What about when you brought up having babies? What was that he said, hmm? “You’re talking to me about offspring. Crying infants that shit and puke. What the fuck's gotten into you?” sounds pretty darn rattled to me.
One exception. And he recovered right away. Thirty seconds of being disconcerted hardly counts.
He got drunk with Matthew that night.
Coincidence. Clearly he’s over it.
He certainly seemed unfazed by her lustful display of affection. Laughter gleamed in those blue eyes when he finally managed to set her away. Charli’s cheeks burned. Worse, her nipples tingled, and she knew they must be sticking out ridiculously.
Additionally, she felt shy, knowing she’d embarrassed herself, and also, let’s face it, shy to be greeting Draken Almatto here in this hotel.
Draken Almatto, by some miracle the husband of her. Who’d just gotten an impressive award, as if he weren’t renown enough. How could this man really be her husband?
This happened sometimes to her. Especially around strangers, she'd get the sense she was married to two men, the public man everybody owned a piece of, and the worshipful lover who was all her own.
“Uh, yeah, so, hi,” she mumbled.
“Hmm.” His grunt, coupled with his teasing look, was a full octave lower than his usual deep baritone, making her shiver. Avoiding meeting his eyes, she fluttered her hand in a little wave at all their watchers.
Draken introduced her with two succinct words. “My wife.”
“Mrs. Almatto!”
“Charli Almatto!”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Almatto.”
“Draken’s been telling us all about you.”
The chorus of greetings, the hands flying out, made Charli tongue-tied while she shook hand after hand. She hadn’t yet mastered all the appropriate social moves for the fancier, more stylish functions she had to attend with her husband.
Draken generally dismissed her concerns—You can act however the fuck you like, darling—but his cousin Matthew occasionally seemed to enjoy giving her etiquette lessons. When she tried to learn how to stop blushing and stammering, though, both men sabotaged her efforts.
“It's who you are,” Matthew kept saying blandly.
“No, don’t sit down,” Draken told her now as she started to sink bashfully into her seat. “Wei—Charli, I want you to meet Wei Young. Wei and Owen’s team—you remember Owen—” Charli’s blush deepened as she spotted the two neatly dressed young men—“have been working with the Almatto Gallagher Foundation. They’d like your help with a special project. Wei, you have the—great.” Draken accepted the object the other man passed to him and held it up high.
He paused, looked straight at Charli, and mouthed I love you.
The words and the wicked glint in his eyes were her only warning.
“There’s no reason not to get started right away,” he announced, setting his arm across her shoulders. “Charli’s got a tight schedule to keep to today, so let’s go ahead and make use of her now as she’ll be flying straight out again tonight.”
Charli stiffened, reacting to the ominous message contained in his words. Get started? Get started making use of her?
“As I was saying earlier, we’ll be killing two birds with one stone today. No doubt you can see after that greeting we just shared that my wife is in a state of heightened sexual arousal, with twofold cause—my absence and some pretty extreme orgasm prohib. She’s been hovering there for about a hundred hours now, isn’t that right, sweetness?”
After delivering that bombshell, Draken grinned down at Charli for confirmation.
Chapter 6
HEIGHTENED AROUSAL?
Orgasm PROHIB?
Whaaaaat….
But Draken was going on in what Charli recognized as his “engineer” voice. “Our mission tonight will be to try to harness that horniness while we test the Glas-Young rod. Charli's been loving using the Intelligent Dykstik to gain control over her vaginal muscles, and right at this moment she's dripping with enthusiasm for anything that promises to give her some relief.” He smiled at her ingenuously. “So to speak.”
Like a deer caught in headlights, Charli stood there frozen. Every humiliating word that had emerged from Draken's lips had drilled itself into her cells. As a result, her body now burst into flames. Within her core began a thundering throb that made standing on two legs a serious challenge. Because…mortification.
Her husband was still talking. She heard nothing.
