Seven(25)

“You just lie there,” she told him in almost intoxicated delight. “That was our deal, remember?” His shaft was rubbing deliciously against her clit, and her hips started jerking a little as she started to really respond to the sensations.

The muscles in Owen’s arms and legs tightened even more, and he arched his back a bit, groaning from the sight of her and from the stimulation on his cock. “This one counts,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “My cock will have been in play when you come from this.”

“I suppose,” she agreed, feigning reluctance. “I’ll give you this one—but you really should be grateful I'm making it so easy on you.”

"But don't think I'm going to come from this," Owen added, with a sudden burst of rough sound as she briefly tightened her grip on his cock.

"Uh huh," Amy agreed, really, really hoping he would come.

As she felt pressure well up quickly from the focused friction, she reminded herself that she wasn’t supposed to come for real.

This one was fake. And faking it was going to win her this game.

“Yeah,” she moaned throatily, trying to position herself in the most flattering way but still allow him a good view of the proceedings. “Yeah, Owen, good.”

It was good, but she hammed up her pleasure a little in preparation for her fake orgasm.

Owen didn’t seem any the wiser. His whole body was damp and tense now as he watched her rub his cock insistently against her clit.

Her hips picked up speed—not all of it part of her strategy—and she reminded herself again that this orgasm wasn’t for real. “Yeah,” she gasped her head falling forward now and her hair spilling down over her shoulders. “Yeah, Owen, so good, so hard, so hard.”

She saw that he now had squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away from her. She felt a thrill of power that almost matched the thrill of pleasure and possession that was already washing over her.

If she got him far enough, maybe she could come for real—since, if he climaxed again before her seventh orgasm, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t be up for another go in time.

He definitely seemed to be losing control. And so was she. She had to work not to squeeze his erection too tightly, since her body had become demanding and urgent as she worked them both up toward orgasm.

“Owen,” she groaned, “God, Owen, I want to come like this.” It wasn’t really a lie, although she mostly said it for effect. For some reason, she couldn’t remember the kinds of things she normally said in the heat of passion so everything she said sounded slightly artificial—making her feel like a bad porn star.

But her erotic words had a very good effect. Owen’s arms flew up from the bedcovers, and his hands settled bruisingly on her hips. “Come,” he rasped, heat wafting in waves from his body, even though his hot gaze was now masked by his lids. “Come, love, come.”

The “love” almost distracted her. She almost leaned over to kiss him. But she’d have a really hard time faking this so shamelessly if she was actually kissing him so she caught herself just in time.

She'd better step it up a notch and get to her fake orgasm more quickly.

“Yeah,” she gasped, starting to bounce over him as if she were fucking him, his cock sliding lusciously against her flesh. “Yeah, Owen, yeah. You’re so hard, so good.” She was panting now, from effort as much as growing desire. She tried to think of something creative and sexy to say. Couldn’t think of anything but porn. But that always turned men on—and Owen was certainly not immune to some blatant ego-boosting. Hoping the words wouldn’t make her giggle, she continued. “So hard,” she panted, “So big. Your cock feels so good. So big.”

That actually helped her. The irony distracted her enough to keep control of her rising sensations.

Owen's eyes opened just slightly, and he was now watching her through the thin slits. For a moment, she was afraid she’d overdone the porn-speak and he’d caught on, but his hands were still grasping her hips tightly, urging their motion. And his body was still hot and tense.

Men were fooled into thinking their partners had climaxed all the time. It seemed to her like they should pay more attention, but she supposed if they were excited enough, the artificial could easily be confused with the genuine.

And—despite his better qualities—Owen was still just a man.

Just to be safe, however, she gave his cock a few pumps with her hand, each time pushing it more firmly against her clit. When Owen moaned helplessly and tossed his head, she felt safe again, so she started up her routine once more.

Her arousal hadn’t built back up—mostly because of her attempt to keep from giggling—so she was able to concentrate more on faking it than on keeping herself from coming. “Good,” she gasped erotically, “Yeah, baby, I want to come. You’re going to make me come so hard.”