Slice of Pi 2 (14 page)

Owen wiped her juices off his face and set the towel aside. She still hadn't given him specific instructions, so he remained where he was, kneeling beside the bed, his face and mind blissfully blank. Iris moved back into his field of vision and began undressing. Owen didn't look away as her beautiful body was revealed. He loved the way she moved without shame, baring herself to him, before lying back on the bed. She gestured him over to her with one beckoning finger.

When he got to his feet, he barely felt his stiff legs, his body was so eager for more. Iris parted her legs and pointed between them. Owen knelt there and waited, his heartbeat surprisingly steady.

“Touch yourself for me.” Iris ran a hand down her body and over her mound, one finger lazily dipping into the wetness between her legs. “I want to watch you.”

The first touch of Owen's own hand on his cock took his breath away. He'd been so turned on with no contact at all, and now the contact was nearly too much. He kept stroking as she watched.

“I liked watching you the other night.” She licked her lips, rubbing her clit in slow circles. “Do you like having things up your ass?”

Owen's grip faltered before he recovered. “Sometimes.” He wasn't always in the mood for it.

“Have you ever let a girl fuck your ass?”

He couldn't help smiling, not because it was funny, but because she was brave enough to ask. “Not yet.”

She returned his smile. “A very good answer.” Her eyes fell closed and her hand began moving faster, her hips shifting up against her own touch. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze was soft and aroused. Her lips parted and she ran her tongue over them. “Tell me when you're getting close.”

It didn't take him long, of course, with so much arousal ahead of time. “I'm close now.” He slowed down enough to keep from edging, enjoying the pleasure of the stroking while staving off the need to come.

“Me, too.” Iris stopped, visibly reluctant to do so. Her eyes had gone glazed and unfocused, breasts heaving with each breath. She handed him a condom from the nightstand. “I want you to fuck me until I come again. You aren't allowed to come.”

Oh fuck, but that was hot. The slick, snug latex over his hard cock was its own tease. This was not going to be easy, but damn, it was going to be incredible. At her beckoning gesture, he settled into the cradle of her thighs.

As he positioned himself, he couldn't help thinking how this was so much different from their sex in the Clearwater Beach hotel room, with her riding him to orgasm. Here, he was going to do all the work, as he should, and she was going to reap all the pleasure. Through his actions, he could bring her to climax again, and that was the reward he should seek. When he glided the head of his cock inside, though, he wanted more. He wanted to come. Each tight, wet inch of her was like a sweet torture that he didn't want to end.

When he had bottomed out, and she was snug around him like a fist, he had to stop to breathe, deliberately relaxing his muscles to keep from coming. With his body under control, he started to move inside her. She shifted her hips up and moaned, a needy, desperate sound, and that was nearly enough to put him over the edge. He found a rhythm for his thrusts that wouldn't push him too far, as long as he concentrated. As he kept fucking, he realized it was entirely possible that she couldn't come from penetration alone, and she was going to have him keep fucking her while she remained perpetually close and not coming, using her own orgasm as an unreachable finish line that doomed him to failure. The thought of it, far from dissuading him, only turned him on more.

His hard thrust made Iris gasp underneath him, and Owen turned his attention to her face, her expression lost in rapture. God, she was beautiful. Beautiful and passionate and dominant, and he wanted to please her like no one ever had. Shifting his weight to one side, he slid a hand down between their bodies, managing to press against her clit with a clumsy thumb while he kept driving into her. She arched up to meet his thrusts, her pussy so tight that he could feel her muscles trembling around his length. Another few thrusts, a few circles on her swollen clit, and she clenched around him like a vise and cried out her pleasure. Her muscles rippled all around his cock. He had to focus on her, her pleasure, her happiness, her face contorted in ecstasy, but it wasn't going to be enough. God, he couldn't hold back, not with her tight and squeezing and wet, so wet, and just as he was about to give in, she stopped and pulled back so he was withdrawn from her warmth.

