Page 59 of Never Less
“Use your words, beautiful.”
“Yes,” I moan. “Please, Marcus. I want you.”
“You’ve got me.” With his lips against my neck, he strokes my clit in just the way I like.
I melt into him and close my eyes. Everything just feels so… right with the world. It’s a stark contrast to how I felt before I let myself get with Marcus, and I think that means something. I’ve never cared this deeply about someone in my life, and I doubt I ever will again.
Marcus pulls his hand away, and just as I’m about to protest, his fingers brush against my lips. “Taste yourself, little star. Taste how badly you need me.”
I suck my arousal off his fingers, making sure to get every last drop. The musky, tangy taste coats my tongue, and once I’m finished, Marcus tilts my head toward him. His mouth meets mine in a hungry kiss that makes my stomach do a little backflip.
“More,” I tell him, my lips brushing his as I guide his hand back into my shorts.
“That’s my girl. Taking what she wants from me.”
He goes back to circling my clit, setting a pace that’ll have me coming in no time. But I know better than to think it’ll actually happen. He won’t let me come—not yet, anyway.
Over the last six months, Marcus has thoroughly explored my body. Something he’s loved doing since the very beginning is edging me until I’m about to lose my mind and then shoving me into a mind-blowing orgasm that tends to leave me delirious from the pleasure.
Pretty quickly, I learned that when he does that, it flips some kind of switch in my body. If he gets me worked up enough, then he can make me come as many times as he wants, usually pretty quickly—not that he ever lets it happen fast.
This time is no different. Marcus builds the tension in my body to its highest point, stopping his movements just in time to keep me from coming. It took some getting used to, but now I crave it. I like not being in control of my orgasms, and while I wouldn’t give that power to just anyone, I surrendered it to Marcus months ago.
I have no plans to take it back.
Four more times, Marcus gets me to the point where I’m almost falling, only to gently pull me back. Despite the cool night air and the fact that we aren’t under the blankets we brought out, I’m covered in a light layer of sweat. This time, Marcus keeps me close to the edge, so close that I’m sure he’s about to let me come.
My body clenches, and just as I’m about to explode, Marcus slows his finger to a stop. I choke on a gasp as the sensations fade, my body teetering on the precipice for a split second before relaxing.
“God, I love toying with you like this.” Marcus slips a finger inside me, chuckling at my pitiful whimper. “You can’t get enough of it, can you? Of me doing whatever the fuck I want to you and making you take it.”
I bite my lip to stop myself from begging. No matter how badly I want to come, he’s right. I don’t want anything else but the way he touches me.
“You just keep getting wetter and wetter. Can’t get enough, can you?”
“I never will,” I say, turning so I can kiss him again. I’m basically on my back now, looking up at him through the darkness. I can’t really see him, just the outline of his silhouette against the backdrop of the stars behind him. “I’ll always want more of you.”
This time, when our lips meet, I let out a small sigh of contentment. Marcus brings a single finger back to my clit, reviving the near-orgasm that he always keeps from dying out completely. This time, when he works me up, he doesn’t slow down or stop. He keeps moving at the exact same pace while I gasp for air, his finger pulling my body tight.
When the orgasm hits, it’s like a lighting strike, cracking me wide open and searing through me. A scream forces its way past my lips as my body spasms under Marcus’s hands. He doesn’t stop, adjusting himself so he can plunge three fingers inside of me and still work my clit with his thumb.
“Marcus,” I cry. It’s all too much—too intense. I try to squirm away, but he keeps me firmly in place.
“Uh-uh, I know you can handle it. Now be a good girl and let me take care of you.”
I cry out again, a useless protest. When he wants me to have an orgasm, I’ve got little choice in the matter. I could back out if I really needed to, but I like seeing how far he can push my body. So I lean into him while he works me from one orgasm right into another.
“That’s it,” he says, his voice deep with satisfaction. “Come again. I want you nice and ready for me before I fuck you.”
I’m not sure if it’s his voice, the promise of his dick inside me, or his expert fingers rubbing against my clit, but I come again, still not fully recovered from the first. It takes me by surprise, like wearing a blindfold on a roller coaster and not knowing when the big drop is coming.
Marcus doesn’t let me rest for more than a few seconds. He drags a finger through my arousal, the sound of it loud in the stillness of the night. He takes it easy on my clit at first, building me up before letting me fall again.
This round, he takes his time, whispering words of praise in my ear. He does it again and again and again, so many times that I lose track of everything—where we are, how much time has passed, how many times I’ve come tonight. The only things I’m fully aware of are the weight of his ring on my finger and the fact that we’re here together.
It’s not until Marcus finally pulls his hand away that I blink up at the sky, my mind registering the stars for the first time in what feels like hours. I’m shaking and well past sated, yet somehow my body still wants more. I crave to be filled, to feel his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of me.
But that’s not the only thing I want.
