by Penny Wylder
She squirms underneath me, and for a few seconds I can’t even think. “I can think of a few things that would solve that problem,” she says, reaching down to touch me. Her fingers bring my focus straight downwards, and just the barest brush of them feels amazing.
“Tell me what you want,” I say.
“You.” It’s an automatic answer, too fast to not be true.
“More than that,” I say. “Give me a fantasy.”
Amber freezes, blushes. “I don’t have any.”
I lean down to kiss her neck. “I don’t believe you.”
“Really,” she says, “I don’t.”
Pulling back, I left myself fall onto the bed beside her. “Are you embarrassed?” I ask, tugging on her hip so she turns on her side towards me and we’re pressed up against one another.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink. “Because fantasies are fantasy. They’re not real. They’re just there to get you off, not to act out.”
“Whoever told you that is a goddamn liar,” I say, taking her mouth in a kiss, and I don’t stop until she’s breathless and her eyes stay closed when I pull back. “I told you that I wanted your lipstick on me and you made it happen. Isn’t that a fantasy?”
“I guess so.”
"Just tell me one," I say. "Not all of them. Just one. For now."
And later I might ask why it's so hard for her in the first place, but right now I'm watching her watch me, see the way she wets her lips with her tongue and the way she leans closer. "It's going to sound weird," she says.
"I don't care."
She swallows. "I want," another hesitation, "for you not to care about what I want." I feel my eyebrows rise in shock that I'm not sure I'm in control of. Amber looks down but keeps going. "I mean, I don't want to think or make decisions, because I do that all day. I want you to fuck me the way that you want to. What you want to do that makes you feel good, and I know that I'll feel good too. If there's something I don't want I tell you, but I don't want to think. I know it's a weird fantasy, and I'm not sure it's a fantasy, and I'm still pretty drunk, but that's what I want."
I stroke my hand down her side. "I don't think that's weird at all."
She looks up at me, eyes wide. "You don't?"
"No," I say, kissing her softly, "because your fantasy is to have someone take care of you."
"It's more than that," she says, "It's—"
"I know it's more, but that's part of it. And you don't have to think anymore." I kiss her again, long, and slow, and deep, and when I pull away her eyes are glazed with lust. If she wants me to take control, I will happily do that. And if she doesn't want me to care about what she wants, I'm not sure I can discard that entirely, but I can pretend. "And now you're going to finish what you started in the bathroom."
I move away from her, pulling her with me so that her head is at the edge of the bed and her eyes are wide but she doesn't look scared or nervous. She looks happy. "Open," I say, touching my cock to her lips.
She does, and I slide inside. God, her mouth is heaven. Back at Fantasia she drove me to the brink with her mouth, but if I'm controlling the pace, I can make it last. And I plan on making it last. Amber's red hair is cascading off the bed, and looking down, watching my cock disappear between her lips, I swear I get harder. I didn't even think that it was possible at this point.
Amber shocked me when she took me in her throat, and I want that. I want to see my cock bulge in her throat, and I will. But slowly. I fuck her mouth in smooth, short thrusts, making sure she has time to breathe before I move deeper. And deeper still. Even before I get to her throat she's taking most of me, and when her tongue peeks out from between her lips as she's taking me down I almost lose control.
"Take a deep breath," I tell her, and she does, and I slide all the way in. Into the slight resistance of her throat and holy fucking god that feels good. I push further and force my eyes open because I need to see. And there it is, a distinctive bulb in her throat that's the head of my cock.
I pull back for her to breathe and then push in again, watch myself appear. Watch myself push deeper, and watch the rhythm I set to fucking her mouth. It feels so good, and Amber hasn't hesitated once. "Amber," I say as I push down again, "seeing myself in your throat might be the hottest goddamn thing I've ever seen," I tell her.
