Chapter 61: Chapter 61
Kellan will be here soon. It’s time. When he demanded my secret from me last night, I thought first of lying,
but he held my orgasm ransom until I told him what he wanted to know.
“What’s the one fantasy you’ve never told anyone?” he asked.
I was on my back, spread wide before him, open to his gaze. His arm stretched out across my leg, hand grip- ping me right at the juncture of hip and thigh, while his elbow pinned me to the bed. I would’ve said it made me feel uncomfortable, but it didn’t.
Kellan’s other hand played between my legs, his thumb rubbing my clit, his middle finger teasing the entrance to my sex, but it was his mouth, his voice, his words that devastated me and set my senses reeling.
“I want you to tell me the one thing you’re too afraid to tell anyone, even me. I want all your secrets, Angie”— I tried to thrust my hips up at him, but he pulled his fingers away—“and I won’t let you come until I have them.”
He’d been teasing me for what felt like hours, bringing me to the brink and then retreating. I was desperate for release, but I didn’t know if I could pay the price he’d set.
“You want to come, don’t you, baby?”
His fingers ghosted over my clit, and I bit my lip and nodded.
“I want—” Oh, please, don’t let him laugh at me, I thought.
“Yes?” he asked encouragingly, increasing the pres- sure of his circling fingers.
“I want to serve as your table…” I was mumbling, and Kellan leaned in closer, a quizzical expression on his face.
“You want to sell me a fable?”
“No.” The words tumbled out of me and I thought I would die of mortification. “I want you to use me as your coffee table.”
Kellan went stone quiet. He knew how to honor a bargain, though, so he recovered quickly and stroked me just the way I needed and all of a sudden I was coming. The tides of sensation crashing over me; the shocked look on his face; the admission, out loud, of something I’d tried so hard not to acknowledge even to
myself; all combined into a perfect storm of feeling and I burst into tears.
He kept stroking me until the trembling stopped, then took me in his arms and kissed me.
“That sounds hot. Let’s do it.”
And so here I am, on all fours and naked except for some fuck-me shoes and the rope I used to tie my thighs and ankles together. I hear Kellan’s key in the lock and my breath catches in my throat. Wiping all expression from my face, I let my gaze fall to the ground.
He drops his bag at the door, shrugs out of his clothes and leaves them on the floor. Clad only in boxer briefs, he wanders to the fridge and swigs directly from the carton of juice. He then proceeds to scratch his balls, and readjust his junk.
Kellan is the most fastidiously tidy and dignified man I’ve ever met. He has to be putting this Neanderthal show on for my benefit. He ambles over and flops down on the couch, puts his feet up in the small of my back and pops the cap off the beer he’s holding. He fumbles clumsily for the remote and flicks on the TV.
To give him some credit, he’s only slightly startled when the porno he thought I didn’t know about starts playing. It’s definitely one of the filthier titles he owns, no high-scale production values, no artfully conceived plot, just pure fucking. A blonde woman with pneu- matic tits is getting drilled onscreen, and the devil’s threesome she signed up for has soon turned into an
unstoppable, all-out gangbang.
I feel Kellan shifting on the couch and his heels dig into my back as he wrestles down his underwear so he can tug at his cock with one hand. I glance to the left and almost moan when I see how hard he is. His hand is gliding furiously over his erection, rubbing over the shaft and twisting over the head in a circular motion while he makes these little groaning noises.
He moves his feet, places the bottle of beer squarely in the middle of my back and starts to palm his balls with his now-free hand. I manage to hold the bottle up for nearly half a minute, but I get a mad itch in my foot and that one second of inattention leads to an upended bottle and a stream of liquid trickling over my back, between my buttocks and along the seam of my sex. It’s so cold I almost yelp, but I bite my lip hard and manage to stay silent.
“Aw, shit,” Kellan says, then goes to the kitchen to get a cloth.
His hand is still on his cock when he comes up behind me and starts cleaning me with the cloth, polishing over the long line of my back and down between my legs and up again, as if I truly were made out of wood and he wanted to maintain my finish. His breathing is shaky, and when he leans forward I can feel the rhythm of his wanking behind me.
It’s not long before he’s focusing solely on my pussy, polishing my pearl. When my pleasure overtakes me, I feel like I’m going to pass out. A keening wail rises
from my throat. Kellan falls forward onto me, his head resting in the small of my back, and soon his groans are joining mine. With a hoarse little cry, he spurts his seed all over my upturned ass.
Kellan is the first to speak, once he’s caught his breath.
“We’ll try this again tomorrow,” he says, “and next time, darling, don’t make a sound when you come.”