by Ylana MIlls
When Eliza joined him in the kitchen, she found him shaking his head, with both of his hands sprawled over the counter as the muscles in his shoulders tensed.
"I can't believe it…" he muttered. "I swear… I planned this night in my head over and over again…"
She chuckled, moving over to hug him from behind.
"It's gonna be fine, Devon," she said, kissing his shoulder with a smile. He looked so frustrated with how things were going… and she found it truly endearing. It only showed how much thought he had put into the whole thing, and she was grateful for that.
Still, even if everything went wrong… That was already the best night of her life.
"Why don't you grab the bottle of champagne that is chilling in the fridge…" she whispered, running her hands down his chest until she reached his deflating cock, and gave it a couple of strokes. "A bucket of ice… Then meet me in the bedroom… so that we can pick up from where we stopped?"
He broke into a fit of laughter at her words.
"Oh, Eliza…" he said at last, finally turning around to look at her.
"Think about it," she replied, as her hands rested on his chest. "At least we'll have the best stories to remember when we grow old."
He closed his eyes, still shaking his head as she kissed his forehead and walked away.
Bless that woman for her sense of humor.
He was honestly beginning to doubt he would be able to deliver all the carnal delight he had envisioned for that night. First, it had been Viktor showing up. Then, Eliza's minor injury after his belt performance. Now, the breadstick incident. No wonder his Penetrating Warrior looked so… defeated. 'What's next?' he would probably be wondering, if he had been given the ability to think. 'Dipping me in the ice bucket?'
Devon shivered at the thought. Lucky as he was…
'Improvise, my friend. Improvise,' his mind whispered, trying to cheer him up. So what if his plans for the night were slowly going down the drain? Eliza Clark was still waiting for him in her bedroom, and he was sure there was still plenty to be done… All he had to do was get his act together.
He grabbed the bottle of champagne from the fridge after zipping up his pants, and not without a certain amount of fear, filled a stainless steel bucket with ice and headed to the bedroom.
"Eliza?" he muttered, looking around the dimly-lit room. He placed the bucket and the bottle on one of the bedside tables, and took off his shoes and socks before heading back to the door to turn on the lights.
Just then, Eliza caught up with him, after coming out from behind the door, and blindfolded him.
"What th-"
"Have I ever told you how much I love your scarves?" she asked, holding his hands and leading him to a chair near the bed.
"Scarf," he corrected. "Singular. I only have one."
He heard her giggle, and an instant later the back of his knees connected with the chair.
"Well then… you look good with a scarf," she whispered.
"Wrapped around my head?" he asked, still finding her method very amusing. "I'm sure I do."
"Sit down."
Now that was an unexpected turn of events.
"I thought I would be the one calling the shots tonight," he whispered, after taking a seat.
"Oh, you are the one calling the shots tonight," she replied, and Devon could almost see the smile on her face through her tone of voice. "Just tell me to stop what I'm doing and I will."
He swallowed when he felt her legs rest over his on the chair. 'You are the one calling the shots', she said.
'Calling the shots my ass…' his mind pointed out. 'But please, don't stop…'
"Eliza…"
"Hmmm?"
"Are you really giving me a lap dance?" he asked, his hands going up and down her waist as she moved her hips to the very low sound of music playing somewhere behind them.
"Yes, I am."
"And I won't be able to see it?"
"Stop whining."
He chuckled, and bit his lip. Now that kind of thing only happened to him. He understood that she was trying to get him to use his other senses, but he truly wondered how much of her dance he would be able to enjoy with his mouth, ears or… nose.
She did smell good, for one thing… and at least he could still use his hands.
"What are you wearing?" he asked, his fingertips trying to define what her garment consisted of.
And then, without a word, she stepped away from him. Had he broken some kind of spoken rule? Maybe he was not supposed to touch her, after all.
"Eliza?"
When she straddled him again, he kept his hands on the chair, and by now he could feel her hair falling over his shoulder as she leaned towards him. When her nipples brushed against his bare chest, his mouth went dry. There was the answer to his question. What was she wearing? Now, apparently nothing.
He wished he was wearing nothing as well. At least he would be able to tell if she still had her panties on. But the fact she was grinding her hips against his jeans didn't exactly allow him to tell much, and he felt the urge to touch her legs, her hips, her sex… if only to find out if she was wearing anything at all. His cock couldn't agree more: they had to know, if only to produce the adequate mental image they needed to keep that party rolling.
"C-Can I touch you?" he stuttered.
So much for the 'calling all the shots' part of their deal. He was the one blindfolded and writhing on a chair. Obviously he was not in charge of anything.
"Can you wait?" she purred back, and he couldn't help but groan.
His misery seemed to draw some compassion from her, and she finally lowered her mouth to his, teasing him with her tongue, which slid in and out of his mouth a couple of times until they finally engaged in a hot, wet kiss.
"Holy shit…" he whispered, feeling her mouth moving down his neck, her tongue leaving a wet trail across his chest until her lips were wrapped around his nipple, her mouth sucking it lightly. Her hands were on his crotch… moving up and down, feeling his length through his jeans. By the time she finally unzipped him and once again fished his erection from inside his boxers, he was already breaking into a sweat.
