The pad of her finger pressed against me and I groaned, no longer concerned with the temperature. I wanted her to own me, and I wanted the release I’d been denied when she made herself come on my cock.
She was gentle and slow, working a single finger in and searching around until she found my prostate. I bucked and she purred, rubbing it until my cock was weeping.
“You’re really responsive,” she murmured.
I couldn’t speak, all my sounds muffled by the shirt. My body was speaking for me, though.
It was impossible to stay still when she was teasing me.
Leighton gave me another finger, this one giving me a faint stretch. She didn’t keep teasing me long before she gave me a third, and then she pulled herself away.
I whined. A glance back over my shoulder confirmed she was stroking the dildo, spreading the lube from base to tip. She stepped forward, her clean hand grabbing my hip while the other led the fake cock to my hole.
“Is it going to take you long to come like this?” she asked.
I shook my head. My cock ached already, the orgasm just out of reach. Getting fucked was hands down the quickest way to get me off. I couldn’t stop myself from coming once I’d been filled up.
“Perfect. You’re going to come when I tell you to.”
I failed to nod properly, because the tip speared me. I was loud despite the gag, which was growing increasingly wet with spit. She eased the cock into me, slow and steady, as my hands clutched the back of the couch.
When her thighs were against mine, she paused. “Look at that. Good boy.”
Every time she gave me that praise, I nearly fucking came.
This time was no different. I groaned, fighting back the pleasure.
She pulled out, slamming back against me hard. Choking, I lost my grip on the couch and pitched forward. Leighton caught me, her arm banded around my chest. She turned us, then maneuvered me to kneel on the couch. My head hit the cushions, ass in the air with her behind me.
“There. More comfortable for you, so you don’t need to think about how to stand.”
Her words were vaguely teasing, but not in a cruel way. She seemed pleased that I’d epically failed at staying upright.
And she went hard after getting me in the new position.
I was a mess as she fucked me, my body sliding against the couch cushions. Tears beaded in the corners of my eyes from the effort of holding back my orgasm, because my body was already desperate for one. I wasn’t even able to beg, but I would have. If the shirt hadn’t been preventing me from doing anything more than mumbling, I would have pleaded for permission to come.
Leighton knew it, too.
She was pleased by my neediness, which you could see from the glint in her eyes. It was hard to take my eyes off her, though I had to strain my neck to see her behind me.
“Are you ready to come?” she asked.
I nodded, fingers digging into a nearby pillow almost hard enough to tear a hole in it.
She didn’t give me what I wanted right away, letting my impatience rise for a minute longer before her purr washed over me. “Come for me, baby.”
The orgasm released instantly. The only thing holding it back had been her commands, and without the barrier…
I sobbed against the gag, slamming my hips back onto her strap-on in a desperate attempt to extend the pleasure. My cock jerked, making a mess on the couch beneath me. Leighton kept fucking me until the pleasure turned to oversensitivity and I pulled away, letting out a little whine.
She undid the gag first, and I groaned huskily. “Did that help you reconcile?” she asked.
I licked my dry lips, moaning when she pulled out the dildo and left me empty. My brain wasn’t firing on enough levels to answer that question.
“Maybe,” I mumbled.
Leighton ran a hand down my back. “Be right back.” Her soft footsteps padded away. Water ran, and she was back quickly.
