Amour sans fin, phrase
Endless love.
The toy felt cold and slippery inside me. I rode it while I stared into Miles’ eyes, so hungry for more of him I would have done anything just to see that look on his face. Desperation mixing with need, and so much lust it was clouding his vision. It was everything I wanted, and I’d ride myself to tears if it meant getting more of it.
I felt myself drawing close to orgasm, his eyes encouraging me to let go of everything and let my body convulse on the dildo.
“Do… do you want me to?” I managed to get out, and his eyes glinted with need.
“Want you to what, sugar?” he asked.
“Want me to come?” I rasped, my voice reflecting the restraint I was forced to place on myself, because I wouldn’t do it without his permission.
“Of course I want you to come,” he growled, and I let out a sigh of relief, but then he was up on his feet and in one stride his finger was on my lips and he was tilting my chin back, making me look into his eyes. “Not yet, Bebe. You only come with me from now on. No more toys.”
I wanted to scream.
“Let me stop then,” I begged, my ass moving on top of the toy. “Let me stop, Miles.”
“Stop,” he said simply, and I fell forward on my elbows, groaning when the toy slipped out of my pussy with an embarrassing wet sound.
I crawled to his feet, lying in a heap on top of his gleaming boots. I had the overwhelming urge to lick the smooth black leather, but I fought against it. He’d already humiliated me enough.
“I want to take photos of you,” he muttered, and I looked up at him. “Like this. When you’re a mess. When you’re playing. When you’re mine.”
“Take them,” I whispered, and he reached for his pocket instinctively.
“I don’t have my camera,” he said.
“Take them with your phone,” I whispered.
“I…” He hesitated, staring down at me. For some reason, he didn’t want to do it. He was looking for excuses. I didn’t understand why, but now I was desperate for him to make this moment eternal.
“Please, Miles?” I asked sweetly, getting up on my knees and placing my palms on his thighs. My eyes connected with his, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed thickly. “Please. I want you to have this. Have me. Have everything.”
He brought his phone out of his pocket with shaky fingers and pointed it at me. I sat at his feet demurely, but I couldn’t help the smile making its way on my face as I stared up at him. I heard him chuckle when he took the picture.
“Aren’t you worried I’ll show someone?” he asked, and I gave him a devilish look.
“I know you won’t,” I said. “You’re too jealous.”
He stared me down as I laughed and put my head against his leg.
It was hard to understand Miles completely. Now that he was in my bedroom, though, I was starting to see more and more glimpses into who he actually was. He’d been a different person on the other side of the street. Untouchable, unknown. But he was real now, and it was heart-meltingly sweet and sad at the same time.
His weaknesses were splayed out plainly for me to see. I didn’t know the term for it, but I could see what he struggled with. I now understood why I’d never seen him in a club, or out in the city. He had trouble leaving his home, and he was even restless and shaky in my apartment. He was sensitive. Somehow, I could tell being this close to him was as exciting as it was hurtful for him. But I couldn’t leave, make it easier on him. Not now. I was already too far gone.
“What makes you think I’m jealous?” he finally asked me, and I looked up at him.
“Aren’t you?” I asked softly.
He groaned, and his hand lingered above my face before he let it touch me, gently caressing my cheek. His touch was electric.
“I am,” he said. “I’m jealous of every single person who so much as looks at you. I want to lock you up, so I’m the only one that gets to see you.”
Why did my skin prickle at the disturbing thought? Half of me wished he’d go through with it, while the other half shook with fear.
Instead, I snatched his phone out of his hand and giggled as I made my way across the room.
“Don’t run from me, Bebe,” he drawled, and our eyes connected with his simple request.
I didn’t want to run. The only place left for me to go was in his arms, and I wasn’t sure whether I ever wanted to leave them.
“I’m not running,” I said, holding the phone up.
His hand flew in front of his face when I snapped the picture. The photographer didn’t want any evidence of himself being involved. He was the man behind the camera, behind the scenes. I understood now that I was his subject, his muse. In the end, he was only there to take the photograph.
I placed the phone on a side table and approached him slowly.
“I Googled you,” I said, and his eyes widened, his pupils dilating. “Lana told me your last name.”
“You…” For once, he didn’t know what to say. I could almost hear the erratic beat of his heart, his panicked gaze meeting mine across the room.
“I know who you are,” I nodded with a wicked little mile. “I know what you do.”
He didn’t say a word. Just kept staring at me, eyes wide and imploring me to go on.
“You’re a photographer,” I said simply. “A very elusive one, I might add. You never go to any gallery openings. Half the people who follow you don’t even know what you look like. Not many photos of you online. I guess the only ones who know for sure are your subjects.”
I moved closer and noticed he was shaking.
“The girls,” I went on, my voice more than a little bitter. “Girl after girl after girl. Their tits. Nipples. Asses. Pussies. Erotic photos. Meant to get you off, meant to confuse you. Overlaid with images that you think represent them. Churches. Empty, cold, derelict buildings. That was a mean one. Flowers. A closed rose. A daisy in bloom. I was jealous of that one.”
“You don’t…” he started, but his voice trailed off into nothing. I had him. I knew everything. And he hated me for it, just as much as I hated myself.
“Sometimes I wonder,” I said softly. “What you’d choose for me. Maybe a heart-shaped pill. Maybe a bottle of champagne. Maybe you know me better than I know myself. Or maybe you don’t know anything at all.”