Again, he wished he could see the look on her face as she stroked his cock and kissed his stomach, her moist lips making his skin tingle. And then, as if he had not been tortured enough yet, he felt her lips brush against his glans, and then the tip of her tongue, and then nothing but her warm breath as her nails grazed his waist.
"Eliza… please..."
She was probably laughing at his piteous whimper, and he couldn't possibly care less, as long as it resulted in her taking him in her mouth. When it finally did, his nails dug into the chair so hard he was almost sure he would be able to etch his initials on it if she kept going for much longer.
He rocked his hips to match her motions, feeling his cock slide in and out of her mouth, her tongue lashing it as she sucked, pulling him even deeper, closer to her throat. Her hands caressed his sides, and since he could not rely on his sight, his ears seemed to make up for it by amplifying every moan that left her throat and his, his heavy breathing, the slurping sounds she made as she sucked him.
It was time to put his self-control to the test. He drew in a long, deep breath, concentrating on what his body was doing, and soon enough realized he wouldn't last much longer if she kept that pace.
"Eliza… wait…"
"Why?"
"I don't… I don't wanna come yet."
He heard her chuckle, and then felt her lips press against his.
"I can wait twenty minutes," she whispered, and he had to smile. He had called it, the day they played that game. He knew she wanted to see him come more than once.
So did he. Just, not yet.
"Good to know," he whispered back, as she finally grabbed his hands and placed them over her breasts.
"Tell me something…" she said, closing her eyes as his fingers danced around her nipples. "Why are you so quiet?"
If there was
one thing Eliza Clark had grown used to, it was to hearing Devon talk. And tease. And then talk more. Including during sex.
"Is that a problem?" he asked.
"Not a problem…" she replied, as his lips replaced one of his hands and he gently sucked at her nipple, sending a wave of pleasure across her body. "Only… unusual."
"You saying I talk too much?"
"Maybe… But I like it when you talk."
"About what?" he asked, as his mouth moved to her other nipple, and he flicked his tongue against it, again making her eyes roll back in her head.
"About… everything," she hissed, her hands grabbing his head and pulling him closer to her chest.
"Oh, really?"
"Uh-hum."
"Good…"
And then, he was silent again, but she wouldn't give up.
"So?" she asked.
"Say it."
Maybe it was time for him to take some control of the situation. He was still blindfolded and she was still the one dealing the cards, but at least he could tease her as well.
"What?"
"That I turn you on," he whispered.
He felt her lift her body from his for a moment, only to grab his hand and place it between her legs.
A moan left his throat when his fingers made contact with her slippery folds.
"Yeah…" she purred, rocking her hips against his hand and causing one of his fingers to slip into her hole. "You turn me on."
His voice had disappeared somewhere between his throat and his mouth as he fingered her, his cock twitching against his belly as he felt her sex quiver under his touch.
"I touch myself… thinking of you…" she whispered, breathing heavily after each word.
"Doing what?" he managed to ask, after he found his voice again.
She got closer to his ear, and bit his earlobe before replying.
"Going down on me."
"Eliza…"
"Until I come in your mouth."
A drop of sweat ran down his temple, and he could feel she was way too aroused for her own sake to keep that little game going.
"Let me look at you."
And this time, he was not asking.
She removed the scarf from around his head, and only now did he realize how much that thing had made him sweat.
"Next time, can I ask you not to use wool in your ministrations?" he whispered, seeing her smile as she wiped the sweat from his forehead and played with his damp hair. "It felt like my head was stuck in an oven."
Then, it was his turn to chuckle as well, eyeing her face as she flung her arms around his neck.
"My God…" he muttered, as his eyes darted from her hair to her eyes, and then to her lips. It was the first time he was seeing her without her glasses and with her hair down. "You're gorgeous, you know that?"
And then, they kissed again, and he took that moment to wrap her legs around his waist and rise from the chair, carrying her to the bed and laying her down near its edge.
He spent very a very long minute letting his eyes take her figure in as she lay on the bed, her body completely exposed to him. Then, he slowly placed his body over hers, still wearing pants although his cock had already been released from their constraints. As it glided along her stomach, it left a trail of precum on her skin while he moved upwards to touch her face, pressing very light kisses along her jawline, and then on her collarbone. He then shifted his body so that he was lying by her side, and his fingertips massaged her scalp, while his other hand smeared his precum on her abs. His mouth was a mere inch from hers as he breathed softly over her lips, watching his hand travel south, stopping shortly before it reached her mons.
"The scalp… the abs… the mons…" he whispered, with a smile on his face. "What was the other one, again?"
She opened her eyes for a moment, her skin covered in goosebumps as his fingers danced across her body.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
And it was the truth. Her mind had momentarily lost all ability to think straight, and all she wanted was Devon to address the pressing matter between her legs. She felt she was on fire, and that he was deliberately avoiding touching her down there. So, that was what he had felt like moments ago. Very educational. She would bear that in mind next time they played, and maybe she wouldn't be that cruel.
