Slice of Pi 2 (10 page)

“Kiss me.” She wanted to taste herself on his mouth. He crawled up her body and obliged, pressing his mouth to hers, tangling his tongue with hers with all the intensity she could want. One of his hands cupped the back of her head and held her pressed against him. She felt another shiver of pleasure run down her spine, even right after that fantastic orgasm. While he was submissive to her, he definitely wasn't helpless, and she could feel the confidence and power in his body as he moved it leisurely against her during their kiss.

She pulled away and he sat back on his heels again. He didn't touch himself. She hadn't told him he could. Would she be able to have the same self-control, if the positions were reversed? She wasn't sure.

“You did very well.”

“Thank you, Miss.” Although he didn't look cowed at any point in their encounter, she could see him blossom under her praise, his smile becoming less mischievous and more flattered.

The question was, how should she let him come? She could be quite selfish and come again. The impulse was there. But she wasn't sure if her body could handle another mind-altering orgasm like the last one. Instead, she could focus on his orgasm. She wanted to watch him come, but she wanted him to work for it. He was so casually confident, and she itched for that to fall apart in desperation. He might want to serve, but she wanted to see him needy and begging. She felt startled by the sudden desire for his pleading.

“Lie here on the bed, on your back.” She patted the spot next to her. Owen did as she asked, stretching out on his back and keeping his hands by his sides. Iris grabbed the lube off the nightstand and slowly drizzled it, first over the palm of her hand, then over his cock, letting the liquid run down his length. When the cold lube hit his flesh, he made a muffled noise, hips bucking. There, that wiped some of the smirk off his face. Good. After scooting down to sit next to him, she closed her hand around the head of his cock in a loose fist, not squeezing, barely snug. He groaned at the contact.

“Now, just like this, I want you to fuck my hand.” She rested her forearm on her knee so her hand would stay still. “You will ask before you come.”

This time, his groan was longer and louder, a hint of desperation, and he closed his eyes as if it were all too much. This was the first time she'd seen his smile falter, replaced with need. She liked it. In fact, she was shocked at how much she liked it.

Owen started moving. He pushed up into her fist, his cock sliding through her loose grip with what was probably not quite enough friction. He began to fuck harder, humping into the air, searching for release but not able to touch himself because she hadn't told him he could. To her surprise, Iris realized she was getting turned on again.

Owen bent his knees to brace himself on the bed and continued thrusting upward, fucking her hand, the slick-slide sound wet and dirty in the otherwise quiet room. Iris watched, fascinated. He was getting off on this, and honestly, so was she.

“Look at you, fucking the air like a slut.” The words fell from her lips without her really trying. Owen moaned again and kept going, maybe a shade more erratically now. Good. She wanted to get to him, and this was clearly getting to him. “You like this, don't you? So desperate to get off that you'd do whatever I asked?”

Owen nodded. “Yes, Miss,” he breathed, and he kept thrusting. His ego was gone, subsumed in his desire for climax.

“You know this is what you deserve. You don't deserve to fuck me yet. You have to earn that right.”

She thought that might be going too far, but Owen let out a broken noise. “Yes, Miss.” His hips were stuttering now, his release probably close, maybe just out of reach. Iris felt her own arousal and knew that despite that amazing orgasm, she was probably going to rub one out again after Owen left. This was the hottest, filthiest thing she'd seen in a while. She wasn't so cruel as to stop and make him service her again . . . but a tiny, naughty part of her wanted to.

Maybe next time.

“Please, Miss, may I come?” Now his voice sounded desperate. She wanted to hear him like this every time.

“Twenty more strokes, then ask again.” Best not to make it
too
easy for him. “Count them.” To make it even more challenging for him to hold out, she tightened her grip a fraction of an inch. Owen breathed out and kept thrusting, his body straining with the effort of holding back his orgasm as he thrust.

