“I'll be watching too. I know perfectly well that you're not above breaking rules if it means you get to win. Just because I’m the one getting the orgasms in this situation doesn’t mean I’m completely at your will.” She was acting like she was explaining her desire to take control, but she was really just trying to dispel any suspicions. “Plus, I like to be on top.”
He gave her a dry half-smile. “I know you do.” He relaxed his body and linked his arms behind his head. “I’ll be a good boy. So it’s your turn to ‘go to it.’”
Suppressing her glee, she crawled over until she was straddling his hips once again.
She’d intended to just do the normal astride-thing while she put her plan in motion, but she was hit with another idea when she lifted his erection. She watched his face as she gently ran her fingers up and down the hard length of him.
He was watching her intently through half-closed lids, and his jaw clenched as she massaged him.
She played with the head a little. Saw when he winced very slightly. Then she stroked down to cup his balls and felt a thrill of power when she heard him release a quiet, helpless groan.
After she’d caressed him gently for a few minutes, she decided he was in a suitably receptive and non-thinking state.
Levering her hips forward, she kept one hand on his cock and raised the other hand to her lips. She slid one of her fingers into her mouth, sucking on it hard—knowing that Owen was still watching her.
His eyes blazed as she slid her finger in and out of her tightened lips, and she heard him make a low, guttural sound.
Satisfied that he was paying attention, she trailed that one finger back down her body—skating along her neck, making a detour to twirl around one nipple, skimming farther down her belly, and finally settling between her thighs.
His eyes had followed that one finger, and Amy felt a hot exhilaration flood her as she fingered her own arousal. Her flesh was warm and swollen and sticky and a little sore, but it astoundingly seemed to crave even more friction.
Leaning forward with one hand splayed on the mattress for support, she sunk that one finger all the way inside her and pumped it in and out, mimicking the motion she’d generated in her mouth.
Owen groaned again and closed his eyes. “That’s incredibly hot, baby, but you’re not going to make me come like that. Even if you get yourself off with your finger.”
Amy wasn’t worried. This had still been a very encouraging start.
She pulled her finger out of her pussy and raised it again to her mouth. Saw Owen bite his lip when she slid the finger back into her mouth and tasted her own arousal—mixed with some lingering traces of Owen’s.
It wouldn’t have taken very much self-stimulation for Amy to come again. She was already very close from his mouth a few minutes earlier.
But her plan wasn’t to have another orgasm.
Her plan was to fake one.
It could certainly be considered cheating—although they’d never laid out definite rules, so cheating was purely subjective—but at this point she didn’t mind stretching a bit to win the game. She figured if she faked one orgasm, Owen would be satisfied and would let his control slip on the last one, thinking he had won. Then she could inform him that she had faked one of the seven and that he hadn’t won after all.
He would whine and complain about fairness and honesty, but the fact was that he would have lost.
Her brain was slightly befuddled from her previous orgasms, but all of this made perfect sense to Amy. She couldn’t be sure of making him come again unless he was lulled into thinking he’d already achieved the victory.
So fake one orgasm—win the game. She thought it was a very good plan.
Amy wasn’t a fan of faking orgasms. In fact, she thought it was a very stupid thing for women to do. Why would they want to trick men into being satisfied with their shoddy techniques, instead of encouraging them to find different techniques that actually worked?
But this was a highly unusual situation, and she thought that womankind might forgive her for faking it this one time if it meant achieving victory over one very arrogant specimen of masculinity.
But, as she pulled her finger out of her mouth—saw Owen’s fiery expression—she realized that she’d have to be careful.
It would really suck to intend to fake an orgasm and end up coming for real.
She’d been holding Owen’s cock lightly in one hand, and now she drew it up until it was flush against her arousal.
Eyeing him from under her lashes, she reached her free hand down to spread open her folds, and then she rubbed her heated flesh against his hard cock.
“Amy,” Owen choked, fisting his hands on either side of his body as he stared at her masturbating against his erection.