking just a little of his pleasure.

I won’t come,he’d promise me, but I’d see how difficult it is from the set of his jaw, from how tense he’d be.Just a little bit,he’d say, but I’d see how much he wants to keep going, to push the rest of that huge cock inside of me, opening me up, taking me for his own.

I’m getting close; I can feel it. My clit throbs under my fingertips, and I imagine feeling his cock throb inside of me, just the barest inch, as he touches himself too. I imagine those blue eyes fixed on mine, hungry and needing more, and I imagine him losing control, his hand stuttering on his cock as I clench around him, pulling out of me just in time to not come inside of me but not before he comesonme–

That’s what sends me over the edge. The thought of Levin losing control, his cock throbbing in his hand as his cum covers me, coating my thighs and clit and dripping down my pussy as I come for him, too, that’s all it takes to make my entire body seize with pleasure, clenching around my fingertips as I turn my face into the pillow to muffle the sounds, fingers flying over my clit as I come apart at the seams.

It’s better than any orgasm I’ve ever given myself before. I’ve been teased all night, shown sensations I’d never felt before. Now I finally get the relief I need, arousal dripping over my fingers as I come and come, muscles tight and body shaking with the spasms as I bite the pillow, shuddering through each wracking burst of my climax.

I forget that Levin could come out of the bathroom and catch me at any moment. I forget everything except the pleasure that I want to keep going on forever, the way it feels, the way my entire body seizes with it, until at last, I’m limp and gasping on the bed, flushed and hot and still shivering with the aftershocks of my violent release.

A few moments later, I hear the door to the bathroom click open, and my face heats all over again.

Could he hear me? Was he waiting for me to be finished? Is that why he took so long?

The idea that he wasn’t pleasuring himself, but fully aware that I was and waiting so as not to embarrass me, is more humiliating than I could possibly have anticipated. I shove my dress back into place as much as I can, tugging the covers up and trying to look as if I’m on the verge of falling asleep when he comes out, but I can’t discern from the look on his face whether he knows or not.

If anything, he looks as exhausted as I feel. He circles around to my side of the bed, jaw set in a way that’s beginning to be familiar to me as he looks down at me with some trepidation.

“Lay still,” he says calmly. “And I’ll fake the blood on the sheets.”

Levin

When I stalk into the bathroom, I’m so aroused that I can’t think straight.

I had to get away from her, put some space between us, or I would have done something that she would have regretted later. How could she not?

I’ve introduced her to things that she’s never felt before tonight, and she’s confused and curious. I can understand that. But it’s my responsibility to make sure it doesn’t go further than necessary, and I know that too.

I was brought here to keep her safe, not corrupt her. And I know all too well how even the beginning of something like this can complicate things beyond repair.

I can’t quell my arousal, though. My cock is so hard it aches, straining against the fly of my trousers. I grip the edge of the counter as I glare at myself in the mirror, trying to wrestle myself into submission, gritting my teeth against the waves of throbbing lust.

In the end, there’s really only one way to deal with it.

I undo my belt, thumbing the button open with a near-frantic desperation as I yank the zipper down and reach for my cock. It slips out instantly, hot and straining against my palm, and I hiss through my teeth as I wrap my hand around myself, desperate for the release I’ve needed all night.

Don’t think about her. Think about anything else.

I fucking try. I try to think of other women I’ve taken to bed, particularly hot porn I’ve watched, women I’ve lusted after but not managed to seal the deal with,anythingother than the gorgeous woman in the room on the other side of that door, because as far as I’m concerned, fantasizing about her while I stroke my cock is just as bad as walking in there and acting on the urge to fuck her until she screams my name.

Don’t think about her squirming on your lap. Don’t think about that little gasp she made when you touched her breast, or the way she moaned when you brushed your fingers over her nipple. Definitely, don’t think about how she was so wet that she covered you in it, soaked through your fucking pants, that the scent of her pussy is probably on your cock right now. Don’t think about the way she tasted when you kissed her, the way she wanted it, how soft she was, how fucking good it felt–

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