drowning in the way his fingers worked me.
‘Mm,’ was about all that sprang to mind.
Tom laughed, rubbing more persistently, getting the tip of a finger inside me.
‘Soaking,’ he said. ‘Getting these naughty knickers in a right state.’
I squirmed, the lace of my knickers chafing my bottom, getting bunched in between my cheeks. I peered down to look at the outline of Tom’s hand, a busy mound inside the gossamer fabric. Seeing it like that turned me on even more. I jerked my hips upwards, wanting more of his fingers deeper inside.
He took the hint and sank two of them in, then three. I was exquisitely full, and his thumb still tended to my clit, drawing wave after wave of wetness out of me. I couldn’t have believed I had that much juice in me, if I hadn’t felt it pooling in the crack of my bottom and spreading a damp patch all over the back of my knickers.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ I gasped, my heart hammering. I was going to come like this, under the hand of my bare-chested, booted master. Yes, he was the master and I was at his mercy…My mind filled in the details it needed to bring my orgasm closer.
I shut my eyes and clutched at his arm, needing to steady myself before the wave crashed.
He pulled his fingers out! All the way out of my knickers.
My eyes flew open and I stared at him stupidly.
‘Wha? Whassup?’
He leant right over me, his nose touching mine, his eyes demonic, and said, ‘Tell me about your secret computer stalker, Ella.’
I wailed out my frustration.
‘You’re evil.’
‘I’m evil,’ he agreed, ‘and I’m relentless. And I want to keep you coming until you can’t see or move any more. But not until you tell me your little secret.’
‘This isn’t fair,’ I said.
‘I know,’ he said, and he kissed me hard, flicking the tip of his tongue over mine, pushing it down as if to show me he would do the same to my resistance.
‘Don’t make me,’ I said, reaching down for the bulge in his trousers, in the hope that I might be able to distract him. ‘I want this.’
He batted my hand away and held my wrist tight.
God, it was turning me on even more. I didn’t remember him being this masterful the first time. Then again, we were both much drunker on that occasion.
‘You’ll get it,’ he promised. He kissed my neck, sucking on it, but not hard enough to leave a mark. Just enough to make me want to howl with need. ‘As much of it as you can handle. When you’ve told me what I want to know.’
He flexed his hips, pushing his hard mound into the junction of my spread legs so that my clit tingled madly.
‘Please!’ I said, having to contend with his tongue on my nipples now, its tip probing past the fishnet. He was winning. I wasn’t going to be able to last much longer.
‘You know what you have to do,’ he said. He rotated his hips, achingly slowly, then withdrew a fraction so that my clit was left to throb untended.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, it’s a blogger whose blog has disappeared. I want to find out what’s happened to her, OK?’
He grinned roguishly and kissed the tip of my nose.
‘There, you see. Not so difficult, was it? Now you’re going to show me everything you’ve got on this blogger…’
I clenched my fists and beat them on the duvet, my teeth gritted with frustration.
‘…but don’t worry. You’re going to get what you’ve been begging for first. Painkillers?’
‘In the drawer…top drawer…there’s a bottle of water on the side.’
He got the necessaries and gave them to me to take. He’d also managed to find a pack of condoms, and he shed his boots and trousers while I downed a brace of Nurofen, getting himself rubbered up in double-quick time.
‘Right,’ he said, once I’d put down the water bottle. ‘What’s the best position for getting fucked with a sprained ankle, Foxy? Any ideas?’
I scooted back and put a pillow under the offending joint.
‘This is probably the easiest,’ I said, eating him up with my eyes. Long legs, long arms, long…everything.
He put one knee on the edge of the mattress, striking a manly pose with his chest out and shoulders back.
‘Are you ready for it?’ he said, thrusting his hips forward.
‘I think so.’
He placed himself on his knees between my thighs and fixed his lips to my ear.
‘I bet you are,’ he whispered. One finger descended on the lace strip that covered my pussy and began to stroke it, from bottom to top, slowly. His fingernail tickled my fattening clit. The material was soaked already. Surely it couldn’t take much more.
I knew I couldn’t. I threw back my head and whimpered.
Harder, please.
But I didn’t say it. I didn’t want to give orders. I wanted him to be in charge.
The next thing I felt, through my delirious haze, was something soft and wet, lapping at the sodden fabric. He pushed his tongue into every crevice, getting the lace barrier wetter and wetter, taking it all into his mouth in a bunch then releasing it to tease me some more. I was beginning to hate these knickers. But I was pretty sure he didn’t feel the same way.
‘All right,’ he said at last, hoarse but determined. ‘Tell me if it hurts, OK?’
I caught a breath and stared at him. But he meant my ankle.
He didn’t even take the knickers off to fuck me.
He pushed the gusset aside and slid his cock inside, fast and smooth, and exactly the way I needed it. My unsprained ankle found its way to his shoulder and I lay in a slightly twisted position, my bottom half off the bed, giving him the best angle of penetration I possibly could.
He used that angle to the fullest, thrusting hard, using his fingers to work at my nipples or my clit whenever he wanted to see my face change. He watched me all the way through, so intently that I shut my eyes in the end. I gave myself up to the feeling of helpless ravishment. I was his to take, and he took me.
I don’t know if my ankle hurt or not. I only knew that furtive, needy creep towards climax, letting him build it inside me, helping him stoke my fire with little movements and silent hints. He read me perfectly. He knew what turned me on.
I’d been wrong about him.
When I was so close there was no chance of turning back, I opened my eyes for a peek at him. His
