Page 80 of Untether

The lighting in his dining area is dim. That said, I feel exposed like this. Exposed and hopelessly excited as Cal’s hands roam over my skin, exploring my body, mapping its curves and indents and joints. My arms are looped loosely around his neck, so when he drags his hands up my sides, my breasts are right there for the taking.

I need his hands on me so, so badly. I need him to strummy nipples, to pull at them with greedy tugs of his fingers. His teeth. I need him to run his knuckles through my centre and learn for himself how wet I already am. I can feel my arousal so distinctly in this position, with my legs spread open for him and my pussy on display. Even if I’m slightly more elevated than him, it still feels arousingly debased to be seated this way. I’m like a plaything spread wide for his pleasure, to toy with and tease should he be so inclined.

And if I’m the plaything, he’s the young, entitled master, used to getting whatever he wants, answerable to no one, and breathtaking in his own sensual brand of arrogance.

‘Cup your tits for me,’ he drawls, and I do as he says, holding my breasts up on a platter, my poor, needy nipples pointing straight at him.

‘Fuck, yeah,’ he says, then brushes a fingertip over each of them in tandem. I jolt, because they’re so sensitive already, and inhale through my teeth. I’d give anything for him to dip that dark head of his, and latch on, and suck for dear life.

‘How badly do you want my mouth on them?’ he asks, because clearly he’s a mind-reader.

I shudder. ‘So badly.’

‘Hmm.’ He plays with them for a moment, teasing with his fingers, rolling and pinching them into impossibly stiff little nubs. ‘Your nipples are so fucking perfect. But all in good time.’

He keeps ahold of one while he trails his other hand down over my stomach. I tense with need as he nears my pussy. Then he’s right there, those calloused knuckles I wished for dragging through my slickness, and it’s like they ignite every single nerve ending they graze.

‘Oh, God,’ I say involuntarily. ‘Shit, that feels amazing.’

‘So fucking wet,’ he says, letting his forehead drop to mine. ‘Take me out, love.’

51

AIDA

“Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.”

—Milton,Paradise Lost

Iscramble to do as he says, tugging at his belt buckle and getting the zipper of his jeans down over his huge bulge. I free his dick from above the waistband of his boxer briefs, registering how huge and hot and hard he feels.

‘Okay,’ he breathes against my mouth. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. You need to get off, dirty girl, so you’re gonna use my dick to do it. I’ll hold your greedy cunt wide open.’

Holy crap. I don’t need to be told twice. I release my breasts and wrap an arm around his neck for stability as I nudge my body further up his thighs, lining up the engorged, weeping head of his cock with my poor clit, and holy fuck. That first slick sweep of his wet, swollen flesh against mine must be the work of angels, and the sensationof his strong fingers prising me as open as humanly possible for him feels as filthy as it does right.

I cry out and shudder, letting my head fall to the crook of his neck as I drag him greedily down to my entrance, where I let him pulse for a moment before pulling him back up to find my clit.

‘That’s it,’ he hisses. ‘Yes. Fucking go for it. Use me like you’d use my tongue if I was down there eating you.’

And I do. I really do go for it. I slide him back and forth over my clit like the most delicious vibrator as his fingers hold me open and his other hand works my nipple with tweaks that bring pain and arousal coursing through my breast in equal measure.

God, I’m close. This feels filthy and wanton, straddling his lap and rubbing myself with his gorgeous dick. My breath gets more fevered as I grow more desperate, more greedy for my impending orgasm. But just as I’m entering the extreme pleasure zone, Cal releases the lips of my pussy and covers the hand on his dick with his own, effectively withdrawing my personal sex toy from me.

‘What are you doing?’ I gasp blindly, lifting my face from where it’s been drooling on his shoulder so I can see him. His grin is that of a man in pain, but there’s a sadistic element there that I’ve learnt too quickly does not bode well. Uh oh.

‘Giving you a grand finale,’ he says. He lifts my hand off his dick and puts it on my pussy. Even my own touch has me shivering with want. ‘Feel how wet that cunt is. You need more friction.’

‘No, I’m fine,’ I insist. I want my magical Cal-shaped wand back, goddammit.

‘Here’s what you’re going to do,’ he says, blithely ignoring my protest. ‘You’re going to get on one thigh andrub yourself against my jeans, and it’ll be fucking spectacular for you. Imagine how good this rough denim’s gonna feel against your poor, swollen clit. And if you ride my thigh nicely like a good girl, I’ll work your tits so hard you could come from that alone. Got it?’

I shoot him a look so mutinous that any self-respecting man would roll over, but he just laughs.

‘You’re my favourite little hellion. Come on, sweetheart. Ride me like the needy little whore you are right now.’

If I was any less turned on, I’d be second guessing myself, because this is way out of my comfort zone. But, happily for him, I need this orgasm so fucking badly I’ll do anything, including give him the cheap little show he desires.

Besides. Much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. Between my arousal and his, things were getting way too slick down there. I need serious friction to scratch my itch properly, and now he’s made his filthy suggestion, my poor, orgasm-starved mind is singularly fixating on just how good it will feel to rub myself against that denim.

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