Red Skye at Night (17 page)

“Score?”

“Still two, Sir.”

He withdraws his finger, and I moan in genuine disappointment. The sensation had been good. Strange, unfamiliar, but good. A moment later he inserts the digit again, more firmly this time, probing deeper. It feels slicker, sliding into me easily. He’s obviously reloaded with lube, and my arse is cooperating beautifully. I had not expected this to be so easy. I certainly would never have imagined I could feel so relaxed while this was happening to me.

Harry continues to poke his finger into me, deeper now, the full length of it. He thrusts several times.

“Score now?”

“Still two, Sir.”

“I’m impressed.”

He’s not the only one.

He withdraws again. This time I know why, I think, so I lie still, patient as I wait for the re-lubed finger to slip into my arse again. It does, but this time it’s not alone. Two slippery fingers are pressed into the tight space. This hurts—only a little, but it is uncomfortable.

“Oh, Sir…”

“Score, Hope?”

“Three, Sir. No, four.”

“Okay. Slow and gentle, I’ll give you time to adjust. There’s no need to be scared, Hope, you’re doing fine. Better than fine.”

Maybe I am doing fine, but this is just two fingers, and I feel as though I’m already stretched to my absolute limit. His cock is wider, longer. Surely I can’t…

“You’re tensing up, Hope. Starting to panic.” As ever, he’s perfectly attuned to my responses.

I’m aware that his fingers are still inside me, but he’s not moving them. I lie still, wondering what comes next.

“Spread your legs, honey. I think a little immediate gratification might help here.”

Obligingly I shuffle my feet apart, widening my stance. Harry leans around me to part my labia with his free hand.

“Oh, God,” I moan. The caress across my pussy is so sweet, so utterly sensual. “Do I have permission to come?”

“Of course. For now.” He angles his hand so that two fingers are inside my pussy, his thumb rubbing my clit. My body responds powerfully, my orgasm pulsing forward from almost nothing to sweep through me in deliciously sensual waves. I’m groaning in delight, writhing against the pillows, my entire consciousness centered on the sensual tingling at my core. Harry continues to stroke my pussy long after the climax has passed, the caress relaxing, offering reassurance every bit as much as arousal. As the tremors of orgasm fade, I become conscious that the fingers in my arse are moving again, slow, smooth, stroking in and out. Harry managed to distract me entirely, and took advantage of my relaxed state to insert a third finger. Now the sensation of fullness, of tightness, is pleasurable rather than frightening, and wickedly intimate.

“Score, Hope.”

“Two, Sir. Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me, Hope?”

“I was scared. So tense. That really helped.”

“Not scared now?”

I wriggle my hips. “No, Sir. I’m so relaxed I could fall asleep.”

Harry chuckles and slaps my bottom, hard enough to smart. “Cheeky little sub. I don’t think you’ll be nodding off any time soon. Relaxed is good, though. We can do so much more with relaxed.”

I lie still, utterly contented as he strokes his fingers in and out, twisting his hand to widen my entrance, and scissoring his fingers inside me. The pressure against my inner walls is heavenly. An idea occurs to me. I wonder if he might, if I could ask him to…

“Sir?”

“Yes, Hope? Is there a problem?”

“No, Sir. It feels good, so good. I was wondering if you could, perhaps, if you might…?”

“Say it, Hope.”

“Could you use your other hand to finger-fuck my pussy at the same time? Please, Sir.”

“Ah, now you do sound enthusiastic. Perhaps you’re developing a taste for this after all. How’s this?”

He slips two, no three fingers deep into my cunt, pressing against my back wall. The sensation is incredible, both his hands so close but separated by a thin membrane. I shiver, the pressure intense, but so sweet. I know I’m about to climax again.

“I’m going to come, Sir. I can’t help it. I… Oh, oh yes…” I abandon any attempt at further conversation as the glorious waves of another orgasm wash through me. I lie, shivering, Harry’s hands working their magic inside me. I’m convinced that nothing ever felt as good as this, nor ever could. My climax, so sudden, passes quickly. I turn my head, peeping back at Harry.

“Zero, Sir.”

He grins at me, the expression wicked. Pure lust. “Zero? Not sure I like zero. Time to ratchet things up a little.”

“Yes, Sir, if you think that’s best.” Whatever he has in mind, he’ll get no protest from me.