“One . . . two . . . three . . .” His voice sounded breathy, desperate, completely on the edge of sanity. Was he even going to be able to hold out? She waited until he got to fifteen, then tightened even more, so he was fucking her tight, slick fist with every push. His final counts came at a much higher pitch, and his plea was pure need. “Eighteen . . . nineteen . . . twenty, please, Miss, may I come?”

Good enough. “Yes. Come all over yourself.”

Owen let out a gasp and did just that, jerking upward and spilling over his stomach and her hand, thrusting into the air over and over as he emptied himself. He shuddered for long moments afterward, body twitching, then going limp.

Iris leaned back, quite pleased with how everything had gone. This was something she could definitely get used to.

---

Owen was still lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, and didn't move as she approached. When she dragged the towel across the mess on his stomach, he felt himself jump involuntarily. “What? Oh. You don't have to do that.” He reached for the towel with a limp hand.

“It's okay. It's over.” She finished and tossed the towel into the hamper. Owen shivered, a violent, full-body trembling.

“Oh, whoa, that's weird.” He curled up into himself, laughing to downplay his reaction. “I just got really cold. I don't know what's wrong with me.”

“Here, get under the covers.” She helped him slide under the blankets and pulled them up over him. “Let me get you some water.”

Owen wasn't sure whether he was embarrassed or relieved or happy after the session ended, but he did know he was shaking. A lot. The water Iris brought him was cool and refreshing, and he found himself drinking all of it without having realized he wanted to. She refilled the glass, and he drank that one more slowly this time. The water made him feel better, like his head was clearing, but he still was so cold he couldn't stop shivering. He pulled the covers up around him. Maybe he was getting sick. After a few minutes, though, the shivering subsided, and he relaxed.

Iris pulled on a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt, then sat down cross-legged on the bed. Owen began to feel better little by little. The entire sensation was disorienting, as if he was outside his own body watching the events like he was a stranger. That had never happened before. As he started to feel more normal, hydrated, and warming slowly in Iris's bed, he made sense of his reaction.

“Subdrop, I guess.” That made sense based on what he had read about the endorphin crash people could experience after a powerful session. He knew it had physical or emotional effects but had never experienced it himself. “Kind of surprising. I didn't think our session was too intense.” He pushed up to a sitting position and looked around for his clothes before remembering they were on the couch in the other room. At his dismayed look, Iris laughed.

“I'll get your clothes for you.” She disappeared into the living room and came back with the pile. “I read about subdrop. Do you feel sad and worthless? I guess that can happen.”

“No.” Owen got out of bed and started pulling his clothes on. He felt fine, even happy now that the chills had subsided. That was the most adventurous sex he'd had in a while, and they hadn't even done anything particularly exciting. Just to be sure, he analyzed all his feelings. “I'm a little groggy, and suddenly really tired. But that was . . . it was amazing, Iris.” And he meant it. He'd never know she was a novice by the way she'd carried that all off. Of course, he'd read that drop could affect either partner, too, and looked over at Iris. “How about you? How are you feeling?”

She smiled at the praise and the question, standing on the other side of the bed and facing him. Her face was still flushed in the aftermath of their sexual adventures, her perfect hair more mussed than he'd seen it before, and it was a nice look on her. “I feel great, actually. I wasn't sure if I was going too far, though.” She pursed her lips, pausing, then continued. “Can we talk about this in the other room?”

“Sure.”

While Owen settled down on the couch, Iris went into the kitchen. “What do you want to drink? More water? Beer? Coffee?”

“Water's fine.”

Iris joined him on the couch with water for each of them. As she sat down, her stomach gave a loud gurgle, and she laughed. “How about pizza?”

Owen checked the clock. It was definitely his dinnertime. “I'd love to eat. I could cook if you want.”

He could feel her gazing at him, so he made eye contact and was surprised at the look of disbelief and suspicion on her face. “Do you not like pizza?” she asked. Before Owen could ask for clarification, Iris explained. “I mean, if you don't want pizza, just say so. You don't have to cook. We could get Chinese.” She got up off the sofa again and then rejoined him with a handful of take-out menus.