Owen was left trembling and close, his cock twitching, a breath away from his own orgasm. He waited until his climax wasn't so imminent, despite his body's desperation, and sat back to remove the condom. He had to be careful not to touch himself too much as he did so or he was going to come. Damn, he wanted to come.

“You did so well.”

He looked back at Iris, his whole body full of need, but the approving look in her eyes made a rush of pleasure run through him. It wasn't an orgasm, not anywhere near, but pleasing her brought its own form of satisfaction. “Thank you, Miss.”

“Do you want to come?” she asked.

Owen nodded, knowing he looked desperate. “Yes, please, Miss.”

Iris studied him. He could feel her sizing him up, wondering how far to push this, and in his currently submissive state, he would have done whatever she had asked.

“Who owns your orgasms?” she asked him.

The question itself made him shudder head to toe, because hearing that tone of voice was so hot. “You do, Miss.”

“Good. Now calm yourself down and get dressed. We're done here.” She swung her legs out of bed and went to her bureau for clothes.

It was a few minutes before Owen felt composed enough to get dressed. His cock was still throbbing with the denial, and even though he hated it, he was surprised how much he loved it, too. He walked into her bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face. The shock was enough to calm him a bit. When he came back into the bedroom, Iris was pulling on pajama pants over a pair of cute purple-and-white-striped cotton panties. She then tugged on a T-shirt from the same drawer. His bag was sitting on the bed from where she had retrieved it from the kitchen in his absence, and he began pulling on the comfortable clothes he'd brought for after.

Iris picked up the towel from the floor and tossed it into the hamper in the corner. When she stepped into his line of vision and made eye contact, her face was soft with concern. “Was that okay?”

Owen nodded. His hands were still trembling, but his mind seemed surprisingly calm. He ran a hand through his hair. “I need something to drink, though. And a few minutes to calm down.”

“Well, let's go into the living room. Come on.” Iris led the way to the couch.

Owen felt silly letting her cover him with a blanket and get him a glass of water. Even though his mind was calm, his body was reacting strangely. He reminded himself that this was his first real experience with orgasm denial. Maybe these responses were normal. As he was finishing the water, she came over with a cup of tea for each of them and sat next to him on the couch. While he drank his tea, she rubbed his back. Her touch was soothing and he didn't want her to stop. Under her touch, he relaxed, his erection finally ebbing all the way, his denial a perverse form of satisfaction deep under his skin.

---

She had definitely pushed things too far this time. Owen didn't look like his casually confident self, his whole demeanor was different from what she usually saw. He closed his eyes at her touch, though, and wasn't trembling anymore. Hopefully he'd be up to talking soon because she needed to debrief this whole thing.

“So, that was intense.” Owen broke the silence after a few minutes. His voice sounded normal, even relaxed. She hadn't expected that.

“For me, too.” In scene, she'd felt like an entirely different person, like she'd tapped into this side of herself that she'd never felt before. Strangely, though, it was easy to slip into this dominance. What frightened her was the ease with which she'd been able to channel these feelings. If she was this person underneath, what did it mean for her identity? Her sense of self? These questions were way too challenging to face in the afterglow of two incredible orgasms. “Is it bad that I liked telling you no?”

Owen grinned. In his smile, she saw more of the regular Owen, the Owen who wasn't being submissive in scene. “Bad for you, or bad for me? I think it's great for you. Not sure it's great for me.” Then he chuckled. “I'm not kidding anyone. I love this stuff. Maybe I shouldn't tell you that, but it's true.”

Iris returned his smile and felt herself relax. This was all right. She could indulge in this side of herself because Owen was into it, too. None of it had to mean anything.

Just then, Owen gave a huge yawn. “Oh, sorry.” He looked at the clock. “Are you going to make fun of me if I tell you it's almost my bedtime?”

Iris looked at the clock. “Eight o'clock? Seriously?”

“So the answer is apparently yes, you're going to make fun of me.” He made a face at her and cradled his mug of tea in both hands. “You do know I get up at three-thirty most days, right?”

“But you have tomorrow off, right?” Iris took a sip from her own tea. The peppermint tasted soothing.

