The words hang between us, weighted with meaning beyond the bedroom, beyond this moment. Part of me recognizes the danger in them, the same part that’s been screaming caution since the day we met.
But with the plug inside me, his hands on my skin, and the safety of his penthouse surrounding us, that voice is easy to ignore. “I understand,” I whisper, and something shifts in his expression—satisfaction, relief, triumph.
He kisses me then, deep and consuming, backing me against the cold glass of the window. The contrast of temperatures—his hot body pressed against my front, the cool glass against my back—sends shivers racing across my skin.
“Now,” he says, “let’s see how many times I can make you come before I replace that plug with something much more substantial.”
The glint in his eyes tells me exactly what he means, and my body responds with a clench around the plug that makes me gasp. My imagination runs wild with the thought of him replacing it, of feeling him there instead.
“You’re thinking about it,” he says, not a question but a statement of fact. His fingers trace the curve of my jaw. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“Please,” I breathe.
“Not yet.” He leads me away from the window, back toward the bed. “On your knees.”
I comply, sinking down onto the plush carpet at the end of the bed. The position changes the angle of the plug again, and I bite my lip to stifle another moan.
Soren stands before me, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness. “I want your mouth first.”
My hands tremble as I reach for his belt, unfastening it with an eagerness that should embarrass me. When I free him from his pants, he’s already hard, the metal barbells glinting in the low light.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I raise my eyes to his as I take him in my mouth, watching his expression shift from control to pleasure. His fingers thread through my hair, not forcing, just guiding.
“That’s it,” he says, voice rough. “Show me how much you want it.”
I hollow my cheeks, taking him deeper, driven by the dark approval in his eyes. Each time I move, the plug shifts inside me, creating a rhythm of pleasure that builds with every bob of my head.
“So good for me,” he groans. “My perfect little poison.”
The pet name sends a shiver down my spine. There’s something about the way he says it—like I’m dangerous but cherished, like my toxicity is exactly what he craves.
When he pulls away, I feel empty, despite the plug still filling me. He helps me to my feet, guiding me to the bed.
“On your back,” he instructs. “Legs spread.”
I lie back, exposing myself to his gaze. His eyes travel over me, lingering on the jewel nestled between my thighs.
“Beautiful,” he crawls onto the bed between my legs. “Now, let’s see how sensitive you really are.”
His mouth descends on me without warning, tongue circling my clit with precision. The dual sensation—his hot mouth on my cunt, the plug pressing inside—is overwhelming. I arch off the bed, a cry tearing from my throat.
“That’s it,” he encourages between licks. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you.”
His fingers join his mouth, sliding inside me, curling to find that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. The pressure from both sides—his fingers inside my pussy, the plug in my ass—creates a fullness I’ve never experienced.
“Soren,” I gasp, my hands fisting in the sheets. “I can’t—it’s too much?—“
“You can,” he insists, increasing the pressure. “Give it to me, Ivy. Let go.”
The orgasm crashes over me, intense enough that tears spring to my eyes. My body clenches rhythmically around both intrusions, pleasure shooting outward until I’m trembling, incoherent.
He doesn’t stop, drawing out my climax until I’m whimpering, oversensitive and boneless.
“One,” he says with satisfaction, crawling up my body to kiss me. I taste myself on his lips. “That’s one.”
And I remember his promise—to see how many times he can make me come before he takes me completely.