Page 55 of Capricorn
“Match this pace,” he commands, withdrawing, then pressing back in. “Not faster. Not slower. I want you right on the edge.”
I hum around his salty skin, following his rhythm with trembling focus as I rub myself in tandem.
Oliver shifts, bracing an elbow on the mattress.
“Wider,” he says, deepening the motion, adding another digit.
I stretch my jaw for him, and he smirks.
“Both your mouth and your legs.”
So I spread even more.
“Yes, that’s it. Let the air ground you. Let it be the one thing that holds you in check.”
But I’m not sure I can control myself with him so close. His commands direct every aspect of this show, and I’m an actress under his tutelage.
“You’re doing so well. Now push your finger into that pretty cunt. I want to hear how wet you are.”
I work a single digit into my tight, slick walls. Need builds as my thumb drifts back to my nub.
“No more clit.” His fingers thrust into my throat, triggering a gag that rips my focus away. “You’re too close.”
Unbidden, my groan turns guttural, but the edge stays out of reach, held at bay by Oliver’s maddening pace.
He’s the master of patience, demanding I surrender with every slow stroke against my tongue. So when he suddenly yanks my wrist away and sucks my soaked fingers into his mouth, I’m caught off guard.
“Mmm, you taste incredible.” He guides my hand between my thighs again. “What do you want, Novalee?”
“I want to come.”
“I can leave and let you finish alone.” He nips my ear with his teeth. “Is that what you want?”
“After all these weeks, that’s your move?”
“If you want me to make you come, you have to say the word.”
“What word?” I gasp, dazed with lust. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” His pointed statement sends my mind straight to that locked door.
I do know, and it’s the knowing that winds around my windpipe.
“Please, Oliver,” I whisper, pride nowhere to be found.
“Please, what?”
“Please…” Primed and shameless, I close my eyes and succumb to the inevitable. “Sir.”
That’s all he needs. In a fluid motion, he sweeps me into his arms and carries me to the forbidden door I’ve spent the month avoiding.
“Once we step inside,” he says, lowering me to my feet, “your virginity is the only thing off-limits.” He grasps my nape. “You’ll be mine until morning.”
“The whole night?”
“At my mercy until sunrise.”
“Will you hurt me?” My voice cracks, tendrils of fear snaking free.