“Mr. Almatto,” she croaked in a futile attempt to interrupt, automatically reverting to the name he had once insisted she always obsequiously call him, back when he was still in denial about what was between them.
While her mind began ping-ponging.
He wouldn’t.
Oh, no? Why wouldn’t he?
Well, because he loves you and this would purely humiliate you.
But that’s why he would, silly.
No, he wouldn’t. Not here. Not with this many of his professional peers who aren't even his employees or even in the same research field. He’s never gone quite this far before. Draken wouldn’t do that. Not….
Excuse me, did you forget who it was you married? Does Draken Almatto ever not push limits? About anything?
Well, well, um, there was this one time…hmm.
And does he not know your…particular…eclectic…tastes? Well? What was that? I didn’t hear you….
He knows, dammit. He knows my kinks better than I do.
Thank you. Now answer me this, oh Naive Side of Charli: does or does not your audacious husband manage to get away with murder on a regular basis and do you or do you not love it with every iota of your being?
Well, not literally murder. He’s actually pretty sweet. For a, you know, ruthless bastard.
I rest my case. Oh, and one more point. How long has it been since he’s sprung something like this on you?
Um…months?
Wouldn’t you say he’s well past due? Plus he was angry with you about something, if you’ll recall. What more do you need in terms of motivation?
Oh shit.
She forced herself to focus on Draken's words. When coping with his mischief, information was power.
“As a bit of background,” he was saying to the room at large, “and to settle once and for all the rumors that we've seen circulating…yes, my wife and I do occasionally enjoy mixing business with pleasure, at least when the occasion calls for it. We're all for sexual exploration as long as it's fun, harmless, and consensual. So folks, today in particular happens to be a very special occasion for us.”
Wait, he said what? Special occasion?
“First, I want to remind you that today’s events are confidential and the information shared here proprietary. Please refer to the document you all signed earlier. What this boils down to is the press won’t be joining us, security cameras are on blackout, and we’re enforcing social media silence—so no phonecams. If you’re here, it's because you’ve successfully convinced me you won’t be sharing tonight’s demonstration with anyone, including your pet goldfish. Basically,” he drawled, “I won’t fuck you over if you’re not a dick.”
“Your wife, now,” someone called out. “Does Charli officially work for your corporation?”
“No, Dr. Petrev, not officially, but she falls under the auspices of all agreements pertaining to ATC, in terms I set, as I am effectively my own Board of Directors.” He smiled with all his teeth. “For those of you who haven’t met Charli, this isn’t the first time we’ve recruited her help with ATJ field research. She's an old pro. You can see from her charming blush that this is an unexpected treat for her. It's also in a manner of speaking a surprise party. You see, what Charli doesn’t know is that the webcomic she publishes has just won a prestigious creative award.”
At this news, Charli stumbled back in shock. Her mind raced, and when it arrived at a likely destination, her heart thudded. Eyes wide, she let her lips silently form the name of th
e award, and Draken gave a faint nod.
“Somebody appears to have submitted my wife's work anonymously to the contest committee—” he smoothly ignored her muttered somebody?—“and yesterday the winners were announced. People, my Charli won second place. Given the calibre of competition she faced, you can imagine how proud I am of this woman, subtle though I may be about it at times.“ This was said so drily everyone laughed, as the Almatto couple was famous for their overt devotion to each other to the point of literally becoming an online meme. “My congratulations gift to her, then, is this dinner here, tonight. I'd say this makes tonight a celebration of achievement for both science and art.”
Whoa! It was?
Holy crap, Charli. He submitted your quirky panels! He knew you’d never do it! He has confidence in you! She tried to gasp out her befuddlement. “You…you really….”
“Here you go, Charli, put your foot up on this chair.”
Charli blinked rapidly at her husband. “But I don’t—”
“Foot,” he said crisply. “Up. High up here, so we can get this show on the road. In front of all these mathematicians, engineers, and trained scientists,” he added, showing he knew quite well how Charli reacted to being the subject of scientific scrutiny.
