“Wrap your fist around yourself and pump. Do it slow.”
This time, I don’t hold back what I’ve wanted to say several times tonight. “Yes, ma’am.”
She smiles, her eyes following the grip and twist on my erection. “You like it when I tell you what to do, don’t you?”
I nod and boldly meet her appraising stare.
“Use a third finger. I want to feel something…thicker.”
My prick would be thicker, but I don’t think she wants that, yet. I suppress a grin as I pump myself while slicking a third finger through her juices. She’ll tell me when she wants me. And damn, I can hardly wait to hear it. She shoves her pants the rest of the way down and moves to her knees, legs spread so wide it’s more like she’s straddling the pillow. The added height and space allows her to move her hips more freely, and alter the angle of her swirling fingers.
“Ooh…yeah…that’s nice…,” her voice eases out like syrup and trails away.
I slow my strokes, feeling the telltale signs that my orgasm looms in the near distance. I glance down at Heather to see she’s watching my every move.
“Stroke it faster.” The look in her eyes steals my breath. She’s not just enjoying the sexual experience, she’s owning it. She’s opening herself and getting off on telling me what to do as much as I enjoy following her desires.
I pump myself up and down, increasing speed, twisting my palm slightly at the top before I slide back down.
“You can’t come until I say, Tony.” The sheer sexual power pouring from her is intoxicating. I nod again, unwilling to break the spell by speaking. More than anything, I want to pleasure her like I did the other night, to see that exquisite release etched on her face and know I gave it to her.
Wetness coats my hand, the added lubrication a sign she’s close to coming. “That’s it, Heather,” I whisper. “I want to see you come.”
Her eyes widen at my words and little tremors start deep within her pussy. I tighten my grip on myself, squeezing slowly to give sensation without breaking the barrier approaching me. Her mouth opens in a silent O, then closes, opening again right away on a loud moan. Her eyes shut, and her head lowers to the rug, lost in the sensations of her cresting peak.
The muscles tighten around my plunging fingers, and the slick wetness of her slit sucks at my skin. My kneeling body hunches forward, wracked in the intense pleasure-pain of orgasm avoidance. I can do this., I can resist coming and show her I can be as intense as she wants.
“Come now, Tony!” She pants and the convulsions inside her begin in earnest.
I pump my hand again, loosening my grip, allowing my rod to move freely in the slick oil coating my palm. Her head arches back as she moans her release to the room, each exhalation expelling in a louder moan of pleasure.
The lower half of her bottom rubs my wrist, drawing my attention back to that magnificent ass. My balls draw up as her orgasm continues, a longer peak than she had on the patio. Tingles begin in the base of my spine, travel quickly to the stem of my cock, and pause for a split second before rocketing out of my length.
Long jets of my release land on her upturned bottom, each spurt a joyous reminder that I did it—I held on until she said. A supreme relief settles through me as the spurts become less and less, then dwindle to rocking shudders throughout my body.
A fine sheen of sweat covers my exposed skin, a mark of the exertion in holding back my orgasm. I don’t think I’ve ever had a peak that intense when not inside a woman. Stunning, to say the least.
Heather’s hips sink to the pillow, and what sounds like a satisfied breath eases past her lips. “Grab the tissues, please. I can’t get up.”
Chapter Five
Heather
The sheer satisfaction of pulling off Saturday night buoys me all morning. Tony protested when I didn’t agree to meet him for breakfast today, and I found myself suggesting afternoon coffee just to make him smile. I had to agree to something before he’d leave last night.
The glow from last night’s intimacy still warms my heart. Surprisingly, I’m not shocked at how I behaved, and feel more of a freedom after the daring antics than I ever would have expected. He didn’t laugh…I didn’t mess up and make a fool of myself…and I have to admit, a big part of me really enjoyed acting like a stronger person.
Looking at the early morning photo I took of the Brooklyn Bridge, snapped on a soul-searching walk one year after my parents’ accident, I realize I really do have a lot to be proud of. I oversaw all the renovations on this place, using part of the life insurance policy and assets left to me from my parents. I don’t have any vices that have run up my credit cards, nor do I have unpaid student loans looming over my head.