His Valentine Treat Page 4

  “Don’t stop working on your nipples. Now tell me what you want me to do to you,” he says.

  I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I know exactly what I want him to do to me, and that’s not the problem. I have no issues telling him what I want. The problem is I am so desperate for release that I can barely speak.

  “Now, Robin,” Denton says.

  He’s getting impatient, annoyed that I didn’t obey him. My clit pulses in response to his tone and I make a low moan.

  “I … I want you to fill my pussy. I want you to make me yours,” I say in ragged half sentences around my gasping.

  “You are mine, Robin. Your pussy is mine.”

  Another rush of wetness comes. I can hear the lust in Denton’s voice. He sounds almost slurred as he speaks again.

  “Move your hand lower. Run your nails over your stomach and cup your pussy. Don’t touch your clit until I tell you that you can.”

  I run my fingers down my body, arching my back slightly as the tickling sensation sends more shivers running through me. My hand reaches my pussy and I cup it. It drives me wild. I need to touch myself, but he said I can’t. I have to obey him, but I have to get some relief from this maddening, delicious feeling.

  “Where are your hands?”

  “One is on the bed and the other one is cupping my pussy.”

  “I think you’ll find that’s my pussy. And why is your other hand on the bed? I don’t remember telling you to stop working your nipple.”

  My hand goes back to my nipple and begins working on it again. It’s still hard and sensitive from the last round of torturous pleasure, and I grit my teeth as a new wave of stinging electricity passes through me.

  “Keep your hand flat and move your hips. Fuck your hand,” Denton says.

  My hips begin to move, slowly at first and then faster, harder. The movement and my cupped hand do nothing to release me. It just makes me more frustrated. The movement stimulates my clit enough to make me want more, but not enough to push me over the edge. I keep moving, pressing my pussy onto my hand as hard as I can.

  “What do you want, Robin?” Denton asks.

  “I want to come,” I whimper. “I need to come.”

  “Stop touching yourself,” he says.

  It takes every bit of willpower I have to pull my hands away. I lie on my back, my arms at my sides, breathing in long ragged gasps. My heart is racing and my whole body feels as though it’s on fire.

  “Roll over and lie on your front.”

  I do. I fold my arms in front of me and rest my chin on them. It’s the only way I can be sure I won’t slip up and let them touch me.

  “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

  “I want to lick you all over,” I reply. “I want to tease every inch of you. I’ll run my tongue across your thighs, over your stomach. I’ll suck on your sack, making you writhe in pleasure. I’ll run my nails over your body, bringing your nerve endings to life. And when you think you can’t take any more, I’ll finally suck your cock. I’ll take it all in, sucking on it like my life depends on it. And when you’re ready to come, I’ll release you and have you come over me.”

  My voice is husky as I tell him what I want to do to him. I can hear his breathing quickening as I talk, and he moans, spurring me on.

  “And then I’ll lay you on your back and straddle you, rubbing my pussy up and down your cock until it’s hard again.”

  His breath catches and he moans my name. His desire makes me crazy for him. As I talk, I buck my hips, grinding myself hard into the mattress.

  “Then I’ll roll over and pull you on top of me. And you’ll fuck me until you can’t take any more.”

  “Get up onto your knees,” Denton says.

  He is still breathing hard. Hearing it turns me on even more, and I can almost feel his breath against my neck. I can almost feel him kissing my neck, my collarbone. As I push myself onto my knees, I can almost feel his body behind mine, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me back onto his cock. I swallow hard as I kneel on the bed, facing the headboard and the wall behind it.

  “Lift yourself up so your ass isn’t touching your feet and spread your knees.”

  I do. It makes me feel kind of vulnerable. I am alone, naked, and in a rather compromising position. The notion sends another wave through me and I feel myself getting wetter. I moan.

  “You haven’t even touched yourself and already you’re dripping wet. Do you want to touch your clit?”

  “Yes,” I shout.

  “Rub it with two fingers. Press on it, hard enough to make you cry out. Massage it, get it primed and ready. And when you’re about to come, stop.”