She had opened her eyes to watch his slow descent towards her sex… but again, he had taken a detour, his lips going from her mons to the inside of her thighs, his cheek brushing slightly against her folds and making quiver in anticipation.
"Devon… please…"
He raised his eyes to hers, and she saw a smile curling his lips. What a vengeful man! She had learnt her lesson. She now knew what it was like to be teased relentlessly… He could move on to the next stage.
And he did.
When the tip of his tongue touched her labia, she gasped, and her whole body went stiff.
It was really happening.
"Eliza?" he whispered. "You okay?"
"Y-Yeah," she replied, her heartbeat racing. "Sorry."
He smiled again, and with his eyes still glued to hers, he once again covered her sex with his mouth, breathing onto it before licking its outer folds with one long, wet stroke.
Again, she couldn't help but clench her legs, gritting her teeth as her mind decided to go back to work, filling her head with the most stupid concerns. As she stared at the ceiling, she realized that giving head was one thing. She was the one in control. But that… that was exposing herself in a whole new level. It meant letting go… and letting herself be completely at his mercy.
And she had no idea how to do that.
When she shifted her glance to him, she saw he was resting his chin over her belly, slowly caressing her thighs as he looked at her face.
"I'm… I'm sorry," she said, feeling she had blushed at the imminent fiasco as the recipient of his oral ministrations. "I… I've never done this before."
Devon raised his eyebrows at her words, unable to hide his surprise.
"You serious?"
"Yup."
He thought of a million jokes he could make about all the other men she had gone to bed with, but after seeing the embarrassment on her face, his heart skipped a beat.
She looked scared.
"We don't have to do this if you don't want to, Eliza."
"But I…" she said, blushing even more as she spoke. "I want to. I just… I…"
He lifted his body and leaned over her, his hand touching her face as his mouth covered hers in a warm, loving kiss. His tongue had slid past her lips, slowly exploring her mouth, trying to calm her nerves. In a way, it was funny that she was so worried about the whole thing. He wondered what was going on in her mind, what kinds of concerns she actually had.
Right now, all he could do was try to kiss them away.
When he broke the kiss and opened his eyes to look at her again, she seemed a little more relaxed. He smiled, and then proceeded to kiss her breasts and stomach, until he was again lodged between her legs.
"May I go on now, mademoiselle?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he pretended to be twirling an imaginary mustache, with a smug look on his face.
The idiot. She burst into laughter as he placed her thighs over his shoulders, pulling her body towards the edge of the bed as he kneeled on the floor. She propped herself on her elbows, and as it was, she could see everything he was doing with even more clarity.
"Oui, Monsieur," she replied, biting her lip as she watched his fingers gently touch her folds.
"Merci," he whispered, before his lips were once again doing their job.
She closed her eyes, and shut her mind to everything else but the warmth of his breath invading her intimacy, his tongue gently flicking around her inner lips after his fingers had pulled them apart. And then, her muscles clenched when he finally drew his attention to her clit, licking it slowly at first, then applying more pressure as he started sucking on it.
Her whole body seemed to irradia
te electricity as waves of pleasure hit her, and she didn't even bother to stifle the moans leaving her throat. She felt she was sweating, and shaking, and every time he changed his pace from slow to fast, and then from intense sucking to soft nibbling, her hips would involuntarily buck forward, trying to increase contact with his face.
"Yeah, baby…" he moaned, slipping a finger inside her before licking her clit again. "Open up to me…"
He knew she was getting close. As his tongue danced around her folds, he could sense her muscles clench more insistently, and that her breathing was growing erratic.
"Oh fuck, Devon… Oh God…"
He flicked his tongue one last time across her slit, and she pulled her body forward, grabbing his head with her both hands as she cried her release. He kept his mouth in place, lapping her juices, feeling her sex undulate as orgasm ripped through her body.
She felt her heart was about to burst from her chest, her legs shaking uncontrollably as she struggled not to fall from the bed. When her body finally seemed to stop twitching, Devon let her legs down, and rose to his feet to finally get rid of his jeans and boxers. As his hand slid up and down his cock, he was relieved to realize he had managed not to come – something he felt he had been very close to doing while Eliza came in his mouth.
"Condom," he whispered, wiping away the sweat from his forehead and smiling as he caught his breath.
He blinked, trying to focus again after his sight had blurred for a second. Now he remembered: he hadn't had lunch. Or dinner, thanks to the breadsticks mishap. What a brilliant idea, to engage in a marathon of sex with an empty stomach!
In the meantime, Eliza had handed him the condom, and was now reaching out for the bottle of champagne.
"Love, I don't think I'll join you," he said, casting a quick glance towards her as he broke the packet with his teeth. "I might pass out if I drink."
Eliza tilted her head as she popped the bottle open.
"You? You're kidding."
"Honest."
"Wow," she whispered, before taking a swig from the bottle. "Have you eaten, at least?"
He licked his lips, and tried not to laugh as he raised his eyebrows at her question.