I can’t contain my whimper of disappointment as he withdraws his fingers from both my entrances, but my mood shifts slightly as I watch him pull a condom from his pocket. He tosses it on the bed beside me, then washes his hands in the small basin so helpfully supplied by the hotel. He returns to me in moments and starts to unfasten his jeans.

“One, Sir. Two. Three.”

“You’re going to be fine. Trust me, Hope. I won’t be forcing you. Your body responds so beautifully, I won’t need to. Could you climb right onto the bed now, please?”

The calming effects of Harry’s fingers are dissipating fast, but I obey immediately. I lie face down without waiting for further instructions, then watch over my shoulder as Harry undresses. I wasn’t sure if he’d be naked too, but it seems that’s his intention. His T-shirt hits the carpet, he kicks off his designer trainers and drops his jeans. His boxers follow, and he kneels beside me on the bed.

“You have a hot body, Sir. Am I allowed to say that?”

“You are, Hope. And for the record, so do you.”

I shake my head, even though I like that he says such nice things to me. But there’s no escaping the fact that his body isn’t marred by surgical scars—his limbs all work as they should.

“Can you bring both your knees up under you, please? Lift your bum up.” His command is terse, efficient.

I know that the moment has come, and despite his extensive preparations, I’m starting to panic again. My right leg is cooperating more fully than it has in ages, and I succeed in positioning myself as instructed before burying my face in the duvet. “Four, Sir.”

“Noted. I’m not going to offer to slow down, though, because that won’t help you now. My words were muffled, but he must have heard me. “Right now you need to believe that you can do this, and you’ll only believe that when it’s happened. So we do it now. No fuss, no protests. Just let me in. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, I…”

His hand caresses my shoulder, stopping my apology. “Hush, sweetheart. You’re doing really well.” As he talks to me, his voice low, soothing, he’s applying more lube to my arse, working the slickness into my already unresisting opening. Some of my earlier arousal starts to rekindle.

There’s a snap of foil, a slight rustle, and I know he’s sheathed himself. Moments later the head of his cock is nudging against my arse. I hold still, my body tensing, despite all my best efforts, as he uses his fingers to help ease the tip inside, past the sphincter. I groan, expecting a sudden spurt of pain, but it never happens. Instead, Harry leans around me, his middle finger connecting firmly with my clit. He rubs, circling the pad of his digit over my sensitive nub. I would not have thought I could respond, but he knows better. I do—I respond with another powerful, racking orgasm, pulsing through me, driving all thoughts of fear and pain from my head. And it’s then that Harry presses forward—whilst I’m spasming wildly, helplessly, he drives the full length of his cock into my arse.

My body offers not a shred of resistance, not even token. It’s done in moments, my arse straining, so full, so tight, so exquisitely stretched.

“Oh God. Oh God, that’s…”

“Score, Hope?” he murmurs into my ear, his breath warm on my neck as he leans in to me.

I’m not sure what to say. This is intense, my score is not going down. But if it rises, it’s to register something else. Something exciting, fulfilling, infinitely beautiful. At last I manage to come up with something.

“Five. But it’s a good five, Sir. Thank you.”

“Tell me if it turns into a bad five, or a bad anything else.”

I nod, mutter something that I suppose he correctly interprets as agreement, but I fear I’m becoming incoherent now. I stretch my arms out in front of me, intending to grip the duvet, but Harry reaches for my hands and laces his fingers through mine. He’s effectively pinning me to the bed, but the connection is grounding, comforting, assuring me that he cares. That he will care for me.

He withdraws his cock, almost pulling right out of me, then slides it back in. Despite the copious lubrication I’m intensely aware of the friction, dragging pressure along every part of my inner walls, every taut inch sensuously massaged. I whimper, but this time it’s in response to pure sensation, the utter sweetness of his tender, leisurely strokes. He’s unhurried but firm, each smooth stroke delivered with precision, angled just right. It’s edgy, sexy, sensual and utterly divine.

“Oh my Lord, I never— I thought…”

“Something to say, Hope?”

“No, Sir, not just now. Except, don’t stop.”

“Okay, kitten, not for a while yet at least. But now we’ve got the scary part out of the way, it’s time to have some fun.”

“I am having fun.”

“Not enough. I promised to ramp it up a bit. Kneel up.”

“What? How can I…?”

