I just need one little orgasm to get myself back under control. It’s such a simple ask. No one but me will ever know.
A creak of a floorboard is the only warning I get that I’m no longer alone. I open my eyes and freeze. Jonas is standing in the doorway, his fist raised to knock, the door hanging wide open. I must not have closed it all the way…
Why the hell am I thinking about that right now?
I should be moving, should be scrambling to cover myself, should definitely remove the two fingers I’ve penetrated myself with, but the look on his face freezes me in place. He’s staring at me like he can’t decide if this is dream or reality, but he really wants it to be reality.
I clear my throat. “Did you need something?”
“My toothbrush.” His voice is lower than normal, low enough that the faint rumble in it threatens to curl my toes.
Apparently we’re just going to pretend he can’t see what I’m very clearly doing. “Um, go ahead.”
But Jonas doesn’t walk to the bathroom. He slowly makes his way to the side of the bed and stares down at me. “Blake,” the quiet censor in his tone nearly makes me come on the spot. “You couldn’t wait five minutes before you started fucking yourself with your fingers in my bed?”
How am I supposed to answer that? I’ve been trying to make my peace with him rejecting me—again—and there’s no frame of reference for whatever’s happening right now. It’s like my brain skips and all I can do is blurt, “You weren’t going to do it.”
“Mmm.” His face is in the shadow cast by the open door, which means my body must be clearly outlined by the light. Jonas exhales slowly. “Well, don’t stop on my account.”
Surely I didn’t hear him correctly.
Except he’s sinking down onto the mattress behind me, and holy fuck, this is happening. Desire overcomes whatever brakes I have left and I begin to move again. I can’t see him, but I can feel him watching me.
Jonas tsks. “You’re doing a terrible job of it, baby girl.”
The endearment lashes me like fire and I moan. I can’t help it. “Think you can do better?”
“Oh, I know I can.” His voice changes a little, that dry tone going deeper yet. “I’m going to touch you now.”
“I might die if you don’t.”
His rough chuckle sounds as strained as I feel, and then it doesn’t matter because the mattress gives beneath his weight as he moves and he’s smoothing his hands over my ass. He slides my shirt higher up my back. Exposing me. “Better,” Jonas murmurs. He squeezes my ass as if measuring me, his rough palms dragging over my sensitive skin. “This gets to be too much, then you tell me to stop and I stop. Got it?”
Stop? Is that a joke? I’ve been waiting six years for him to touch me and I’m a little afraid that I’d bite off my own tongue before I uttered the word. Still, he’s obviously waiting for an answer, so I clear my throat. “Got it.”
“Good.” He drags his thumbs over the lower curve of my ass, using that tiny pressure to guide my legs wider. “What a little slut you are, Blake. Rubbing all over my sheets and playing with your pussy. Were you going to fuck my pillow next?”
Humiliation lashes me and I whimper, arching my back, working my pussy with my fingers. Fuck, why is that it so hot to have him talk to me like this, like I’ve disappointed him? I don’t know, but I don’t want him to stop. “Sorry, Daddy.” The words just slip out. I don’t mean to. I really don’t.
Jonas pauses his idle stroking as if I’ve shocked him, and for a moment, I think I’ve taken it too far. He’s already pointed out our age difference in a way that suggests it bothers him. Calling him Daddy is just shining a spotlight on it and amping it up to a million.
“Get your fingers out of your pussy when I’m talking to you.”
The snap in his voice has me obeying instantly, but I’m me, so I only move them to my clit. I don’t stroke, but there’s no way he missed that I’ve obeyed the order to the letter, if not the spirit. Jonas tsks, and the disappointment in the sound has me turning my face into the pillow to keep from moaning out loud. Finally, he says, “Answer the question. Were you going to fuck my pillow next?”
“Yes.” I don’t even know if it’s true. It doesn’t matter. I suddenly want him to punish me, to pull on this delicious thread of humiliation until it undoes me completely.
“Thought so.” He brackets my upper thighs, a bare half an inch below my pussy, and squeezes hard enough to hurt. I jump a little and then shamelessly lift my ass higher. Offering myself to him, and there’s no denying it. I catch myself holding my breath as I wait for what happens next.
Jonas doesn’t make me wait long. He sighs as if already bored with this. “If you’re going to fuck something inadequate the second I leave the room, I’ll give you something with more substance to fill that needy pussy.” And then his fingers are there at my entrance. Not teasing, not doing anything but pressing lightly where I need his touch more than I need my next breath. When I freeze, he releases an exasperated breath. “Well, baby girl? You want to fuck something? Fuck my fingers.”
5
Understanding dawns, bringing with it another wave of that delicious humiliation. I hold my breath and ease back a little. His fingers slide into me to the first knuckle. Holy shit, he’s really going to make me do all the work. I have to work myself back onto his two fingers and if I thought what I was doing before is dirty, it’s nothing compared to this. He keeps a light grip on my hip and his blunt fingers stretch me as I take them deeper. The positioning is wrong to get me off, but it doesn’t seem to matter because this situation is so hot, I feel like I’m burning alive. I wedge myself onto his fingers until he’s as deep as he can go and then I release a breath.
This is happening.
This is really happening.
“Blake.” His fingers flex on my hip, the slightest betrayal that he’s at all affected by what we’re doing. “I gave you very clear instructions, didn’t I?”
I can barely think past the need thrumming in my blood. “Yes?”
“Apparently not.” Why does him sounding disappointed in me turn me on so much? I don’t know. I don’t know, but I desperately don’t want it to stop. Jonas’s finger flexes inside me. “You’re obviously going to make me do all the work in this, as well.”
“No?” He lightly slaps my ass. It’s more shocking than painful, and I start to jerk forward, only to have him follow me, shoving his finger deep into my pussy and bearing me the rest of the way to the bed. “Oh fuck.”
“Language,” he murmurs. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs wider. I want to see you.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. He doesn’t move as I obey, spreading my legs wide. The position lifts my ass a little, but he moves back enough that I’m able to. I expect… I don’t know what I expect. This entire moment feels like a fever dream, like I’m in an orgasm-induced blackout and surely it’s all fantasy and Jonas Barnett doesn’t really have his fingers in my pussy after I called him Daddy.