Pinching my nipple gently, he keeps the pressure there for a few seconds, and then lets go of it, his finger once again going down and over my stomach. I almost start praying for him to go lower, to caress my folds on the way down, but his movements don’t take him near my pussy: he simply moves his finger up and down from my navel to my breasts, caressing my nipples every time he gets near them and making me breath so hard I don’t even know how in the hell I still haven’t passed out. My skin is prickling, my muscles burning with so much desire I might just spontaneously combust any time now.
“You want more, don’t you?” Arsen asks, still grinning as if he owns me, and damn, right now he does own me. “You want my cock in that tight little mouth, don’t you?” I nod, moving my head up and down with anxious movements. I must look desperate right now. But it’s true, I really, really want his cock… No, I need it. “Take off your skirt,” he says with that commanding tone of his, his fingers still caressing one hard nipple. I hook my fingers on my skirt and, swaying my ass from side to side, push it down and let it fall on the floor at my feet. His eyes go from my breasts to my thong, and I can almost feel him peeling it off of me just with the power of his mind. Unconsciously, he licks his lips, almost as if he wants to devour me like he did yesterday.
“I can’t wait to bend you over and feel my cock deep inside of you... But first,” he leans toward me, his lips against my ear as he speaks, “you’ll have to come.” As the words roll out over his lips, he slides his finger all the way down to my thong, pressing one fingertip over my clitoris in such a way that I simply see red. My muscles spasm and jerk, and I feel my knees buckling under my weight. Holy hell, is this really happening? One touch of his on my clitoris and I’m already coming, waves of pleasure crashing against me in a devastating way. How is this even possible?
“Good girl,” he whispers. “But it’s not enough. I need more.” With that, he grabs my thong and pushes it against the side of my outer thigh, ripping it off of me in one sudden and violent movement. I let out one loud moan as I feel the fabric tearing and then sliding over my skin, the cool air caressing my drenched pussy. He throws my thong to the floor and, pulling me in with one arm around my waist, he presses two fingers against my clit and starts to rub viciously, my muscles tensing up and charging with electricity. I almost fall into his embrace, my knees still week from the orgasm; I’m like a ragdoll, supported only by his strong arms.
Pressing my head against his chest, I shut my eyes and simply surrender to the devastation he is unleashing inside of me. I can’t see or hear—the whole world is nothing but a blur to me, the only thing in existence right now being his fingers on my clitoris. And, sweet Jesus, does he know how to use them! He rubs them in fast circles, applying just the exact amount of pressure to make me moan as if I’m losing my sanity.
“Come,” he whispers, and I feel my body starting to convulse. My muscles spasm and all the electricity they held inside of them rages free through my body, taking over every single one of my nerve endings and flooding my brain with an ocean of pleasure. “More,” Arsen whispers again, turning his wrist and letting his fingers slide down from my clit to my folds. Without even letting my orgasm subside, he slides his two fingers inside my pussy, moving them in a hook motion and guiding them all the way toward that sweet maddening spot inside of me. His fingertips pressed tight against my G-spot, he starts rubbing me there, pressing on my clit with his thumb. “I love the way you moan when you’re coming, Ashley,” he says, moving his fingers in and out of me at break neck speed.
I don’t know how I’m surviving this. I truly don’t. A few flicks of his wrist and I explode again, my mind a nuclear wasteland. I don’t even moan this time. I simply let my body be taken over by a seizure of ecstasy and throw my arms over his shoulders, supporting myself as my knees grow weaker.
Slowly, he pulls his fingers out, bringing them to my lips. I’m breathing hard, my muscles still twitching as he brushes his wet fingers over my lips; my own scent inundates me, and I almost lose consciousness—seriously, my brain can’t even process how much I want Arsen to fuck me right now. To feel this much desire should be illegal.
“Please…” I mutter, my voice sounding as if I’m so weak I shouldn’t even be speaking. “Please, Arsen.”
“I love how you beg,” he says, his hands running through my hair. “But what are you begging for? Tell me."