The Queen

“I was a Boy Scout a million years ago. Gotta be prepared.” He gave her a three-fingered salute.

Griffin set the open briefcase next to her on another pillow. He sat back on his knees and unzipped his pants.

“No cock yet,” she said wagging her finger in that way Kingsley wagged his. Great, now she was doing it. Must be a dom thing.

“I know, but I want to get closer to you. Is that okay?”

She smiled at him. “Very okay. But first—touch yourself.”

His jeans were unzipped and open, hanging low on his narrow hips. She wished she had a camera to take a picture of this scene—Griffin running his hand up and down and all over his erection, the look on his face as he stared directly in her eyes while he did it, shameless, sensual, sexual, all in one.

She crooked her finger at him and he crawled over her kissing her on the mouth again.

“Can I take your clothes off?” he asked. “Please?”

“Of course.”

She sat up to help him pull her shirt off. This time she didn’t have to tell him to fold it neatly and put it away like a good boy. Fast learner. She liked that.

He unzipped her denim skirt and folded it. He slid her bra off her arms and hung it from the knob on the nightstand drawer. When he went for her boots she issued an order.

“Leave those on.”

“With pleasure,” Griffin said, dipping his head to kiss the laces.

“For a dom, you’re a very good sub.”

Griffin grinned at her. “If I have to fold your underwear and kiss your boots to get inside you, then I’m more than happy to do that. But—for the record—King diagnosed me as a born service top.”

“You think I’m bottoming from the top?”

“Maybe I’m just topping from below.” He kissed her right on the tip of her nose. Typical top. She’d show him who was boss. At least in this scene.

Elle laughed as Griffin yanked off his jeans and, naked, slid into bed next to her. He gathered her in his arms and put her on top of him, his chest to her back. With the padded headboard behind him, Griffin was half sitting up, which made her feel as if she were lying on a human chaise longue. A human chaise longue with a massive erection halfway up her ass. She ground her hips from side to side and in a slow undulating circle.

“Vicious wench,” he said. “If you keep doing that I’m going to come on your back.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“I’m not?”

“You aren’t allowed to come until I’m done coming.”

“You didn’t say that earlier.”

“New rule,” she said. “I make the rules. You follow the rules.”

“In that case, we better get to six fast before I break that rule all over the both of us.”

From inside the briefcase he pulled out a medium-size vibrator, about six inches long and of average thickness. She was already wet from her previous orgasm so it slid into her easily. Griffin put it on its lowest setting and she turned her face to meet his. As he fucked her with the vibrator they kissed again, a long, slow, deep kiss. His one free hand cupped her right breast and squeezed it. He grasped her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, kneading it lightly. Her whole body felt his presence. Her thighs were draped over his thighs, her back rested against his stomach and chest, his arms wrapped around her and his mouth was on her mouth. When she came a second time it was against his lips. The mingling of their breaths as she climaxed was as erotic as the orgasm itself.

Griffin turned the vibrator up to a higher setting and fucked her with it again. The fingers of his free hand massaged her clitoris gently and it wasn’t long before she came a third time with a deep shudder.

After number four he took the vibrator out of her and explored her with his bare hands.

“God, you’re so wet,” he said in her ear and she could hear the strain in his voice, the need. “I can’t stop touching you.”

He pulled her folds wide, spreading her out and pushing two, then three, then four of his fingers into her. With his four fingers inside her, he moved his hand in a spiraling motion, circling in and out, in and out, the spiral widening with every turn and his fingers finding soft spots and muscles inside her she’d forgotten she had.

She could hardly stand it, how good it felt, how open she was, and how much she wanted him. She could barely breathe for it, for the pleasure and the pressure and the slow building toward release. Underneath her Griffin’s hips pushed against her. They were adrift together, moving and rocking and floating above the bed.

“Please come for me. Come on my hand so I can feel every muscle inside you,” he said as he pushed the heel of his palm against her clitoris.

“Deeper,” she said.

“Faster,” she said.

“Harder,” she said.

Griffin did all three and he did them all at once. When she came for her fifth time it was with a cry that sounded to her own ears like pain but her body told her differently. The muscles inside her contracted all around Griffin’s fingers, hard enough he swore in her ear.

“Fuck,” he said, slowly pulling his hand from inside her.

“Good idea.”

“What?”

“Let’s fuck.”

“But that was only number five.”

“What did I say about the rules?” she asked.

“You make the rules.”

“Right. Now I’m changing the rules. I need to fuck you. I’ll die if I don’t.”

“No one ever died from not fucking,” he reminded her.

“Whoever said that was an idiot. Get on your back, head by the footboard. I want to tie you up and use your cock for my own selfish needs. Do you have any objection to that?”

“I—”

“Don’t care. Just do it.”

He just did it.

Her legs wobbled as she stood up and dug through Griffin’s closet for bondage toys. Not in the mood to be fancy, she grabbed a pair of basic rope cuffs, wrapped them around the top bar of the footboard and slipped them onto Griffin’s wrists.