Authors: Tenille Brown
Can't Get Enough (23 page)
The most extreme orgasm he'd ever experienced hit while he was walking through the door, as the bell rang. He clung to the door frame, convulsing with pleasure. He hadn't meant to touch them. Smooth wood replaced the number etching and the blue balls were now a pinkish color.
Behind the counter the gypsy stood fiddling with her merchandise. He collapsed, chest on the counter. “Fix it. You have to make it work.” He offered her the wooden box. “Please.”
She used her gargantuan hands to open his precious box. “It's empty, sir. Were you looking for a charm or good luck piece to fit in here? I have some very nice talismans.”
“No! I want the blue balls back and I want them now.” The few other customers rushed out the door.
“I'm sorry, sir, about your, um,
blue ball
situation, but we don't carry sex toys here.” The old biddy turned her nose up and began dusting the glass case.
“You sold me this. I want another one. Do you have another wooden box under the counter? I'll pay whatever you ask.” Gus wept, begging her to acknowledge him.
“Oh, you want one of my wooden boxes. Why didn't you just say so?” Her dangly earrings made music as she bent to retrieve a wooden box much like the first one. Relief gushed through him.
“That will be one thousand dollars.” She held out her palm, waiting. Gus paid without protest and ran to his car, box in hand.
He made himself wait until he got home to open the wooden box. This meant 100 more chances and he wouldn't waste them as he had before. He'd schedule his orgasms this time. Heck, he would go out on dates and have real sex to prolong using his balls. It wasn't like he didn't know how to socialize when he needed to.
Plan made, Gus sat on the side of the bed, holding his most precious commodity. “I'll just take a peek before I put it in the drawer.”
He opened the box and foundâ¦a fortune cookie. Puzzled, he cracked it open. Inside was a small slip of paper that read,
Take her to dinner you dumb bastard!
Gus threw the fortune into the bedside table drawer and pulled out a little black book, rubbing his balls and then shifting them a bit. He dialed the first number on the page.
“Hello, Gina?”
V
ictoria was glad the restaurant was packed. It meant the food should be as good as the reviews claimed.
“Right this way,” the hostess said, leading her and Blake through a crowded path of tables situated too close together.
She'd wanted to fuck him before they went out, to sit on his face for a good hour or so and relax. But they'd made the reservations over a month ago, and places such as this one in Manhattan weren't always easy to get into.
So she'd had to delay her sexual releaseâdespite having him greet her at the door naked, kneeling, in his collar. A lovely sight to see after a long day of workâ¦calling her authors, editing manuscripts, and meeting with one of her favorite literary agents for lunch.
There just hadn't been enough time to use him the way he loved to be usedâfor her pleasure alone.
“May we have that booth in the back?” Victoria asked, and slid the hostess a tip before she could protest that the booth was meant for a larger party.
“Yes, ma'am, I think we can arrange that.” The hostess smiled and they followed.
Victoria wanted the seclusion of the leather-upholstered red circular booth, where she and her slave could enjoy themselves properly.
Blake took her coat and draped it neatly next to him, helping her slide in across the leather, and the hostess departed.
“Thank you, Little Blake.”
He raised his eyebrows at her use of his pet name, the name she reserved for when they were alone together. When he was wearing his collar and not much else. His dark, shaggy hair fell into his eyes and she smiled.
“It's my pleasure, Mistress,” he murmured.
God, he was so cute. Absolutely adorable, and all hers.
Victoria took her house keys from her purse and rolled them in her hand, enjoying the expression on his handsome young face. Enjoyed making him wonder what she was going to do, here, now.
At the restaurant.
With a manipulated clumsy gesture, she let the keys fall from her fingers and under the table.
“Get the keys.”
Blake obeyed immediately, ducking beneath the table. But when he started to rise, she stopped him with a pinch to his lean, muscular shoulder.
And so he remained under the table as the waiter approached them.
“What can I get you?” the man asked. He wasn't nearly as sweet and subservient as Blake had been when she first met him, when he'd waited on her at the diner. Too bad.
“My partner forgot something, but he'll be back. In the meantime, I'd like to order just for myself. I don't know how long he'll
be gone, and I'm starving for somethingâ¦satisfying.”
“Sounds good,” the waiter said, and took her order of a carafe of red wine and grilled chicken.
When he was gone, Victoria put her hand under the table, tangling her fingers in Blake's hair. He didn't say a word when she pulled his hair sharply, but she could tell by his shoulders that he'd arranged himself on his knees, the way he normally did at her feet.
“Too bad Blake won't get to eat anything tonight,” she said quietly, as if to herself. “Then again, he does need to eat
something
.”
At her words, she could practically feel his grin from under the table.
He maneuvered his body between her legs. She wasn't wearing any underwear underneath her skirt, and already her pussy dampened at the thought of him readying himself to service her.
The waiter returned with her wine, and she smiled and thanked him as she pressed her stiletto heel into the tender flesh of Blake's assâat least it felt like where his ass was, based on how her legs were positioned.
No sound. The boy was good.
She took a deep sip of the wine, letting it wash away her day, and willed herself to relax into the moment. After all, she had a very willing slave between her legs, ready to spend as much time as necessary to pleasure her.
For all he knew, her pussy would be his only meal this evening. The thought made her smile.