  I push my first two fingers into my lips. Electricity seizes my senses as they brush across my slippery clit. I suck in a breath. I remember what Denton told me to do and I press my fingers hard onto my clit. It’s already swelled, ready, and the hard press sends a throb of stinging pain all through my pussy and up into my stomach. I hear myself gasp. I rub my fingers back and forth over it, gentler this time. I apply enough pressure to make it tingle without hurting. I take it between the two fingers and squeeze it gently.

  My breath is a string of uneven gasps. I can feel the sweat standing out on my skin and the blood pumping through me, making me red and flushed. I can feel the pulsing through my pussy. I’m on the edge. I keep working myself, pushing myself closer and closer.

  “Stop,” Denton says.

  “I can’t,” I say honestly, still moving my fingers.

  I am so close now. To stop would be the ultimate torture. I can’t stop now. I can’t. He’s pushed me too far.

  “I said stop,” Denton says.

  His tone leaves no room for misinterpretation. No room for argument. I force myself to stop moving my hand. I reach down with my other hand and grab my wrist and pull it away. As my fingers leave my clit, I let out a frustrated cry. My clit is throbbing, sending waves of need through me. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I can do is feel. And I feel like I’m about to explode. I need to explode to feel like me again.

  “How do you feel, Robin?” Denton asks.

  “Like I need to come more than I’ve ever needed to do anything,” I reply instantly.

  “Maybe I should tell you to keep your hands off yourself and we should continue this tomorrow night,” he says.

  I can hear the smile in his voice now as he teases me.

  “No. Please,” I beg.

  “Take those two fingers and put them in your mouth. Taste yourself. Imagine you’re sucking my cock. Make it nice and wet and loud. I want to hear you.”

  I push my fingers into my mouth. It feels strange at first, but I soon get into it. I suck on them, hard. I lick them over, making sure to make plenty of moans and sucking sounds. I can hear Denton’s breathing change. He moans a low moan that tells me he’s close.

  “I’m jerking off, Robin. I’m rubbing my cock and thinking of you,” he says in a husky voice.

  I feel a wave of heat and wetness flood my pussy knowing that my sounds are turning Denton on so much. I suck on my fingers harder. My clit pulses again, reminding me of my own need, and I bite down on my fingers hard enough to hurt. I gasp but I don’t stop sucking.

  I can hear Denton’s breathing getting faster, the breaths catching in his throat.

  “Push your fingers into your tight little pussy, Robin,” he pants.

  I push my fingers inside of me and begin moving them in and out.

  “Now use your thumb on your clit,” he says.

  I push my fingers in deeper, massaging my clit at the same time. I feel the swirling pleasure inside of me center itself, grabbing onto my lower stomach and fanning out through my whole body, making my skin tingle and my blood pump faster. I reach out with my other hand and support myself on the wall.

  I throw my head back and gasp as the sensation intensifies.

  “Don’t let yourself come, Robin,” Denton warns me in a low voice. “Not yet.”

  I don�
��t know that I’ll be able to stop myself. I am racing toward climax. My pussy is tightening up around my fingers. I slow my rhythm. It keeps me poised on the edge but I don’t quite go over. I can hear Denton’s gasping now as he works on himself too. His breath catches in his throat and he releases it in a low growl that sends another shiver through me.

  “I can’t hold back any longer,” I shout as I feel myself teetering right on the edge.

  My hand is moving furiously and my hips are thrusting onto my fingers. I am gasping, barely able to suck in any air. My hair hangs in strands over my face, but I barely notice it.

  “Now,” Denton says.

  I let go and my orgasm pulls me in. My pussy clenches around my fingers, and I stop moving them. I hold my thumb tightly on my clit, drawing my orgasm out, making it last. I scream Denton’s name as I hit the peak. I hear him come. He moans my name as he is swept away.

  My orgasm begins to fade, and I come back down to earth on a bed of soft warmth. I pull my fingers out of myself and collapse on the bed, curled up around the cell phone. I smile to myself as I float. I listen to Denton fight to get his breath back.