She moans around my cock and I almost lose it, but not yet. I'm getting close. To the point where I'm clenching my jaw and forcing myself not to come, but I'm not going to come yet. I push in one more time, and there. Amber's lips are pressed against my stomach, my cock fully in her throat. It's so fucking hot, and then I fuck her throat. Now that I'm all the way in, this is what I want. I pull back and thrust deep, never quite leaving her throat, only pulling back when she needs to breathe, but then I'm there again, sliding to the hilt with every smooth thrust and riding the high of pleasure that's just before an orgasm.
Amber gasps for air, but opens her mouth without question, and just when I'm deepest in her throat, she swallows. Lightning flashes across my vision as the feeling sends me over the edge, and I'm blind and panting, cock spasming in her throat as I come. I drive into her throat harder, pushing out every bit of pleasure that punches through me until it's gone and I pull back, spent.
"Holy shit," I say, and Amber smiles.
I help her turn around, and I don't tell her what I'm going to do, but I'm on my knees in front of her and I push her back to lie on the bed and part her legs. She’s like a feast in front of me. "Peter," she says, and I can hear the hesitation. She told me not to care about her needs, so I put on my most commanding character and crawl up until our faces are so close I can feel her breath. "You told me to do what I want, and I am. Right now you're mine to taste, and I'm going to. Maybe I'll make you come, maybe I won't. But this isn't your choice."
She closes her eyes and I see her shiver. Interesting. I file the reaction away for later, because there's some things I want to think about, but I'm not about to stop in the middle of sex for it. I drag my tongue down between her breasts and across her stomach until I'm in front of her pussy again, and I can see it glistening. I don't hesitate, putting my full mouth on her and sucking deep. Amber arches off the bed, suddenly moaning, and I smile into her pussy. She's so aroused that I probably could have made her come by just blowing on her clit. But what she doesn't know is that when I told her that I might make her come, I'd already made the decision that I won't.
I want her to be writhing in pleasurable agony before she comes, and when she does, I'm going to be buried deep inside her. For these few, brief moments, I don't care about what she wants, and I'm going to make it happen. I lick across her skin, savoring the sweet and deep taste of her arousal as she moves under me, lifting her hips to try to angle herself better against my mouth. "No," I say, laying a hand across her stomach, and pinning her down. She stops moving, and I can feel the way her breath changes under my hand, speeding up. There's a burst of wetness in my mouth, and I drink her down. Just me telling her no made her wet.
I work my tongue on her clit in slow, steady strokes, and I can feel her tensing, getting ready, and just before she goes over the peak, I pull back. Amber gasps in frustration and her head pops up, looking down at me. I just smile, instead using my hands to soothe down her sides and stomach and across her thighs, going nowhere close enough to her pussy to send her over. Amber opens her mouth, and I can see it happen.
She's going to ask why I stopped, why I don't keep going, and the realization of her own request hits her. She understands that if I don't care about what she wants, then I don't care if she comes. "Oh," she says. "Wow."
Her head falls back, and I follow her again so I can see her eyes. I settle myself so she can feel my cock between her legs but I'm doing nothing with it to stimulate her, and it's driving her mad. "Wow?"
She's blushing and raising her hands to cover her face, but I catch them, pin them to the bed beside her so that she can'
t hide. "What's going on?"
"It's different than I imagined," she says.
"Bad different?"
Her blush tells me all I need to know about that.
I laugh, and press a kiss to the side of her neck that she leans into. "This is what you wanted, right? To not think? To not choose?"
"Yes," her voice is barely a whisper.
"Then I'm choosing to not let you come until I want you to."
Her eyes dilate and I can tell the thought excites her. "Are you going to let me come tonight?"
"Yes," I say, but I like the thought of driving her crazy for days. "But maybe not next time. We'll see."
She tests her hands, pushing on mine to see if I'll release her. I don't. But she doesn't fight, she seems to relax into it, and I kiss her. We can taste each other, and it makes me fully hard again. I want to be inside her, but I'm not going to rush this.