“But my skirt,” she whispered painfully.
“Is appallingly revealing,” he agreed, showing his dimple.
“This is super humiliating,” she breathed, raising her knee so her skirt slid up. Due to her woeful lack of panties, the action gave the people across the table a clear, lurid view of her very juicy private parts.
“Of course it is,” he murmured. “That's exactly why we appreciate your willingness to help us test the new device.” He bent to say into her ear, “Just in case you missed it, they've all signed a nondisclosure.”
“They did for real?” she whispered.
“Always, love. Even the servers.”
“And I really won second place? It’s not some practical joke?”
“You did.”
“And you didn’t rig the whole thing?”
“No, I damn well didn’t,” he said irritably.
“You look tired. Those are circles under your eyes. Have you been getting enough sleep?”
“Lift that skirt higher.” Now the edge in his voice was sharper.
“Um, are you still mad at—oh, shit,” she gasped.
Around her the scientists and engineers were talking, observing her in that way analytical people tended to do, with open curiosity, like she was some kind of fascinating, wondrous specimen. Then she saw the thing in Draken’s hand and blanched. He held it up high so it was visible to everyone in the room.
“Check it out, people. This right here is the Glas-Young rod. Charli will be giving it a whirl in a moment. Like the Dykstik, the Glas-Young has a responsive design, but with a notable difference. The Dykstik encourages the user to relax and contract her inner muscles. In contrast, this particular piece does something even more mind-blowing. It prolongs female orgasm. Some of you are no doubt thinking I refer here to helping the user build up to an explosive climax. Nope. We mean prolong. Assuming the sensor functions have been fixed and the coding is now free of errors, we should soon be looking at the first public demonstration of a ten-minute-long orgasm.”
After one incredulous glance at her husband, Charli burst into giggles.
Ten minute?
Orgasm?
“Yeah, sure,” she gasped. Then she caught her husband’s expression. Holy crap, he’s serious. “Wh-what?” Charli stammered. “WHAT?”
Draken ignored Charli, addressing the room. “Those with health concerns will be happy to hear the Glas-Young device has been tested as safe on people with excellent heart fitness, and of course as a woman in her prime, Charli’s health is phenomenal. Dr. Whitley, since you worked with the design team, why don’t you give us a rundown of what happens metabolically with this thing?”
A lanky, dark man stood up. “Happy to,” he said, and cleared his throat. “You have to realize the orgasms produced by the Glas-Young are not the same as your normal, everyday multiple orgasms or even your classic singular orgasm with clitoral and vaginal involvement. The ten-minute orgasm is actually a hair over nine and a half minutes long and is induced externally, with our device providing the stimulation that not only triggers but sustains an orgasm without the need for the user’s own body to produce the full suite of hormones and cellular energy needed for the normal orgasmic processes. If you like, you can think of it as a mostly mechanical process. Our working slogan is, 'Glas-Young makes it, you ride it.'”
There was a collective awed hush, and the man waited a minute for his listeners to absorb what Charli had to admit was a pretty amazing idea.
“Dr. Whitley? Assuming what you claim is true, how is it even feasible that this is medically sound?” a male voice somewhere behind Charli called out. “When I read the literature, it sounded like something out of a bad science fiction movie.”
The man chuckled. “I know, right? But the way it works, since we wanted the spasms to last a long time, we've perforce lowered the intensity to allow for a more subdued experience. It works out to be less strain on the respiratory and cardiovascular systems than a brisk walk of the same duration. Of course the user’s natural metabolic supports will affect the intensity level. Any other questions?”
“I have one,” Draken drawled. “Since my Charli is so turned on and she’s exceptionally fit and healthy, am I right in thinking the results will be that much more pleasurable for her?”
