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His heavy whiskey-scented breaths continue to waft against my face as his fingers wrap around my throat. “Make the mistake of coming, and you’ll come so much that sweet little cunt of yours won’t be needy for weeks.”
My fist clenches tighter, tugging his shirt and moaning against his lips as the fluttering of my stolen orgasm tingles throughout my body.
“You’re going to regret that.” He pulls my hand from my panties and licks my arousal from my fingers.
“Your correction,” I over-emphasize the word, “doesn’t exactly sound like discipline.”
Placing a light kiss against my lips, Tristan releases his hold on my throat and takes a step backward. My eyes are immediately drawn to the devilish smirk spreading across his face.
What does he know that I don’t?
“Strip.” His voice is suddenly deep and commanding, devoid of every bit of playfulness it harbored only moments ago. “Do not make me repeat myself.”
The atmosphere in the room has changed, the air now feeling thick and making it hard for me to catch my breath as I hesitantly follow his instruction. As I pull the dress over my head, Tristan opens a large wooden armoire. He turns around and his eyes drop to my panties, the disapproving look a silent indicator to remove them quickly.
He turns from the armoire with a large white vibrating wand in his hand. It’s just a really big vibe, how bad can it be? Taking a seat in the oversized leather upholstered chair, he taps his thigh indicating for me to come sit on his lap. When I lower myself onto him, he grips my knees and positions my legs over his, leaving me wide open for him. “Your legs stay open, understood?”
“Yes,” I answer quickly as he drags my back to his chest. His hands slide teasingly down the bare skin of my arms with a light feathering touch that leaves goosebumps in their wake. Reaching my wrists, he grips them firmly and yanks them both behind his head so abruptly that I can’t contain my gasp.
“Grip the chair. My shirt. Or even my neck, but do not even think about moving your arms, understood?”
My nerves increase tenfold with every command he gives. “Yes, I understand.”
I might be in over my head.
“Spit on it,” he demands as he lifts the wand and holds it beneath my lips. I quickly gather the saliva in my mouth and let it trickle from my lips on the awaiting vibe. Tristan flips it on and quickly cycles through the speeds before settling on one that sounds like the jackhammer of vibrators.
I am definitely in over my head.
Tristan taps the vibrating head against my clit, and I am uncertain if he is teasing me or giving me the opportunity to learn what it feels like. Either way, this thing is substantially more powerful than either of the toys that I have in my nightstand. He presses it firmly to my clit, the vibrations vibrating through my hips and to my stomach. “For being so eager to come without my permission, you’re going to get a reminder that I am the one who decides when you come,” he roughly whispers.
“Oh…my God,” I squeak out my release as I grind my ass against his hardening length beneath me. It’s a feeble attempt to retreat from the vibrations rattling through me. Clawing at the chair behind Tristan’s head, I cry out as the tremors shake my entire body.
“I’ll go easy on you.” He firmly grips my thigh as my legs begin to creep shut. “Three more on the wand, and then you’re going to ride my fucking cock.”
Hooking my feet behind his shins, I squeeze my thighs violently hard against his as the wand continues to pulse against my clit. As I scream through my second release, my whole body trembles so hard I swear I match the speed of the wand buzzing against me.
Tears well in my eyes, and the once pleasurable wand begins to feel like fire against my tender clit. Barely able to speak, I mumble the only thing I can in an attempt to get a moment of reprieve, “Tris…”
“That’s it,” he taunts, “call out my name as you remember who decides when you come.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
TRISTAN
Layla has no idea what she’s done by opening this door. This will never be enough for me. Watching and listening to her give herself over to me with each passing orgasm is like a tortuous tease of the submission she might not actually give me.
I already want more.
I don’t just want her cries and screams. I want her submission. Her obedience. She grows rigid on my lap seconds before exploding into a quivering mess yet again. It’s like a fucking drug, and I already need my next fix.
“Does my needy brat know who her perfect little cunt belongs to yet?” I tap the head of the wand to her clit, and she gurgles at the reprieve and blissful torment.
Pressing it firmly against her clit, she painfully groans, “You,” as she spasms violently against my chest with her nails digging into the back of my neck.
Finally, I remove the wand from between her legs and flip it off, and I am in awe of her. Beads of sweat glisten over her quivering body. Matted, damp hair clings to her face. But not once did she disobey either of my commands. Her legs are spread wide and her hands are still firmly behind my head.
She’s fucking magnificent.
