Page 13 of Room 13: Bred By the Bears

“If I put my hand down these panties, will I feel the beginning sprouts of a hairy cunt?”

The grooming rules. He’d been thinking about them too. Did he have a similar reaction when thinking about those rules as I did? While I hadn’t tended to any clean up regarding shaving or waxing in the past two days, it hadn’t really been because of their hairy pussy rule. More a preoccupation with all of the ways that they’d taken my world and doused it in full HD technicolor. I felt off kilter, disorientated, and so deeply satisfied I doubted my own feelings.

I watched him gather the fabric of my dress in his hand, the hem lifting higher and higher on my thighs before lifting above my panty line. He held it in place with his wrist, pressing his fingers beneath the elastic, and pressing them down to my cleft.

“I take back what I said.” He rumbled against my ear, “You aren’t naughty at all.”

My whole mound fit in the palm of his work roughened hand. The calloused pads of his fingers creating the tiniest bite of abrasion that awakened all of those nerves. And they all begged in time to the beat of his name.Ryker.Ryker. I fought against the need to spread my legs and open myself up for him. So he could inspect me further. Note the wetness that gathered there. Play in it. Run his fingers through it. Rub the stiffened nub that hardened just for him.

“When is the next time you plan to be at the Club?” he asked ghosting his finger across my clit.

“I don’t have a set schedule.” I sighed, pressing my pussy into his hand, trying to force him to give me a more meaningful stroke against that needy little button.

“Make one.”

He pulled the shoulder of my dress down with his other hand. The moment the skin of my shoulder and neck were exposed enough to suit his intentions, he affixed his lips where my neck met my shoulder, and he bit down. Hard enough to pull a gasp-like yelp from me, but not enough that it caused genuine pain.

“Thursday?” I suggested. Maybe five strokes and he’d tip me into orgasm. The last thing in my mind was my calendar and social obligations. I threw the day out randomly. Hoping if I gave him any answer at all, he’d be satisfied.

“Too far away. Tonight?”

“I don’t know if I can. I can’t remember what I have planned.”

“What would it take to get you to cancel whatever plans you have?” he asked. “If I got on my knees and ate you to a screaming orgasm…would that be enough? If I tongued that asshole of yours, gave you your first hint of dark pleasure.”

Rather than wait for a response, he removed his pocket square, and pressed it between my lips.

“Don’t let that square go. In a minute, you’re gonna need it. Unless you want to have the whole hotel hear you scream. I’m not opposed, but I know you want to maintain professionalism.”

He dropped to his knees and yanked my panties down to my thighs. He directed me over the sink counter, roughly separating my legs, manhandling me into a position he deemed appropriate. And dove in.

My spine liquified, rolling up in greeting to the scandalous pleasure Ryker’s tongue drew out of me. He licked and sucked at my clit, rolling it against his warm, wet tongue, before lapping up my slit, pressing deep into my channel and spending long moments exploring. My legs opened in hedonistic welcome. Most of my body weight pressed against the modern farmhouse sink, the exceedingly expensive Brèche du Bénou marble they’d imported from France pressed against the satin and lace of my bra, all the while Ryker grunted bestial noises that vibrated into my pussy and against my clit.

The very second his dark promise swirled in my conscious thought, I felt his tonguethere. The place Obsidian had touched. The one that Armel sussed out no one explored before. The pleasured rumble that rolled up my throat and around the pocket square between my lips was a sound I’d never heard myself make. It rung with a dark, taboo thrill I wanted to hear over and again.

“Can you come from this?” Ryker asked, inserting his fingers into my pussy, twisting them in search of my elusive g-spot. “Will I be the first man to make you blow from licking this little hole?”

He flicked my clit, mimicking the same speed and pressure of his tongue against that wrinkle. My mind short circuited. Dark, spinning pleasure spun inside of me. The energy from that bliss doubling and tripling, tripping every thought in my brain faster than it could surface. There was no space for worry. No thoughts of propriety, or the risk of someone walking in and seeing a man crouched in a custom-made suit that cost more than nearly every employee in the hotel’s biweekly paycheck, licking and sucking at my untried asshole as I bent over their very expensive sink.

He shoved his thumb deep into my pussy, never losing his focused manipulation against my clit.

“You’re gonna explode, sweet thing. I can feel the walls of this cunt sucking at my thumb. Remember, people can hear you scream. I don’t give two shits about who hears, but since that sweet blush of yours still shows through your flush of desire, I’d say you might. Ruin that pocket square. I want you to absolutely destroy it with how hard you bite down on it. Because I’m about to slingshot you into the stratosphere.”

He lied. I saw the exit for the stratosphere and couldn’t find the brakes. He flung me to the deepest part of space. Untethered and without apology.

nine

Tryingto focus on work was nearly impossible. Just like Obsidian and Ryker, my thoughts continually drifted toward our night with Miele. It was as if my entire work day stuttered and stalled refusing to progress with any kind of normal pace. Read an email, spend fifteen minutes thinking about how wide her throat opened when Obi made her come. Reply to the email while remembering the tight grip of her spasming pussy. Sit on the fourth Zoom meeting of the day while thinking about how soft her hair was, and how great it would look wrapped around my hand while I pressed my cock between her pretty mauve lips.

Why hadn’t she called? There was chemistry between the four of us. Something that should be explored not ignored.

“Have Armel research that.” My boss said in our meeting. “He’s great at chasing down details.”

Chase. I sure loved a good chase. Copper hair, caught in the wind, like a cape fluttering behind her as she ran, looking nervously over her shoulder while she sprint, barefoot through the marshland. The wet slap, slap of her feet as she hitched this way and that, over the well-worn paths and the muddy banks.

When I finally caught her, she’d yelp like a wounded animal, fighting even as I brought her down in a soft tackle, rolling on top of her, biting against her skin as turned her over, pulled her ass up into the air, and buried my cock in her needy cunt. She’d claw at the grass, try to top me, to throw me off, and best me. And only when the first pleasured thrusts hit her nervous system would she finally submit to me. Her body would soften, her hips would open in welcome, her pussy would suck at my tip, begging for my cum. When I finally blew, unloading into her, I’d mark her as mine for the world to see.

“Bardot, you with us?”

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