Page 11 of Beg Me
"You're doing so well," Colt murmurs, turning the intensity up another notch. "But I wonder how long you can last before you're begging me to let you come."
I take a sip of my drink, desperate for something to focus on besides the building pressure between my legs. The cold liquid does nothing to cool the heat spreading through me.
"Tell me what you're feeling," he commands, his voice low but firm.
"I can't—" I stutter as the vibrations change to a pulsing rhythm that makes my thighs quiver. "Everyone will hear."
"That's not what I asked." His eyes darken, his dominant side coming out to play. "Tell me what you're feeling. Now."
"It's too much," I whisper, my breathing shallow. "I feel like I'm about to?—"
"About to what?" He increases the intensity again, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. "Say it."
"About to come," I admit, the words barely audible.
His smile is predatory as he watches me struggle. "And did I give you permission?"
"No."
He grins, satisfied with his torment over me. He's silent for a moment while I'm squeezing my thighs together and trying my best not to moan in this crowded room, and then he says something that sends a bolt of heat through me.
"Beg me."
It's humiliating. The idea of begging him to let me come in this public setting. But my pussy is humming, and the pleasure has coiled tight in my belly and I feel like I might explode if he doesn't let me come. So I do as he says. I beg.
"Please," I whisper, my voice cracking. "Please let me come."
"That's not begging," Colt says, his voice a dangerous rumble. "That's asking nicely."
The vibrations increase again, and my knees nearly buckle. I grip the bar harder, my fingernails digging into the polished wood.
"Please, I need it," I gasp, beyond caring who hears. "I can't—I can't hold back anymore."
Colt leans closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Tell me what you are."
I think back to what I wrote in my profile. That I wanted to be atoy.Used for someone else's pleasure. That hint of shame coats my skin again, but it brings more heat with it. I'm so turned onI'm certain I must be dripping down my thighs. I want to come so badly that the words don't even feel hard to say.
"I'm your toy," I whimper as the vibrations pulse in a rhythm that makes my thighs tremble. "Your pretty toy to use however you want."
"And what do toys do?" His finger traces my spine, feather-light.
"They—they please their owners," I stammer, desperation making me bold. "Please let me come for you. I'll do anything, I swear. I need it so badly I can't think straight."
His eyes darken with satisfaction. "Look at you, begging to come in a room full of strangers. Such a desperate little slut."
The degrading words push me closer to the edge.
"Yes," I breathe. "I am. I'm desperate. Please, Colt. Please."
Just as the pressure builds to an unbearable peak, just as I'm teetering on the edge of release, the vibrations stop completely. The sudden absence is almost as shocking as their presence. My knees wobble and I think I might fall to the ground, but Colt catches me with an arm around my waist, holding me up.
"Not yet," He says, taking a casual sip of his whiskey while I try to remember how to breathe. "You don't get to come until I decide you've earned it."
I press my thighs together, desperate for friction, for relief.
"Don't," he warns, noticing the movement. "Your pleasure belongs to me tonight. Every. Last. Drop."
The promise in his words, the certainty that this is only the beginning, sends a fresh wave of arousal through me.