Owen laughed at the misunderstanding. “No, I like pizza. I offered because I also like to cook.”

Iris wrinkled her nose. “If you say so. But if it's all right with you, I'll just order in.” She held up the menus. “Any preferences?”

“I didn't even know there were this many delivery places around here.” He combed through the menus, then tossed them back at her. “I don't know. Get something good. No onions or mushrooms.”

Iris raised an eyebrow. “You're into food. Aren't you supposed to like everything?”

“Not on pizza.”

Iris rolled her eyes good-naturedly and pulled one of the pizza menus out. Once she'd called in her order, she tossed the menus and her phone onto the coffee table and turned to him with the air of someone bracing themselves for bad news. “Okay. So, how was that scene for you? I didn't go too far, did I?”

Owen smiled. Her concern was adorable, and totally unfounded. “No, you were great. Hit a bunch of my hot buttons.”

“What were the parts you liked the best?”

He was going to have to get used to talking about these things out loud. It still felt strange, discussing the fantasies he'd kept to himself for so long, even though he was now getting to act some of them out. “I liked when you told me I had to earn the right to come. I really liked going down on you.” He was gratified to see Iris go pink and avert her eyes. “It was embarrassing to have to come in the way that you made me, but that was good, too. I didn't want it to be too easy.” The next part was the hard part, the part that felt embarrassing to admit, even with his comfort in this aspect of his sexuality. “I really liked being made to ask. I thought you might not let me come, and that was hot.”

“Oh really?” Iris looked back at him, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, really.” He grinned, challenging her to push the issue. “What about you? What did you think for your first time?”

“I was . . .” Iris paused and looked off into the middle distance, her eyes going soft and losing focus in thought. “I was more into it than I thought I'd be. I knew it would be fun, but it was more than fun.” She ducked her head, smiling shyly. “It was fucking hot. I liked telling you what to do and having you just obey me.” She pulled a throw pillow into her lap and ran one hand along the seam. “Best sex I've had in a while.”

“So where do we go from here?” He didn't want to push her, but he wanted her to know where he stood. “I would love to do this again sometime if you're game.”

Iris looked up from her pillow, wrinkling her nose and cocking her head in disbelief. “Really? You like having me boss you around?”

“I think my reaction was proof enough, wasn't it?” Her disbelief amused him. “Come on, Iris. Is it that hard to believe?”

“I just don't understand it.” She shook her head and put her feet up on the coffee table. “You're confident, put together, suave. I just don't expect you to be a guy who wants to submit.”

“Suave? You think I'm suave?” He sat up straighter on the couch, grinning, and Iris actually turned pink.

“Shut up.” She shoved him affectionately. “I'm just trying to figure you out.”

In her lounging clothes with her hair askew, eyes averted, Iris looked cuter than Owen had ever seen her. He felt a swell of affection that was dangerous, spurred on by the combination of letting down his guard with a mixture of post-sex hormones. “Figure me out how?”

Iris opened her mouth, then closed it and pursed her lips. She wrapped both arms around the throw pillow and hugged it. “I was wondering how much you want to be controlled.”

He smiled. “What did you have in mind?”

“Did you really like not knowing if you were going to be allowed to come or not?” Iris's blue eyes sparkled with mischief. He was going to love and hate that look in the future, he knew it.

“Yeah. I'm into that.” He hoped she was going where he thought she was going.

“How would you feel about asking for permission all the time?”

Owen felt his body respond. “You want to control all of my orgasms?”

Iris nodded. “I was thinking about it. Is that something you'd like, or is that too much for you?”

Owen's dick gave a hard twitch. This was his favorite fantasy, the one he never thought he'd get to have. “So I would text you and ask permission to jerk off?”

Iris nodded, clearly encouraged by his response and gaining confidence all the while. “You'll have to wait until you hear back from me. And sometimes I'll tell you no.” She hesitated, drawing back physically and frowning. “That's really all right?”