Telling Tales (21 page)

And Wade does. He has Kitty pin my wrists to the bed, and once she does so I can see her hovering above me. I can see how long her blonde hair looks, dangling around her face, and how pretty her mouth is, curled into that devilish smile.

But more than that, I can see how easy it is to trust her, and I know that no matter what Wade has planned she’ll always be there for me.

Even if being there for me means she gets to lick one wicked, pointed tongue over my right nipple.

Of course, I buck immediately. Not because it’s a woman touching me in such an intimate way, or because it feels good, but because the two things cross at some unholy intersection inside me and I can’t stand it, for a second. A great bloom of pleasure swells once, sharply, between my legs, and the moment it’s died down she licks the other nipple.

You know. Just for good measure.

And I’m not even embarrassed about the fact that after she’s done it, both of the little tips of my tits are standing out proud beneath the material of my nightie. You can even see where she’s marked me, you can see the wet circles over my stiff buds, and oh it’s a sight that doesn’t just impress me.

It impresses Wade too, who moans and cups his rigid cock. And it impresses Cameron, even though I’m sure he doesn’t want it to. He strains against the bonds he made me tie, and his great chest rises and falls, raggedly.

But oh, it’s his prick I can’t tear my eyes away from, his big, swollen prick, curving up so steeply that it’s almost kissing his belly. It makes me want to beg for it, to squirm on the bed and beg for them to let me go so I can climb him like a rock face and slide right down over that stiff pole, but that’s not what this is about.

It’s about tormenting
him
, about making
him
feel it, and so I turn back to Wade with some effort and beg for what he’s got instead.

“Fuck my cunt,” I tell him, and I don’t do it just because I crave it, because my sex feels shivery and achy and I need it to be filled. I do it because it’s the opposite of everything I ever imagined saying to Wade—no
Make
love
to
me
. No
I
need
you
so
badly
. Just those raw words, and oh…I think he knows it.

Some of the greedy light goes out of his eyes—the way it did when I told him about mooning over him—and he hesitates for just a second. But then I spread my legs for him, as wide as they will go, and as I do so my nightie rides up until he can’t fail to see everything I’ve got down there.

And, oh God, I’m so wet already. I’m so messy—all over my thighs and down between the cheeks of my ass. His face goes slack and I know he can see it, but it’s Kitty who brings it all into sharp focus.

“Is she all slippery?” she asks, and as she does so she pushes her hands under the flimsy neckline of this stupid cotton thing, to cup my breasts.

More than cup, in fact. She rubs over my stiff nipples and squeezes the abundance of flesh in her two tiny hands, making me moan and writhe on the bed in a way I completely didn’t know I was capable of.

But I writhe harder when Wade replies with even dirtier things.

I mean, of course he does. Him and Kitty are practically playing a game of sex-upmanship, by this point.

“She’s so wet I can see it glistening, on her inner thighs. And her clit is real, real stiff.”

Oh God, oh God, I don’t think I can stand this. And him saying those words isn’t even the worst thing about this scenario, because after he’s said them he turns to Cameron with that shark-like grin on his face, and says: “What do you think, man? You think I should stroke her little bud?”

Cameron doesn’t reply, naturally. I think all the muscles in his lower jaw have locked up, and for a moment I feel almost frantic inside. Like I’m just bursting with the need to put a stop to this, and bring him into the fold.

But the thing is—he hasn’t said the safe word. He hasn’t said anything at all. I can’t do anything unless he tells me, because to do so would mean I was letting him down in some way. It would mean I don’t trust his judgment of what he wants for himself, that I don’t trust the limits of his own fantasy, and I can’t have that.

Not even when Wade continues, in that same teasing tone of voice.

“Think I should lick her? It looks like she could really do with a tongue through that hot little slit of hers, tasting all of that honey she’s produced. But then again, could be she needs something more than that…”

He lets the words trail away to nothing, though I’m guessing there’s no one in the room who can’t guess what he means. He means his cock, of course he means his cock, or at least I think he does until he takes us all on a little trip down memory lane.

“I mean, you wouldn’t believe what I caught her doing the other day.”