His strong, muscular body was shaking as I reached for him. I was torturing him, making him hurt. It had to be done. My fingers wrapped around his own and he clung to me desperately, like a lost child. It was heart-breaking. My anger, my jealousy dissipated. Vanished into thin air. He was just a man. A man who was hurting. A man I could try to fix…
“I don’t care,” I whispered. “About any of it. I’m the one that’s jealous. I don’t want you to do it anymore. I want you to take photos of me. Only me.”
“I…” Yet another unfinished sentence. I was desperate for him to go on, but he wouldn’t.
“Pick me,” I said softly, a replay of the conversation we’d had once already. “Just me, Miles. Why not? I’ll be good for you. The best girl you could want; the best you could wish for. You know I will be.”
“I…” He was at a loss for words. And I was grasping at straws, feeding my own desperation when he wouldn’t.
“Please,” I whispered, and he let out a slow exhale.
Then, his hands were on my shoulders. He pushed my naked body down to my knees and I gasped when he did it. My eyes were on his, straining to see through the haze that was now between us. He tugged down his zipper and his palm closed over his cock and he groaned at the sight of me on the floor like that. I wanted more, and I wasn’t afraid of reaching out to get it.
I hooked my thumbs in his jeans, tugging them down desperately. Miles didn’t try to stop me. I pulled them all the way down and then I got to work on his boxers. His fingers gripped the underwear but I begged him with my eyes to let me do it, let me get him naked and start working him. Finally, he let go, and his boxers fell away.
His cock was a monster, huge and thick, the veins throbbing right in my face and filling my mouth with water.
“Come on,” he groaned. “Don’t stare. It’s not polite, sugar.”
I leaned closer. My lips could barely wrap around his tip. He was so thick, bulging at the sight of me. When I tasted his precum I mewled helplessly, and he let out a sound so animalistic, I thought he would just succumb to his urges and take me like I wanted him to all along. But no, his hands were in fists and he was holding back, just like Miles always did. Too bad I wouldn’t do him the courtesy of acting the same prim and proper way. I had a reputation for a reason.
As my mouth wrapped around him, my eyes were glued to his and I started to suck. His taste filled my mouth, but I longed for so much more. I’d never get it like this, but I would sure as hell try and give him a taste of what I could do. Miles groaned when I went deeper, at first shyly, but my courage picked up with each lick and stroke of his throbbing cock. He tasted like power, and I was addicted to the way it made me feel. His height, his massiveness, made me think I was nothing but a doll, and I couldn’t get enough of it, knowing he could pick me up easily and do anything he wanted to my body.
“Jesus, Bebe,” he muttered when I choked myself on his length.
I looked up in time to see his hand linger above my head, his fingers touching a single strand of hair and testing its softness between their tips. He groaned at the feeling and it gave me the courage to be better, to show him what he’d been missing all along. I sucked harder, deeper, scraped his cock with my teeth.
The game we were playing would never have a winner. He kept pushing me away, and I kept crawling back, desperate for more. But I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted him more badly than anything else in my life, and I wouldn’t stop until he gave me what I wanted.
I licked the underside of his cock hungrily, from his balls all the way to the glistening tip, and he wrapped his fingers in my hair. I was getting sloppy, my mouth dripping, leaving a wet trail all over him. His cock dripped with my spit and he moved one of his hands under it, catching some and making me take it back in my mouth. It only served to encourage me, and I kept bobbing my head, desperate to get more of him inside me even when it was plainly obvious he would never fit.
I caught my breath and stared up at him, daring him to make me go on.
“Oh, Bebe,” he growled, a warning in his voice.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” I challenged him. “Walk away now, and I’ll leave you alone.”
The sight of such a big and powerful man trembling in front of me was bone-chilling. He wanted to move, his whole body screaming at him to get away, but he couldn’t move a step away from me. I watched his fists fall down next to his body and his eyes close in defeat, and then my mouth was back on him, taking more from him, taking everything I wanted to have.
This time, I didn’t show any mercy. I sucked him like the only thing left to do in the world was to make him come. Show him my talents, convince him I was worth it, even when it meant humiliating myself.
Stopping wasn’t an option. There was only the promise that he would stay if he thought I was good enough, but I would have to work hard for it. Harder than I’d worked for anything else in my life.
“Stop,” he breathed, and I could tell he was close.
I shook my head no and kept working, teasing him, his cock throbbing in my mouth, his veins close to exploding. I licked his balls and he shivered. He was so close I thought he’d pop if I licked him one more time.
The need to come up for air was strong, but not as strong as the urge to tell him how I felt. I let his cock fall from my mouth and looked up desperately.
“Miles,” I whispered. “Stop running.”
His hands grabbed my throat and I choked in surprise. He fucked my mouth. Carelessly. His cock filled me to the brim and I felt the tears coming, but I wouldn’t look away from his eyes.
Look at me.
You’re doing this to me.
But I’ll take it if it means getting you.
I’ll take it, Miles.
I felt a trickle of warmth down my throat and swallowed greedily when he let out a groan and let go of me, his cock slipping from my mouth with a wet pop as he stumbled backward. I coughed and sputtered as he reached for his jeans and pulled them up, his eyes desperately looking for an escape from the room. I saw the panic, recognized the fear in his gaze.
“Please,” I begged him. “Stay, calm down.”
“No.” His movements were feverish. “I need to get away. Right now.”
He moved past me, and my fingers tried to catch his but gripped at nothing instead. I crawled after him, but he was already at the front door, his steps so much longer than mine. Our eyes connected one last time, and I licked my lips, trying to soundlessly beg him to stay.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, the little words so fucking broken it killed me inside.
He closed the door firmly on the way out and I let out a wail of frustration, the sound mixing in with his booming footsteps on the stairs.