I ease back down her body, and this time I use my fingers, dipping inside and stroking across her G-spot with them until I'm fucking her with my hand and she's begging me to go faster and do more. I don't. I move at a steady pace that's fast enough to make her shake but not fast enough to give her what she needs. Amber's body is starting to glisten with sweat, and God, I want to lick it all off her. I think about dragging her into the shower and washing her from head to toe, and that's something we're going to do, too. Maybe in the morning.
Amber's pussy clenches around my fingers, and she cries out as I pull them back, letting her orgasm collapse into nothing. She groans, "Why?"
"Because I don't care about what you want," I say.
I can feel her shiver. For a few minutes I just touch her, massaging her until she relaxes and all that orgasmic tension is gone. And then I'm on her again. Mouth and fingers both this time, I consume her. I suck her clit between my teeth and graze it while I'm stroking her inside, and she's suddenly there again. So fast and so close that I almost don't pull away in time. She screams, "Peter, please."
I grab a condom from my drawer and slip it on. I'm doing what she asked, but I'm also not a monster. Well, maybe I am a little, because I have an idea. Sliding into her, I groan at the way she grips my cock, pussy clenching down like it's desperate to be fucked, and I imagine that it is at this point.
"How badly do you want to come right now?"
She grabs at me, hands landing on my arms, desperate, fingers digging into my skin in a way I like. "So badly. How badly is a million badly?"
"I'm going to fuck you," I say, "and you're going to count down from sixty. Out loud. You can come when you reach zero."
She moans, and it turns into a whine but she doesn't protest, just closes her eyes, leaning back on the bed, and I like this. In the last ten years I've had a few partners who were a little kinky, but this is Amber. I like playing with her. I like knowing that this is what she wants, and even though she hates how much she wants to come, she likes that I'm telling her not to.
I thrust my hips a little deeper, and she gasps. "Count," I say to her, because I'm not going to hold back. I fuck her. Hard. Every ounce of worry and frustration I've had over the last few days, every fantasy and every need. Every thought of how badly I wanted her I put into fucking her. She's counting in my ear, breathless and desperate and trying to count but stopping and not able to continue because I'm going too fast, too hard, and I laugh. "The slower you count," I say, "the longer until you can come." She starts again. Forty, thirty-five. Twenty-five. I let myself give in to my pleasure, not holding back and rolling my hips so that the friction on my cock drives me higher. Amber is still counting. Fifteen. Ten.
I drive home, plunging into her with a speed I didn't know I had, and I let go, the world exploding as she hits zero. Amber screams, pussy clamping down around me as her orgasm rips through her and mine is there too. It's like flying through a galaxy of exploding stars, and I don't stop fucking because it feels too good to stop, and Amber is shaking underneath me with hers, holding onto me for dear life.
A final burst of pleasure flashes behind my eyes and my head clears. Amber is still feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm, and every move I make with my cock makes her moan. I could probably make her come again. And I want to, so I do.
Reaching between us, I press my thumb on her clit, rolling it in circles, and she moans, "Please. please."
"Yes."
I move my thumb faster and faster, circling until I see her go tense, this orgasm fast and quiet, but her eyes close and her back arches and I know it feels just as good. I kiss her briefly before slipping out of her to get rid of the condom and quickly scrub the lipstick off my cock before climbing into bed with her again, pulling her up to the head of the bed beside me and covering us both with a blanket. She makes herself comfortable draped across my chest.
"That was a good fantasy," I say, laughing.
"Yeah." Her voice is hoarse, and I can't help smiling. I don't know any man in the world who wouldn't feel pride at making his woman scream so much they lose their voice. That might be my next goal. We'll see.
I run my fingers through her hair and she sighs. It doesn't feel right to speak above a whisper. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah," she says, still quiet.
"Why are you embarrassed by your fantasies."
The little I can see of her face turns pink. "Because."
"That's not a real reason."