“Technically, but I told you, I don't really take days off. Sleeping in for me is six o'clock. I haven't slept past six in years.”

Iris shuddered. “That is not normal.”

Owen smiled, shaking his head. “Not normal to you, maybe.”

“Can't the shop run without you?” Iris shifted. He was warm, and she wanted to curl up in his arms, but that crossed some kind of emotional line. Instead, she settled into the curve of his side. He draped his arm across her shoulders and she didn't object.

“Yeah, they can run things without me, but the shop runs better when I'm there.” Obviously, because he'd been owner and manager ever since he'd bought the place.

“You should get yourself a general manager so you can actually take time off.” Iris sipped her tea. He had begun idly playing with her hair, and it felt so nice she didn't want it to end.

“I like my job, though.” His tone didn't sound convincing, but Iris didn't call him on it. “Well, I like parts of my job.”

“Would you rather manage or bake?”

“Bake.” The answer was immediate and entirely truthful.

She shrugged, one shoulder rising and falling under his embracing arm. “Then hire someone to manage the books and the orders and whatever you do that you don't like. It'll free you up to bake more.”

Owen was quiet, but she felt his muscles stiffen next her. After a minute or so, he relaxed. “Maybe. We'll see.”

Iris thought about him in the kitchen, rolling dough and shaping pastries, his muscles working, and smiled at the mental image. Hot. “You can stay over tonight if you want, but I have to go to work in the morning.”

“No, I should go.” Owen disentangled himself from her and stood up to bring his empty mug to the kitchen.

“How are you feeling? Still all atwitter?” Iris smiled.

Owen laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “You have no idea. You might kill me, you know.”

“You're supposed to check with your doctor that your heart is healthy enough for sexual activity.” Iris batted her eyes at him. “We might just have to stop if you're going to get worked up like this.” She felt they were developing enough of a rapport that she could tease him.

“Oh yeah?” Grinning devilishly, Owen approached the sofa. He pressed his hands into the back of the couch on either side of her shoulders and leaned in, caging her with his body. “You want to see how worked up I can get?”

He was teasing, but Iris felt her body respond to him. Rather than yielding, she felt a spark, a desire to put him on his knees in front of her and make him beg. She was caught off guard by how strongly she felt that need. Reaching up, she took his chin in her hand and forced him to look into her eyes. “If I want you worked up, you'll be worked up, is that clear?”

Owen's chocolate-brown eyes darkened, his lips parting, and he smiled. “Yes, Miss.” Easily breaking her grip, he leaned over to press a kiss to her mouth.

It was probably supposed to be a gentle goodbye kiss. But as soon as he kissed her, Iris felt a rush of emotion, and before she knew it she was up on her knees dragging his mouth down to hers. He seemed just as overwhelmed, one of his hands cupping the back of her head while his other wrapped around her back. He knelt down to get a better angle and hold her against him.

Wait, what was she doing? Iris pulled back, and Owen's expression was as needy as she knew her own must be. God, one kiss and she got completely swept away. She couldn't have this. She could feel herself needing him, wanting him with some deep and primal emotion, more than sex and less than love. She was drawn to him.

Before she could get into that any more, she released him and sat back. “So I'll talk to you soon.” Her voice sounded breathless.

Owen licked his lips. From where he knelt in front of her, his eyes lust-filled and longing, Iris could almost reach out and kiss him again. She couldn't believe how much she wanted to.

“When can I see you again?” he asked.

That might be “When can I see you again so I can come,” but it could also be, “I want to see you again no matter what.” Iris didn't want to analyze which it might be. She wanted to say “tomorrow,” but they could both probably use some space.

“How about Saturday?” An idea occurred to her, something she'd been considering since their video call the other night. “I thought we could go toy shopping.”

Owen closed his eyes and exhaled. “You're trying to kill me, aren't you?”

“Oh come on.” Iris waited until he was looking at her again, then batted her eyes. “It'll be fun. Maybe you can earn the right to come?”