Page 63 of Christmas With The Kings
“Blade, turn it off. I’m going to come.” Her hips arched, voice frantic. There was an edge of a challenge buried beneath the plea.
I chuckled low, recognizing the tremble in her tone, the one she used when she wanted me to override her desperation. And now, to test that theory.
“Pretty sure that’s not your safe word. Unless you’ve rewritten things and forgotten to tell me, which I would say is pretty rash.”
“I’m serious,” she begged. “Fuck, I can’t stop.”
“Can’t or won’t? There is a difference here, and you know my rules. This isn’t a first for you. Repeat them for me, please.”
“Whenever we play, all pre-established rules are in place. Listen and obey. No coming without permission,” she whimpered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I lowered it again to give her room to breathe and a minute to collect herself. The second her hips bucked into my hand once more, I took her through the levels again. We did this little dance several more times, and her desperation grew.
“I love it,” she moaned. “So close, I’m right fucking there, Blade. You should stop. Mmmm, please. Can I come?” she asked.
“No, you may not. When you come, it’s going to be when I’m buried deep inthispussy. And we can’t do that until much later.”
“I can’t fight it, please?” she begged.
The needy sound went straight to my cock. A sob escaped from her plump lips, and tears filled her eyes as I shook my head.
“Blade, I need it,” she panted.
“You look fucking stunning like this. Your hips can’t stay still, can they? It’s like this tight cunt has a mind of her own huh? Such a dirty little whore fucking my hand.”
Her body trembled against mine, soft whimpers muffled against my coat. I’d been flicking the dial higher, savoring every desperate little sound, when suddenly her fist bunched in the front of my jacket. Her lips parted, breath shaky, and her lashes fluttered closed.
“Don’t you do it, whore,” I growled, part of me praying she would so I could then torment her by making her come over and over and over. Which was standard punishment for coming without permission.
Fuck for me, her coming was foreplay. I wasn’t happy unless I could make her body so weak and spent that she forgot how many times she’d come. One notch higher and I could get her there.
Without warning, the word slipped out in a rush. “Zheltyy.”Yellow.
The effect on me was instant. The toy stilled with a swipe of my thumb, and my hands moved away. A low surge of pride hit me harder than lust ever could.
I eased her out of the edge of overstimulation, and cupped her face in both hands, brushing my thumbs over the flush on her cheeks. Her lashes fluttered once more, her lips parted, still trembling but steadying beneath my touch.
“There you go, little love,” I murmured, voice low, steady. “That’s exactly how you’re supposed to use it. You did perfect.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine, uncertain at first, then softening as the words sank in. I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight against me, letting her feel my steady heartbeat beneath the padded red suit.
“I’m so damn proud of you.” I dropped a kiss on the crown of her head, lingering there. “You’re getting so much better at it.”
It was true. We’d been working with her on using it more and more. A little sigh escaped her, tension bleeding out of her shoulders. She practically glowed under my praise, her hands curling into my coat like she wanted to hold on to every bit of it.
“That’s my good girl,” I whispered, rocking her.
Her body melted against me, and for a rare moment I forgot about the chaos outside the tent. All that mattered was her. She glowed for me, and I wanted to keep her here in this bubble forever.
“That’s my girl,” I whispered again, brushing my lips over her hair. “Are you having fun, little love?”
“I am, truly. We’re making so many new memories. Thank you. And I think there is no need to vote. I’d be happy to do this with you every year.”
“Is that so.”
“Yes, Sir. Maybe next year I can get an innie and an outie toy.”
For a second, my brain flatlined. Christ, only she could say something like that in the middle of a charity event with a straight face. The image hit me like a freight train. Her, flushed and wicked, pushing every one of my buttons.
