Page 90 of Maneater
“Oh, fuck, Rowan,” I groan, and when he moans against me, I come again, this time harder and faster, the heat washing over me for a moment but somehow leaving even less relief. “Rowan!” I cry as his relentless torture of my clit continues, extending the orgasm or maybe just adding a second onto the end of it. I’m losing track of reality as pleasure rolls through me, over and over.
Finally, when I think I might break, he relents, sitting back on his heels to gaze over my body. My chest is heaving, my mind is muddled, my body is a mess. Meanwhile, he sits there completely dressed, though the hard bulge in his slacks at least tells me he’s torturing himself as much as he is me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks as I try and catch my breath,and it takes a moment for my brain to come back to this orbit, to understand there was a question at all.
“Wha…?” I pant.
“What are you doing here? At the Daydream Resort?”
My mind tumbles as I try to figure out what he means and what he’s saying before I remember our game. Finally, my senses start to return, and my training kicks in, falling back on the story we’ve told everyone.
“A girls’ trip with Rory,” I say.
His big hand moves to the path of skin, using my knee, and wraps there, his thumb swiping rhythmically over the soft skin of my inner thigh, a taunt as he shakes his head. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”
My pulse pounds. “Yes, it is,” I insist.
He looks at me with a fake-sad smile and shakes his head before his mouth drops to my clit again, sucking hard, tongue moving against my swollen bud as two fingers fuck me. It builds so fast, I can’t breathe, and right as I almost fall, he stops.
“Rowan, please,” I whine, and he looks up at me, assessing.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, all seduction and needling gone from his tone. His eyes meet mine, and I see it there: the desire, the intrigue, but also the caring.
He isn’t just asking if I want to be untied, if I want to be released and have full control of my body once again. He’s asking if I want him to stop his line of questioning, if I want him to drop it.
And something tells me that just as he told me, when he tied me to his bed, he would stop as soon as I asked, and he wouldn’t question me again, not until I was ready to confess it all.
But I am ready.
Not only do I trust him implicitly and want to have this lie between us no longer, but both his boss and mine have given me the go-ahead to let him into my biggest secret.
“No,” I whisper in answer, and his smile widens with understanding. Then he moves back to teasing me, pinching my clit before fingering me.
“Tell me you’re not here just for a vacation, and I’ll give you a prize,” he promises, his eyes dark and fixed on mine, his hand moving to cup his cock and shift it. The pleasure is cresting, the need almost tangible as my body rocks and shifts to no avail. I want to touch him. I want him to fuck me. I want him to take me, finally, and I think if I give him this, I might just get it.
So I break, if only in a small way. “I’m not here for vacation!” I shout, and he smiles down at me.
“Good girl. Now for your reward.” I wait for him to stand, to undress and fill me, but he doesn’t. Instead, his head drops to watch as he fingers me hard and fast, focusing on my G-spot with vigor. But right before I come, he stops, moving to my clit, rubbing fast and hard. A new kind of pleasure builds, a pressure I can’t explain or control. Soon I’m panting his name, my body shaking, but once again, as I tip on the edge, he changes it, moving back to fingering me.
“Rowan!” I shout in protest and anger, but the man laughs.
“Trust me, Josie. I’m going to give you something so good,” he says, a promise I can’t deny in his words. His jaw is slackened as he watches my pussy with anticipation, and a hand moves to my lower belly, pressing a bit as he fingers me.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” I groan, almost animalistically, as a wet sloshing sound comes from between my legs.
“There you go, baby, just like that,” he says. That pressure builds and grows, and panic inevitably follows.
“Rowan,” I whine, but he smiles wider.
“I know, Troublemaker, let it happen. Let me take care of you,” he whispers, right before moving his hand, straightening it, and sliding the bottom of his finger over my swollen clit hard and fast until the pressure peaks and I come. As I do, a gush of liquid leaves me, and I scream at the sensation. Distantly, I hear Rowan groan in admiration. He keeps rubbing, slower and softer as I ride it out and come back down to earth.
“Now that wasn’t too hard, was it?” he asks, rubbing my wetness into my skin. It feels like it’s everywhere, the bed soaked with myorgasm, and I know that this man just made me squirt for the first time.
And I kind of want to beg him to do it again.
Rowan gently slides a finger inside of me, watching as my body greedily takes him once more. “God, you get even prettier every time you come, you know. And this,” he says, then pulls his fingers out before rubbing the whole of his hands over my pussy, palm on my entrance, fingers grinding over my clit. I let out a ragged moan as need somehow creeps back into my veins slowly. “Gets pinker and pinker. Wetter and wetter. Are you going to be satisfied if I don’t fuck you tonight?”
I shake my head and whine.