“Oh, yes,” Dr. Whitley said eagerly. “We’re not expecting screams, nothing on that scale, but you should get a long, fun, I like to describe it as gently pulsing ride for the user, followed by a period of deep, satisfying sleep when experienced in the ideal environment.”
“Draken,” a woman called out, “Are you really telling us this is one continuous orgasmic event?”
“And what's your basis for saying it's not dangerous?” another voice demanded.
“Indeed I do, Myrna. Mr. Christopher, we’ve done longitudinal studies for safety. On a more personal note, I assure you I’d never put my wife in any danger. We’ll be monitoring her closely as a precaution, but no, as long as it’s not misused, it’s no more dangerous than any other adult toy. As a further check, Charli can end the orgasm at any point by removing the device.”
Draken then turned to Charli and cupped her cheek. “Well, sweetness?” he murmured.
She knew what he was asking. “Okay. All right. Omigod. This is insane. You actually patented a new kind of orgasm. Are you like Frankenstein or something?”
His blue eyes gleamed. “Don’t panic, now.” He slipped a band around her wrist and lifted up her limp arm, and with unseeing eyes, Charli watched him fasten sticky pads onto her skin.
“Will I die? You’re sure I won’t die?”
“I’m sure. You can go ahead and lift your skirt all the way above your hips for us now.” He leaned down and growled in her ear, “Show us all that hardworking little pussy that’s been patiently waiting for its reward.”
Trembling with trepidation—she prayed Draken knew what he was doing here—Charli bent over and curled up the hem of her peach skirt all the way to the waistband. Now her gently swelling tummy was revealed smattered with freckles. As well as the damp wisps of dark hair below, framing her delicate pink lips, glistening with wetness.
In the taut silence that blanketed the room as attention zeroed in on Charli's pussy, Draken slowly raised his eyes to hers. “Go ahead and put it in.” He pressed the small rod into her hand.
“What?” Charli made herself focus on it. “Me? Now? H-here? Right now?”
“You don’t want me doing it,” he advised.
She gulped and, trying valiantly to ignore what had to be over twenty sets of eyes focused on her with keen, yet bizarrely dispassionate interest, tentatively inserted the G-Y device, trying to effect nonchalance.
Just your everyday after-dinner s
ex toy demonstration.
C'mon. Put it in. Bend your knees, take aim, and slide it right up there.
In front of this intimidating group of prominent researchers. And wait staff.
In a high class hotel.
Nothing new.
The thing went in embarrassingly easy and slick, and she almost convulsed on the spot with delight.
See? That was easy.
Then:
Oh, God, oh, shit. I can’t believe I just did that. All at Draken's behest. In front of all these scary people. While they looked at me. That woman over there and those guys at that table, look how fascinated they are! They all look really excited and interested. Holy hell.
Hastily she let the skirt fall and brought her leg down, restoring her modesty once more. Technically. And tried to keep her expression calm and dignified as she bravely met Draken’s eyes.
She didn’t fool him one bit.
“Very, very good job,” Draken purred. He sat down squarely on his chair. A moment later he was pulling her down into his lap to cradle her right up against his groin.
Charli jumped with surprise. Where it was hidden from view, Draken’s huge erection house itself between her bottom cheeks, pushy as hell, just like him. The evidence that he was so hungry for her only made her own desire a thousand times worse.
“Fuck, it’s good to see you,” he murmured into her hair too low for anyone else to hear, and she sensed him inhaling her scent. “Hey, stop squirming so much. What’s the matter?”
Chapter 7
WHAT WAS THE MATTER? He dared ask her what was the matter?
As if he didn't know the reasons she was freaking out.
Let's see, let's list them, shall we?
One. She wasn’t alone with him.
Two. She was a test subject.
Three. She was aroused enough that she might burst out crying.
Four. There was a rod inside her that everybody was fully aware of.
Five. Said rod was woefully inadequate, the equivalent of an erotic torture device.
Too Long: A Charli and Draken Epilogue Page 3
