Page 8 of The Diamond Thief
“Touch yourself,” I say. “Just before orgasm. Don’t go over the edge.”
She pauses for a moment, but before I can reprimand her, her fingers slide inside her body.
I unbutton my shirt as she moves, her thighs flexing, her arms quivering, small sounds escaping her mouth.
I lean back on the bed, loosening my belt, already thinking of what I can do with it. I don’t generally get into rough play, not since my encounter years ago with the red-haired lovely I could never shake, but something about this one makes me want to subdue her. It’s that connection I feel. It throws me off balance. My desire for her commands all my attention.
Her breath speeds up, her fingers moving more quickly between her legs.
She’s getting close. I wonder if she will stop as I have commanded, or if she will not be able to do so. I slide the belt from my pants and stand over her.
“Do not orgasm without me,” I say. I smack her lightly on the perfect tan ass with the loop of the belt.
She sucks in a breath and another more strangled groan escapes her. I’ve accelerated her need. She likes this.
My cock is painful in my trousers, straining toward her. But I control it, like I control her. I smack her again on the other perfect cheek.
“I’m going to —“
“No talking.”
I strike her a third time, right where the pink has just begun to develop on the first side. Another startled cry. I can see her pussy quivering. She loves this. How perfect.
Her fingers slow in their movements. Her teeth bite hard on her lip as she struggles for her own control.
“You may stop,” I say, smiling inwardly at how incredibly well we fit, my urge to subdue her, and her erotic response.
Her hand withdraws, but her entire body shivers.
“Crawl onto the bed, slowly.”
She nods and turns toward it. She places her knee up on the bench, displaying the bright glistening pink to me once again. She brings up the other knee. Her thighs are perfect in the silky stockings, the stilettos so pointed they could pierce a wall.
My control evaporates. I jerk my pants open, shoving the boxers out of the way. I snatch a condom from the small table beside the bench and roll it on with practiced speed.
She inches across the bed with exaggerated slowness, just as I told her. Her second knee has just made it to the mattress when I grab her hips and jerk her back against me, impaling her in a single thrust.
She shrieks lightly, gasping for breath. I hold her tight, rocking my hips against her again and again and again. She grips the bedspread with tight hands, her glorious hair falling across her back.
“You will come when I do,” I growl.
She nods with a whimper. Her head drops, hair spilling across my bedspread. I imprint this incredible vision in my mind, and pump harder and faster and deeper. I pour my energy and strength and desire into her. I think of the jewels nestled in my vault. Today is my victory, and this is my prize. And this woman is befitting, a perfect woman for my perfect crime.
“Now,” I command her, and she dives headfirst against the mattress, her body instantly quivering around my cock. I unleash into her, the spasms of her muscles clenching me, pulling the orgasm straight from my body into hers.
We moan together, simultaneously released from the torture of waiting. I continue pushing into her, pulsing, working our bodies, until she collapses forward on the bed.
She is a superb ending to this day. I am on top of the world.