  “How was that for you?” he asks when he’s mostly back under control.

  I think of the sticky liquid that coats my inner thighs, the heights I soared to.

  “Fucking amazing,” I reply.

  He laughs softly.

  “Yeah,” he says.

  We spend the next few hours chatting. I tell him about the conference. He laughs out loud at me working blue elephant into a sentence. I can feel myself starting to drift toward sleep, and I try to stifle a yawn but he hears it.

  He laughs. “I guess I wore you out.”

  “You sure did,” I agree.

  “I’ll let you get some sleep,” he says. “First thing tomorrow, go down to reception. There’ll be a package waiting for you.”

  “You sent me something?” I say.

  “Of course. Send me a photo when you get it. Good night, Robin. I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I say.

  We end the call, and I shuffle to one side and lift the duvet up. I roll into the clear spot and pull it over me. I snuggle in and drift into a contented sleep thinking about what my gift will be. This conference isn’t turning out to be so bad after all.

  I wake up early on Valentine’s Day. My cock is already standing to attention and the first thing I think about is my call with Robin last night. It was so fucking sexy hearing her touching herself, hearing the way she reacted to her own touch, directed by me. And when she described what she wanted to do to me, I thought I would explode.

  I know my cock won’t be going down without me jerking off, and I kept my promise to Robin. We didn’t say I couldn’t jerk off this morning. I wrap my hand around my cock and begin to pound it out. I see Robin in my mind.

  First, she’s kneeling before me. She bites her lip and looks up at me, the hint of a smile on her lips. She moves her head forward and she’s sucking my cock. Next, she’s straddling me, riding my cock, her breasts jiggling in time with her thrusts. Now I’m on top of her, fucking her. She’s saying my name over and over again, whispering it into my ear like it’s a secret we share. I pull my head back and look at her face, twisted in ecstasy. That does it. I come hard, her face lingering in my mind even as my climax sends every other thought tumbling out of my brain.

  When I get my breath back, I stretch and check the time. It’s still early, and I figure I’ll have time to jump in the shower and get ready before Robin texts me to say she received my gift. My cock twitches as I think of the gift I’ve sent her, and my eyes go to a small black box that sits on my bedside cabinet. I smile to myself and push back the duvet before I find myself jerking off again.

  I shower and dress and go through to the lounge with my cell phone. I make myself a coffee and take it out onto the veranda. It’s nippy and after a few sips, I go back inside. I pace around, waiting anxiously for a text from Robin. It’s almost nine, and I thought she would have been up early and ready for the conference by now. Which would mean she received my gift. I hope she doesn’t hate it. Oh shit, I really hope she hasn’t collected it and taken it with her to open at breakfast if she’s running late.

  Finally, at just after nine thirty, I get a text from her. It’s just one word.

  “Wow.”

  I grin to myself and send her a winky face. I wait for my photo. I don’t have to wait long. Robin sends me a photo of herself, a selfie taken in the mirror. Her hair is loose, hanging around her face in soft curls, and she’s made up, ready for the day. Her smoky eyes make my heart skip a beat. She’s wearing the gift I sent her: vibrating black panties and a black bra. My cock instantly goes hard as I look at her.

  Another text message pings in.

  “I love the gift, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to use it today. The controller is missing.”

  I laugh to myself and go back through to the bedroom. I sit on the bed and pick up the black box from the bedside cabinet: the controller for the panties. I open my camera app and turn on the front-facing camera. I grin and hold up the box.

  I send her the photo and follow it up with another text message.

  “Is it?”

  I grin to myself as I picture her reading the text, her eyes widening as realizes what she’s getting herself into. I get up off the bed and begin to pack an overnight bag. I want to get to the hotel quickly so I can start to tease her.

  I put on my simple but elegant black shift dress for the conference today. I want to look cool and professional for my lunch with Charles, although I’m not so sure that’s possible now that I know Denton can zap me with delicious vibrations anytime he feels like it. I am already wet just thinking about how he can control my pleasure levels without even being in the room with me. Tingles flood through my body and butterflies swim in my stomach as the anticipation of the first blast floods through me. I wonder what it will feel like, whether it will be intense enough to make me come, or whether it’ll be more of a teaser. Will I want to go to the bathroom and finish myself off? Will Denton allow me to?

