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Two beats, four.
She’s waiting for me to sit down.
Fine. She wants me to just watch. I’ll watch.
The throbbing ache in my pants is screaming curses into my head, demanding that I throw my fucking rules out the window. Grab her. Dance with her. Fuck her senseless.
Instead, I force myself down, every muscle in my body protesting and clenching in blissful agony. Hellena licks her lips, staring at the way my zipper tents, barely able to contain my rock-hard desire for her.
A little flip of her finger tells me she needs more music.
I can’t say no to that.
The song that comes next is ambient, simple, but powerful. One of Hellena's favorites, the vocals simple and raw. Her movements are smoother now. Flexing, undulating, rolling with the natural form of her arching back, the orbit of her ass, the swelling of her chest with every breath.
Hands cup and raise her breasts, letting them slip back out and down.
She lets herself fall back, tucking her knees up and spreading wide for me to see.
The beat sees her bouncing softly, on the balls of her feet, resting on her upper back, pumping as she finally rubs her entire hand into the heaven between her legs. Up and back down, taking the ruined silk along, showing me a hint, just the tip of her sex.
Light gleams off the soaked skin, sending thrills up through my back, exhausted from the tension, and I’m gripping the sides of the chair until my hands hurt.
Flexing my ass and thighs, I clench inside, thrusting against the confines of my clothing. A semblance of relief only makes it worse, currents of sensation spiraling through me.
I won’t last another song. Another minute.
She sees me shaking, panting, matching breath for breath with her.
The breakdown of the song rolls her over, up onto her knees, looking at me over her shoulder. Her sacrum tilts back and forth rhythmically, opening and closing her flushed ass cheeks, the sliver of dark red just covering enough to make me almost shout for her to tear them off.
Like she can read my mind, she smiles and only pulls them to the side, sliding one finger, then two, deep inside her folds, forcing a long, desperate moan from her.
It’s more than I can bear.
My resolve is in tatters.
Except that I can’t let go of the chair, my fingers tearing into the cushion, my entire body locked up.
Hellena continues to drive her fingers inside, lost in her pleasure, practically humming along to the words of the song with every cry. I know she’s close.
And so am I.
The eruption starts as searing pain, my body fatigued from maintaining my absolute control. Like a pumping heartbeat, deep in my stomach. My abs are near to giving out.
“I–I’m gonna…” she sings, involuntarily letting me know she’s about to come undone.
It starts like an earthquake, her shaking thighs, then her gyrating hips, thrusting against her hand, her face buried in her other arm ahead of her.
Just as she starts to scream, I join her, biting down on my lip as she screams. “Fuck!”
Every muscle in my body lets go at the same time, flooding my shorts, hot and wet.
My head flops back as I sag in the chair, gasping and wondering what the hell I’m going to do with myself, watching her collapse against the platform, pulling the remains of her dress around her as she watches me.
The predatory satisfaction I see in her eyes makes me clench, instantly hard again.
Hellena Michaels is going to ruin me.
