Part 33 (2/2)

He plays with my pearl, rubs it in circles, teases me. He pulls strands of bliss from my core. He winds up my spring, tighter and tighter, and that ball of energy inside me keeps expanding, a pressure in my abdomen.

My heart races faster, my breaths draw quicker, and our bodies writhe together synchronously as one. He pushes a thick finger inside me, and I clench my jaw to stop from moaning. He rubs my front wall, turns my legs to jelly, and then his lips are at my ear again.

”I need you,” he tells me.

I press my ear into his lips, want him to kiss it, want to feel the bite of his teeth on my lobe.

He's guiding me to the chair, the one my client was just seated in. He pushes me into it, I flop down into the cotton cus.h.i.+oning, and hear the crackle of the sterile wrap that gets replaced for each customer.

My eyes go toward the doorway that adjoins the tattooing room to the waiting room. It's just a curtain, a sheet of fabric that hangs down from wooden rings set into the frame.

”Wait,” I gargle, trying to push him off me, but his hungry hands are having their way with me. I realize that he's in control. I realize this is all about him today.

He pulls up my tank, rolls it over my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and with one finger tugs my bra cup to one side.

”Pierce,” I whimper, but I find myself lifting my b.r.e.a.s.t.s to meet his lips. He sucks on my nipple, gives me a small bite, and then grins playfully up at me, my hardened bud in between his teeth.

Antic.i.p.ation... urgency... longing... it's all coursing through me, all egging me on, all telling me that I have to let him do this to me, here, now, because I can't possibly resist.

Because I don't want him to stop.

”d.a.m.n it,” I hiss, and I hold his head against me, savor the feel of his wet, insatiable tongue ringing my nipple. I yelp when he bites me again, and I push him off me, finger on his forehead, and wag it at him.

”Not so hard.”

His eyes bore into mine, and I can see his l.u.s.t for me playing out in every feature on his face. From the way the muscles in his jaw twitch, to the way his eyes won't ever leave my body. He wants me. No, he needs me.

”You are so f.u.c.kable,” he growls, dipping his head to smell me behind my ear. Expecting a compliment that isn't cra.s.s from Pierce is like expecting diamonds to rain from the sky.

He's back at my jeans, and now he's tugging them down my legs. I know I shouldn't be doing this, but I help him by wiggling out of them. Now I'm in the seat, just in my underwear. All thoughts of modesty evaporate when I see the look in his eyes.

He settles in between my legs, tugs my underwear to one side, and before I can protest he drapes his hot, wet tongue over my s.e.x.

I jolt in the seat, already so sensitive, and then he's licking me wildly, like some kind of starving dog. All I can see is his head bobbing slightly in between my legs.

I throw my head back, clamp my mouth shut. Making a sound is something I just don't dare to do. My client is right outside. She could walk in at any minute.

Not to mention my boss...

”Jesus,” I mewl softly. He's settled into a rhythm on my c.l.i.t, flicking it left and right with his tongue. He's going fast and hard, trying to make me peak, trying to bring me racing toward oblivion.

And I've no doubt he can do it in under a minute.

He's holding onto my thighs, gripping them hard. I can see his fingers digging into my flesh as he feasts on me, as he plucks strings of pleasure deep within my core.

I'm panting, heaving, and I'm mentally begging him to bring me there, faster, sooner, harder.

Pierce puts a finger at my entrance, rings it slowly, teases me while he laps at my pearl. I pull at my nipples, and my eyes are shut tight. I lift my hips to meet him, press my s.e.x into his face, grind myself into him. The sounds of him pleasuring me are all I can hear.

He pushes his finger inside me, rubs my front wall, right there, right at the spot. I'm drowning in bliss, waiting for him to take me there.

I'm climbing, ever higher, getting closer to the edge, waiting for him to heave me off.

I'm waiting to soar.

”Yes,” I whisper, holding his head against me, pus.h.i.+ng myself harder into his mouth. His deft tongue works me so expertly. He pushes in another finger, draws a quiet but extended moan from my throat.

”You taste so good,” he groans. The vibrations of his voice thrum through me. ”I could eat your p.u.s.s.y forever.”

”Make me come,” I beg. I'm so close. The ball of pressure in my belly is so big. I feel like I'm going to explode.

It grows and grows, gets tighter, tauter.

”Oh, s.h.i.+t,” I gasp. ”Oh, yes... oh, yes!”

I'm nearly there. So, so close.

But then he backs me off!

”What?” I say a little too loudly, exasperated, panting. My face is flushed, and my eyes are wide, accusing. Why did he do that? Don't tell me he came here just to tease me!

He grins at me, pulls his two fingers from me and sucks on them. ”You taste good, Pen.” He walks around to the side of the chair. His bulge is visible through his jeans.

”Unzip me,” he commands. I reach out my hands, but he stops me with two fingers on my head. ”With your teeth.”

There's a pause, just the s.p.a.ce between two heartbeats. But then my teeth are around the metal zip, and I'm pulling it down. His hands weave through my hair, and when I've unzipped him, he tips my head up so I meet his eyes.

”Together,” he tells me.

I gulp and nod. He pulls out his c.o.c.k from his boxer briefs. Even though we've been together before, I'm still surprised by how big he is.

He guides me to his manhood, and I take it into my mouth. Still gripping onto my hair, he pushes himself into me, and I struggle for a moment to open my throat for him.

That's when I feel his fingers on my folds again. They dip inside me, and he uses his thumb to rub my c.l.i.t.

He begins to finger me hard and fast, rub my pearl in just the perfect way. I'm instantly overwhelmed, thrust back onto the runway, pushed back toward the precipice.

I can't concentrate on his c.o.c.k, can't focus on pleasing him. I notice his hand go to his shaft, and he begins to pump himself, jerking off into my mouth.

”Come for me, Pen,” he growls, leaning over and taking the top of my ear in between his teeth.

He's got me right there, so close again. I feel the pressure. I let my eyes flutter shut, focus on his fingers, squeeze around them. I'm so, so, so f.u.c.king close...

It explodes, white-hot, blinding. I groan loudly onto his c.o.c.k, feel my body thrown off the edge. I come hard. It's intense, so intense, and he drives me through it, keeps it going, doesn't let up with his dancing fingers.