  So many questions, and no answers. But I’ll get my answers soon enough, and I know Denton. They’ll be well worth waiting for. A delicious shiver runs through me as I imagine him sitting on our bed, his cock in his hand, pressing that button and pressing my buttons in time to his own building pleasure.

  I shake my head and force myself to get moving. It’s already almost eleven. I decided to skip breakfast and the first couple of hours of the conference. I have the meeting with Charles lined up, and a potential one with Dave. I’m good. Now though, things will really get going as more potential clients arrive, and it’s the sort of place an ad executive who wants to be known as successful needs to be seen.

  I grab my cell phone, stick it in my purse, and sling my purse over my shoulder. I pick up my key card and drop it in the zipped compartment on the front of my bag, and then I head down to the conference room.

  The room is already pretty full when I step in. The hubbub of polite chatter fills the air, occasionally punctuated by a loud, and more likely than not, fake laugh. I take a deep breath, put my game face on, and step into the crowd.

  I’m soon approached by a woman who introduces herself as Margo Gough. Margo tells me she’s a fashion designer and she’s looking to work with an ad company for her wedding dress brand. I struggle to place her name, and deep down, I don’t think an unheard of start-up will have the sort of budget to pull off what she’s talking about. I don’t say it, but she must see it written all over my face. I have got to get my mind off Denton and these damned panties and concentrate on what’s going on in the moment.

  “I know what you’re thinking. Who the hell is Margo Gough, right?”

  She goes on without causing me the embarrassment of trying to lie my way out of it or admit that’s exactly what I’m thinking.

  “That’s my own name. I design alongside someone you might have heard of under her bra
nd name. A certain Ms. Wang?”

  My jaw drops before I can stop it. Margo has approached me to work with the one and only Vera Wang? Holy fucking shit. Cartier doesn’t seem quite such a lone whale anymore.

  “I take it by that expression you know who I am now.” Margo laughs.

  I nod, still stunned into silence.

  “I like you, Robin. I like how you’re not fake like the others. You don’t pretend you know who I am while frantically Googling me. Here’s my card. Why don’t you call me next week and we’ll get the ball rolling on this?”

  “I’ll call you first thing Monday,” I promise.

  This is actually working. Being so distracted, my game face is just a distant memory and I’m finding that actually being myself is getting people interested in me. The clients are sick of the ass-kissing and the sweetie darlings. They want something real. Someone authentic. I can do that. Colin won’t believe I’ve landed Vera Wang by not pretending I knew who one of the designers was.

  I shake hands with Margo and make my way to the refreshments table. I debate a glass of champagne but I decide against it. Denton hasn’t used the panties yet; he’s waiting until later on when he thinks they’ll have slipped my mind and he can catch me by surprise. As if I could forget about them. I don’t think being a little tipsy and being sexually stimulated in public is a good combination. I grab a cranberry juice instead. I sip it slowly and check the time. Charles wanted us to meet at one, and it’s ten to one now. I finish my drink and head for the dining room.

  The host gives me a polished smile as I approach.

  “Hi. I’m meeting Charles Milton for lunch. Out on the patio,” I say.

  He glances down at a register before him.

  “Name please, ma’am?”

  “Robin Blake.”

  “Right this way,” he says with another frosty smile.

  I follow him through the elegant dining room. Couples and a few groups are already sitting eating at some of the tables, but it’s far from busy. The host leads me onto the patio. I expect it to be cold, but the heaters are doing a great job and it’s pleasantly cool instead. The patio is a little busier than the inside of the restaurant, and I can see why. The urban garden is a delightful array of ferns and greenery, and a small waterfall trickles delicately down a rocky façade into a koi pond at one end. The main attraction though, at least for me, is the view of Rodeo Drive and the hundreds of shoppers who come and go in the designer boutiques that line the street.