Blake reached tentatively between her legs, running his strong hands along the sensitive skin on her inner thighs. A shudder of desire coursed through her, but she focused on the wine, taking another sip.
Now. Lick me now.
But he was taking his sweet time, carefully spreading her nether lips, stroking her clit with his fingers. Did he deserve another pinch?
And then, his mouth. Hot and wet, his tongue covered her shaved pussy, licking her slowly.
Another sip of wine.
Everything about the moment aroused her. The public place, the unaware patrons mere feet away from them, and the feel of his hair tickling the inside of her thighs.
She inhaled sharply and pulled her phone out, scrolling through her email so that she wouldn't look strange sitting by herself. There was no way to keep her face completely neutral, not with his mouth on her pussy, his lips pressing againstâ
Ahh fuck yeah
âand so she pretended to be working while she waited for her food.
This time, when the waiter returned, she pressed her heel into Blake even harder, willing him to keep going, keep going. He did, and the waiter served her the chicken and left.
The fork slipped from her grasp as Blake sucked her clit into his mouth, gently nibbling it, giving her everything he had.
But she lifted her silverware again and cut her food, sliding a piece of chicken in a delicious sauce past her lips.
“That tastes so good,” she murmured. “I wish Blake could taste this.”
He responded by licking her with even more fervor, her thighs spread beneath the tablecloth, held apart with his hands, and she pinched him to remind him to slow down, to take his time.
After all, the meal was quite good. She had a lot of emails to answer. She could be there for a while until the appropriate time for Blake to “return” from his absence presented itself.
The thought of Blake under the table, not knowing how long he'd be there, locked between her thighs, brought on a wave of pleasure, and she closed her legs around him, holding him in place.
He licked her the way she'd trained him, with reverence and hunger, and she came hard, silently, controlling herself so that she wouldn't give away their game.
She poured another glass of wine and took another sip. Delicious.
Every meal should be like this
, she mused.
Blake waited patiently at her feet while she ate a few more bites of her meal, letting her sensitive post-climactic clit take a moment, before she ran her fingers through his hair, lightly scraping her nails across his scalp and along his ears.
How was he doing, during all of this? With a slight movement, as if crossing her legs or shifting her weight, Victoria slid one stiletto off and ran her naked foot over his muscular leg, until she found his cock.
He was so hard it had to be painful. The thought appealed.
She slowly, tortuously, rubbed her foot against the rigid length, just long enough to feel his breath panting desperately against her pussy, and then she stopped.
Blake pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, and she smiled. He must want to come so badly, but it didn't matter. Tonight was about her. And since it pleased her, she'd torture his hard cock as much as she wanted to without letting him come.
Very carefully, she slipped her heel back on, and ran the sharp stiletto along his cock, letting Blake feel her power over him.
“We're not done,” she said softly, so only he could hear, and pinched his shoulder again.
He took the cue and went back at it, licking her clit with a longing so intense she had to force herself to eat her meal while
he sucked her or she'd come again too quickly.
Her muscles quivered as he continued, an enormous pressure building within her until she climaxed, holding Blake so tightly with her legs she imagined she was cutting off his oxygen supply.
When he'd drawn out every last moment of her orgasm, she took another sip of wine, and checked the time on her phone. She looked around. No one was looking their way.
“Okay,” she said, and gave him a playful kick.
“I found the keys, Ma'am,” Blake said as he slid back up into the booth, holding them in his hand. His hair was disheveled, and he looked like the college kid he was. Adorable.
And all hers.
“Oh yes,” she smiled. “You most definitely did.”
I
'm tired of kissing your ass!”
Ralph was pulling his black T-shirt down over his flat, fuzzy abdomen, his gray eyes scanning the room for his belongings.
They were ugly words coming from such sexy lips, but Macy wasn't surprised. Ralph was quick tempered just like she was, which was probably why they weren't going to make it for the long haul.
Macy first folded her lips, and then she bit down on them hard. She wanted to tell Ralph that she had never asked him to kiss her ass and she wouldn't let him do it now, anyway, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of a response.
As she stood in the bedroom, Macy's ass was naked and chilly, as they had been in the middle of a pretty good fuck when the argument started.
One wrong word was all it tookâthat's all it ever took with Macyâand she was storming out of the bedroom in a rage.
She didn't care
who
didn't get their orgasm.
“Sometimes, I swear, Macy, you're just not worth the trouble,” he had said in the middle of sliding his cock between her hungry lips.
All because she had asked him to shift a little, and lean back a little more, and that had been it. Ralph had gone from zero to one hundred in an instant.
And Macy let him. Now she stepped aside and opened the door for him.
She said, “Get the fuck out, Ralph.”
Ralph opened his mouth, and then he closed it again. Then he walked out, the buckle on his still loosened jeans clanging loudly.
Ralph was a drummer Macy had met at an indie concert during the summer and to both her surprise and his, he had managed to stick around five months. But today he had just walked his last walk with her.
Before Ralph, of course, there had been Juan, and before that, Sly.
But every time, they had done something, they had all done or said something to fuck it all up.
Some people said Macy's patience was short, or she was too choosy, or nitpicky, but Macy knew that she was simply a no-nonsense type of girl. On her own in New York City since the age of nineteen, she'd had no choice.
Now, at twenty-seven, Macy had made her way in this city and no way was she turning back.