As if in answer, Harry lets go of my hands, only to wrap his arms around my waist. Holding me close to maintain our connection he kneels up himself and hauls me up against his chest. He settles me on top of his thighs, his knees between mine. He spreads his own legs, easing mine farther apart. The effect is to open and display my pussy for whatever attention he might think fit.

“Reach up, Hope and link your fingers behind my head.”

The command is murmured, but obedience is expected. And given. I manage to do as he’s instructed, though it’s a stretch. The position arches my back, thrusting my breasts outwards.

“Mmm, you look so sexy, so beautiful. You see?

“I— No— How can I…?”

“Over there. The mirror.” He cups my chin with his hand and directs my attention to the full-length glass on the wardrobe door. I’m displayed there, decadent and sexily mussed. My eyes are wide, and darkened with arousal. He’s right. I do look sexy. So does Harry, his firm chin resting on the crown of my head, his reflected eyes meeting mine. He smiles at me.

“Score, sweetheart?”

“I’m not sure. It should be one, because I’m fine. No, not fine, better than that. But I don’t feel calm exactly.”

“Oh?”

I drop my gaze, overwhelmed by the intensity, the intimacy of this shared moment. Harry cradles my chin and tips it back up. “I said, oh? Tell me how you feel now, please.”

I have no choice, I must attempt to articulate my chaotic emotional response, and I must do it to Harry’s satisfaction. That means digging deep, exposing my vulnerabilities. Even one day ago I might not have been able to do this, would have tried to feign some less personal reaction. Today that’s impossible. Here, Harry’s cock deep in my arse, my body open and his fingertips even now tracing a delicate design on the outer swell of my right breast, it is quite impossible. I try to find words.

“I’m surprised, because I never expected this to happen so, so—effortlessly. I knew I wouldn’t fight you, because you wouldn’t make me. You would just stop. But I expected to feel…” I hesitate, grateful that I managed to come up with anything at all, but I’m not done yet. I decide to say exactly what’s in my head. “I expected to feel violated. I expected to hate this. I would have let you do it. I’ll let you do anything, I think. You must know that. But I never expected to accept it. To want it.”

I squeeze my inner muscles around him to emphasize my point, astonished to find a hint of playfulness somewhere. He nuzzles the back of my neck in response.

“Are you trying to hurry matters along, little sub? I have to tell you…it won’t work. I’m going to be taking a long time over this. Over you.”

“I’m glad, Sir. I’m in no rush.”

“Good girl. Do you have more to say to me?”

I do, and now that the floodgates have inched open, if only slightly, the torrent of emotion is rushing through, the flood unstoppable.

“Yes, Sir. I feel free, uninhibited. Powerful, because I can do anything I want. And, and—beautiful. You make me feel beautiful. Sir.”

“You are beautiful, Hope. See how beautiful you are.” He gestures toward the mirror again.

“Desirable perhaps, to you, right now.”

“To me, always. But especially now. Your trust, your submission, those are so precious. You take my breath away, Hope.”

I stare at him, at his reflection in the mirror. So large in comparison to me, powerful yet supremely gentle. He could hurt me, he will hurt me, but never unintentionally. Always measured, always in control. Always safe.

I love you.

I bite back the words. He doesn’t want this. He wants my submission. He has it. He wants my emotional response as well as my physical surrender. He has that too. And my absolute trust. More would complicate things, create expectations he can’t meet, and that I don’t want him to meet. I have my life. After this, I will still have my life, my ambitions. My plans for the future. But here, now, I want more of that immediate gratification he mentioned.

“Please, Sir… I want you to fuck me. Hard.”

“So brave suddenly. Where’s this come from, Hope?”

“I trust you, Sir. I want this, now. I do want this.”

“You shall have it, my demanding little slut. When I’m ready. First, I have some exploring to do. And I don’t want you to speak again until I give permission. Understood?”

I nod, allow my eyelids to drop in total acceptance as I lean my weight back against his chest. The slight movement alters the angle of his cock inside me, reminding me of his presence there, filling me completely. I bite my bottom lip to prevent a moan escaping.

“Use your fingers to part the lips of your pussy for me, please.”

Ah, I am not to be entirely passive then. I unlace my fingers, still locked behind his head, and slip both hands between my legs. I open my eyes to watch my progress in the mirror, no longer even remotely inhibited. This is Harry, me and Harry, and sheer bliss.