Uh-oh.

“Apparently, her fingers just weren’t enough for her. She was using a big, thick plastic cock, and oh man she was riding it like she just couldn’t get enough.” He pauses—for extra impact, probably. “Weren’t you, baby?”

I glance at Cameron, then, to see how he’s reacting. But the problem is, I can’t get anything from his expression apart from
Fuck, I really need to tear Wade in two, then take you roughly against something.

There’s no specific, I-don’t-want-to-hear-about-that-time- you-and-Wade-did-stuff-together type resentment on his face. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t there, and the longer Wade talks the more panicky I feel, until I don’t know where arousal ends and a full-on mental breakdown begins.

I just squirm, and blush, and listen to him saying how tight I looked, spread around that plastic cock, and how hard it had made him, to see me so lusty, and abandoned.

He must be having a great time of it now, because I’ve never felt so lusty and abandoned in all my life. I think I scream when he touches the outer lips of my sex with just the tip of his finger, and I definitely babble something, once he’s made one long, slow circle around that soft mound.

“Please, I need it,” I say. “I need it.”

And then when he refuses to give it to me, I force myself to go ruder.

“Rub my clit, rub it, oh God, yeah—pinch my nipples.”

That last one’s for Kitty. Her fingertips feel all wet, and she’s somehow caught my stiff buds between thumb and forefinger, and every time I push into her touch she twists them, she plucks at them, she makes me groan.

I think I may well come just from the feel of a fucking
woman
touching my breasts.

“See how excited she’s getting?” Wade says, and this time Cameron replies.

Though he does more than that. He echoes Corin almost exactly, in a voice that has a core of steel. Even if it’s kind of wavering, at the same time.

“Give it to her,” he says. “Give her what she wants, for God’s sake.”

As though I need someone to have pity on me—which I suppose I do, in a way. I feel almost lost in this, so turned on I can’t move or speak or do anything without feeling a great swell of intense sensation go through me.

And though I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, Cameron’s words only make things worse. He sounds so hoarse and desperate himself, and I can see how thick his cock looks, how swollen—but he’s busy thinking of
me
. Oh, he always thinks of me. He always has.

Unlike Wade, who just circles and circles with the tip of his finger, now on the inner lips of my sex but still nowhere near all the places I need him to be. And he’s laughing too, as he does it, because I’m so wet that the sounds his slight touch produce are obscene. The room fills up with all of this slick, wet clicking, until my cheeks are aflame and my body is shaking and another noise drowns it out.

The harsh grate of my breathing, followed by a whole host of guttural moans.

“I think she’s going to come,” Kitty says, so full of teasing glee that it’s unbearable—but I can’t say she’s wrong. I can feel it winding up inside me, even without a finger on my clit or in my cunt, and I go with it.

I let it wash over me in tight waves, one after the other until I’m sure I’m going mad and all I can say is “Oh God, yeah, make me come, make me come, rub me there, yes.”

But it’s good, because it persuades Wade into that final soft touch—the one that pushes me over the edge and tears an orgasm from me. All he has to do is slide the tip of his finger over my bulging clit and I go rigid all over, twisting beneath the restraining hands Kitty has on me while all the sounds in the world try to pour out of my mouth.

With little success. I think I manage a long, drawn out
Fuuuuccckk
, and that’s about the most of it.

And then I just lie there, spent, every muscle in my body twitching and every little bit of sense I have telling me to open my eyes. To pay attention to the things going on around me. I mean, it’s not as though I’m in the middle of a pleasant garden party, during which I can sporadically doze or maybe just drift on a haze of warm happiness.

I’ve got a shark on one side of me and a tease on the other, and any second Cameron’s just going to burst out of his bonds like the Incredible Hulk, and then where will we be? In fraught foursome land, that’s where. There’s just no time for bathing in the afterglow.

Especially when I can already feel Wade trying to turn me over. Not even trying, really. He gets two big hands on my hips—oh God, the way he did to Cameron, the way he did to Cameron!—and wrenches me around, so I barely have time to catch my breath or make sense of anything before I find myself face down on the bed.