She looks up at me, and makes a face. "It's not so different from being a female director. People automatically assumes that sexual fantasies are for men. Including most men. We're there to be fantasies, not to have fantasies."
I roll us over so she's on her back and I can see all of her face, study her. I'm never going to get tired of looking at her face. "Let me guess, you shared a fantasy with someone and they didn't like it."
"Something like that," she says, avoiding my eyes. "They laughed."
Anger surges through me, hard and fast, but that's not what Amber needs. "I'm never going to laugh at you," I say, adding a smile. "Well, not about this. I never knew that you were kinky."
"I'm not."
"It's okay if you are," I say quickly. "I don't mind."
She shakes her head. "I'm not kinky."
"So you just like me telling you what to do?"
Amber bites her lip and blushes again. But this makes sense. Even in high school, Amber was calmest when I helped her, when I was physically on top of her like a thunder blanket, and inside her so she was distracted. The seeds were always there even if I didn't notice them. "It's okay," I say softly in her ear. "Everybody has the stuff they like, and there's nothing wrong with that."
She reaches out to me, stroking her hand down my arm. "It's just weird and embarrassing."
"Why?"
"Because I've worked hard to be where I am, and I find it strange that you telling me that I'm not allowed to do something turns me on."
I give her a slow smile. "It turns me on too."
"But it shouldn't. I shouldn't need it."
Tucking her closer in to me, I kiss her shoulder. "I said it before, even if you don't agree with it. You're a director. Every day you're in charge and you're making decisions about things from the time you walk onto the lot until the time you walk off it. And sometimes even after that. And on top of that all the stuff that's being thrown at you as a woman in a field full men, it's got to be exhausting. So I don't find it weird or embarrassing or strange that you want a space where you don't have to think or make any decisions and are just allowed to feel."
Amber ducks her head against my shoulder. "I hate it when you're right."
I laugh, running a hand through her hair again and stretching it out on the pillow. After a second she pulls her head back to look at me. "But what about you?"
"What about me?"
She sighs. "You don't need the stress of that. Of making all those decisions. It seems like a lot of work."
Leaning down, I press my lips to her forehead. "I'm happy to," I say. "I'm an actor. I spend most of my day g
etting instructed. Consulted sometimes, but I'm not exactly at the place in my career where my fame can dictate decisions. And even if I didn't spend a lot of time being told what to do, I would be happy to do this for you."
"But—"
I cut off her words with my lips. "I love you," I say when I pull away. "I don't need to be in control to enjoy sex, but don't begin to think that I didn't enjoy that. Thoroughly." I punctuate my words with a movement of my hips so her attention is drawn to my cock for a moment. "You worry too much."
She's looking at me like she wants to protest, and I can see that this is going against everything that she thinks is true, even if it's what she wants and needs. "I'll make you a deal," I say.
"What kind of deal?"
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're really worried right now that you're putting too much on me, that it will be a burden, that I won't like it after a while."
Amber blushes again. "Yeah."
"So let's just try something, because this is still new enough that we're going to stumble and struggle and try to make it work. And I don't want to fall into habits that make neither of us happy and are too hard to change later. Plus, I think it will make you worry less."
"Okay," I can tell she's still uncomfortable, but she's listening.
“For the next week, you’ll be in charge at work, I’ll be in charge during sex, and neither of us will be in charge otherwise.”
“So…”
“So you don’t have to worry or think about what you want to do, I will take care of it. And you. I do want to hear more about your fantasies, but I’m not going to push you, because we have time. But if this is something that works for us, we’ll know.”
“I’m not going to crawl on the floor and call you ‘sir,’” she says.
“I’m not asking you to,” I say, “but I’m telling you that we’re going to sleep for a while, and in the morning before both of us have to be at work, I’m going to take you into the shower and wash every bit of you myself, and then I’m going to get you off.”
Her breath catches, chest rising and falling faster. “Yeah. Okay.”
“So you want to try it?”
