Page 27 of Mine for 24 Hella-Hours
“Nice collection.” Luka checks each function the toys have and the intensity.
I don’t cut corners when it comes to my sexual wellness. I deserve to have different toys to play with. Spoiling myself on the matter is essential—every woman deserves to have fun with herself.
“They’re my favorites.”
“Oh yeah?”
I nod, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.
“Let’s see which one is your favorite.” The suction around my sensitive clit comes with a sharp inhale and a resonating moan as Luka presses it so delectably.
“Definitely a strong contender.” The observation is laced with amusement.
I shake my head and lean it back.
The subtle suctions convert to rougher assaults. My swollen clit aches so fucking good. I’m so close to coming again.
“The wand is a mighty touch.”
I can barely form a coherent line. It becomes unbearable to keep the ocean waiting to flow within me. “Mmm.”
“Don’t come.” He commands.
Through squishy eyes, I catch the seriousness in his gaze. “I… I won’t.” I manage to answer, grinding my teeth in the process.
He doesn’t waver from his torture as he continues switching between the two to make it utterly painful.
He slows the intensity for a minute to let me catch my breath before he picks it back up again.
Carefully, he glides my lipstick toy into me and turns it on. The vibrating tormentor is flattering my walls. Pumping with no remorse while resuming treating my nub with suctions.
For a long minute, I’m hyperventilating. He heightens the intensity, denies me the freefall and I think I’m going to die.
“What baby, your pussy needs to come?” His eyes zing with danger.
I nod through hooded eyes. I’m so worked up. My body is trying to detonate itself and the string of need within me is insufferable.
“Not yet, you can wait a little longer for me.” He says.
I seriously want to cry, my tears are waiting at bay.
The intensity of the device inside me increases. I’ve never tried it this high before. Couldn’t do it. It hurts and at the same time, it feels so wonderful that my head explodes.
“I-It’s too m-much.”
“You can take it, wildflower. Do you want me to stop?”
The moans cage us both and turn into loud groans. My body’s in distress as the device takes control and fogs my brain with this intense feeling.
A moan turns into a plea, “Luka, please.”
“Please what, Dylan?” on the verge of dying, I love the way he says my name with his sexy accent.
“Allow me to c-come.”
He tsks. And tsks again.
“Come.”