I don’t even get a lot of time to acclimatize to this position. He yanks and then I’m up on all fours, ass in the air and everything spread open for his viewing pleasure—a fact that does not escape Kitty.

“Tell everyone how she looks,” she says, and Wade obliges. Of course he does. He’s the new, generous Wade, who’s only too happy to share the sight of my clenching cunt and my come-slicked asshole with the rest of the room.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so mortified or so turned on in my entire life. He uses the word
rosebud
, for God’s sake. Kitty claps her hands!

I’m dying, I’m dying.

And then Wade says: “What do you think, man? You think I should fuck her there, the way I fucked you?”

And I do more than die. I die and then decompose and turn to dust, every little particle of me blowing away on the slightest breeze. In truth, I think Cameron
breathes
and I blow away.

Mainly because I don’t know what’s worse—that Wade said something like that to torment us both, or that it doesn’t seem the slightest bit cruel. His tone isn’t even smug, the way it was for the reveal about me and the sex toy. It’s just kind of matter-of-fact and a touch teasing, like an old friend punching another friend on the arm.

And when I look at Cameron, he seems… not relaxed, exactly. But certainly untroubled. Wade isn’t trying to be an ass about anything. He’s trying to reach out and shake Cameron’s hand, in the middle of a foursome.

Which is absurd enough on its own—or at least it would be, if Cameron didn’t shake his hand back.

“Go on,” he says, voice grating. Body almost trembling, all over. “Fuck her ass. Take it. Make her scream your name.”

It’s like some kind of fucking gentlemen’s agreement, about asses. I don’t even know what to make of it, or understand how I feel about it, and this continues until Wade quite suddenly slides something between the cheeks of my bottom, and every nerve in my body wakes up and goes nuts.

“Oooh, you like that, huh?” Kitty asks, and when she does I make the mistake of looking up. Though really, I suppose it’s not exactly a mistake. Seeing someone spread out on a bed in front of you, legs open and a hand working busily over a very wet, very bare pussy…it’s not exactly something you never expect to see in the middle of a foursome.

It’s just that it’s really in my face, and really jarring, and yes, I’ll admit it—really arousing. It trumps the glimpse I got of her pussy to the power of eight million, and I can’t help marveling over how it looks, so close up.

I’ve never even seen my own that close up. And she’s circling her clit in slow, easy circles too, so it’s not as though I can just pretend we’re in the locker room together, soaping ourselves down.

I have to face this, in the same way I have to face Wade doing another thing I’ve never actually experienced before.

Something very slick runs between the cheeks of my ass and I balk. Partly because of the sensation—so tingly and liquid and rude—and partly because I know what it is, and what it means. He’s lubing me up before he puts a finger or a cock in my ass, and I don’t think I can take it.

It’s just too sensitive. I can feel every groove and fold, distinctly, and even more so when he runs a finger down over my clenching hole, again. Or at least, I
think
it’s a finger. For all I know it could be the vibrator, his cock, the handle of a hairbrush, and oh Lord I really can’t take that.

I lurch forward, unsteadily, and suddenly I realize why Cameron was bruised the next day. I understand, because Wade immediately puts one hand on my hip and drags me back, so hard I just have to gasp aloud.

“Keep still,” he orders me, and I shudder to hear him.
Kitty
shudders to hear him. Hell—I’m pretty sure Cameron shudders to hear him, though I only get vocal confirmation of this when Wade finally, finally presses the thick head of his cock to that tiny, tiny place.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ,” Cameron says, even though it’s Wade who’s getting the sensation of this. Wade who’s working and pushing and jerking his cock into my tight hole, until my whole body feels like one big burn and I’m so shaken, so disturbed by the feel of it that I need to tell him to stop.

“Don’t,” I think I say, and he actually obeys me. He eases up, that red hot pressure leaving me for just a second.

Only then…only then…

“Make her take it.”

I think I go rigid. Wade
definitely
goes rigid. And I understand why, completely—because it isn’t either him or Kitty who gives that one cruel order. It’s Cameron—seething, shaking Cameron, my lovely guy who couldn’t so much as ask for a blowjob, a few weeks ago.