Chapter Nineteen
Bethany
At first, I couldn’t bring myself to really push things with Ransom. In spite of the fact that I’d felt like a pot on the simmer all day, I was also sure that I would just be disappointed. So even though I’d jumped at the idea of upping the ante on what we’d do if we couldn’t remember the answer to a question, I couldn’t make myself go through with it for a few rounds. Ransom was obviously pretty on top of the idea--it had been his, after all--and in spite of how weirdly shy I’d felt, after two rounds I ended up kissing him on the cheek and then on the lips, for sixty seconds. Then I finally managed to stump him, and made him kiss me.
My curiosity--and my desire--started to overcome my certainty that I was going to be disappointed, and I started making my questions a little harder. But Ransom had obviously been paying better attention to the things I said than I had to his comments; I couldn’t get him.
“What high school did I go to?” When Ransom asked me that question, I stared at him. It was so out of the blue, and something that I had no way to know how to answer. First, because while I remembered what he’d told me about himself--that he’d gone to more than one high school--I didn’t know, or couldn’t remember, what his official cover was. And I didn’t know whether he meant his cover or the real information, for just a moment.
“You never told me,” I countered. “So that question doesn’t count.”
“I think you just don’t want to get another forfeit,” Ransom said, grinning at me teasingly.
“Give me a valid question, and if I can’t answer it right, you can give me the forfeit,” I said.
“What year did I graduate high school?” I looked at Ransom sharply. I should be able to figure it out--even just by his age, I should have been able to come up with the right answer. I did some quick mental math and rattled off a year that was two years after my graduation.
Ransom shook his head.
“What?” I said. “You’re only two years older than me, aren’t you?”
Ransom grinned. “Three years,” he told me. “Both James and I are three years older than you.”
I groaned. “Okay, what’s the forfeit?” I shifted on the bed we’d both ended up sitting on, feeling uncomfortable and excited all at once.
“Sit in my lap and make out with me,” Ransom said. “Seven minutes in heaven style. Since we’re harkening back to high school, that seems appropriate.”
I blushed furiously, and tried to remind myself that this was a man that had gone down on me the night before. A little bit of kissing is nothing.
I climbed onto Ransom’s lap and felt his cock start to harden, just a bit, through the thin fabric of his boxers. The sensation of it coming to life right up against me sent a little jolt of heat through me, and as I leaned in to kiss Ransom, I felt that little shiver in my nerves, that feeling I hadn’t gotten with anyone else. My lips connected with his, and I waited a few seconds before I slid my tongue against his lips.
Almost immediately, Ransom wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close and deepening the kiss. I thought I wasn’t ready for it, but I found myself responding a heartbeat later, draping my arms around his shoulders, even moaning a little bit as I felt his hands come up to cop a feel of my breasts. I hadn’t set a timer or anything, so I realized too late that I had no way to make sure that we would stop at seven minutes--and in that moment, I didn’t really want to. I rubbed against Ransom’s hardening bulge, and his fingers rolled my nipples, sending little crackling tingles of sensation seemingly straight between my legs.
I hadn’t made out with someone in so long, and when I had, it had been okay, and I’d thought I was getting turned on. But as Ransom and I started pawing at each other, touching each other everywhere, even while we kept our clothes on, I realized that what I’d done before with other guys was like a candle a few feet away from me, compared to how hot I felt after just a few minutes sitting in Ransom’s lap and feeling him get turned on right along with me.
Ransom’s hand had wandered down to my inner thighs, just barely avoiding my clit through the lacy fabric of my panties, and then he pulled back, breaking away from my lips.
“That’s seven minutes,” he said, sounding a little tense but not nearly as worked up as I felt.
I clenched my teeth and awkwardly climbed off of him. That sensation I’d been having all day, like a pot full of water simmering, was getting even worse. Inanely, my brain parroted the stupid saying: a watched pot never boils!
“I think it’s my turn,” I said, after I took a long sip of my drink.
“Go right ahead,” Ransom said. “Do your worst.”
I wanted to pay him back if only for the fact that he seemed so composed, compared to the way I felt. I racked my brain to try and think of something I would have told him in passing, but that he would probably not remember.
“What was my go-to dish before I met you?” I was almost certain I’d said something about it to him, but I didn’t think he could possibly remember.
“Sunny-side up eggs on toast,” Ransom said, irritating me with the right answer.
“You go,” I said, feeling like I had electricity coursing through my veins, like if the lights went out, I would glow in the dark from how hot I already was.
I managed to get the next few questions right out of sheer spite, but my arousal was getting the better of me. “You know, I was thinking about last night,” I said, finishing off the drink in my glass and setting it aside. I didn’t want to get drunk--I actually, shockingly, wanted to get laid.
“Oh? I’ve been thinking about that, too,” Ransom said, smiling slowly. “I’m looking forward to getting the rest of the information you promised me.”
“I mean what you did last night. I think it was a fluke,” I told him with an eye roll.
Ransom laughed out loud, putting his glass down on the other bedside table.
“You think that was a fluke, when you were trying everything you could to keep me from getting you off?” He shook his head. “Face it, babe. I am good, and you are not physically incapable of climaxing.”
“I never said it’s impossible, just that it’s never happened,” I protested.
“Well, it did last night,” Ransom said.
“I’m not sure that it really did,” I said. “And even if it did, I’m not sure it proves anything.”
“If you want me to get you off again, you can just ask,” Ransom countered.
“It’s not that I want you to, it’s that I don’t think it was valid,” I insisted.
“It was valid, and I can do it again. I can do it with more than just my fingers and mouth, too,” he said.
It was--I had to admit privately--exactly what I’d wanted to get him to say. He sat there holding my gaze, with a look on his face like he knew that I’d been trying to manipulate him but he didn’t care.
“I mean, if you want to prove it, then who am I to argue?” I crossed my arms over my chest and felt the fact that my nipples were still hard from the way Ransom had been teasing them during our short makeout session.
Almost before I knew what was happening, Ransom pulled me to him, pinning me down on the bed and covering my body with his. I could feel that his cock had gotten harder, almost straining at his boxers, and I felt a little triumphant thrill that in spite of how composed he’d been acting, he was clearly turned on, too.
I gave myself up to the kiss, pressing my body against Ransom’s, getting more and more turned on by the moment as he nibbled my bottom lip and sucked my tongue. I nipped at him, feeling breathless and needy and playful, and our hands started to wander all over each other’s bodies.
“I think we can forego the massage to start,” Ransom said, barely breaking away from my lips. “I think you’re relaxed enough already, and besides--this is one of the things I’m best at.”
I giggled, and then gasped as he dipped down to the column of my throat, nipping me sharply and licking at the pulse spot there with his tongue.
He worked his way downward and then stopped at my breasts, just like he had the night before. Even though I knew what to expect, the feeling of his mouth worshipping my nipples--one and then the other, then back again--while his fingers rolled and twisted whichever nipple wasn’t in his mouth--was like dropping a match in gunpowder. I’d been with guys who liked boobs before, and they’d done what they thought was something sexy, but it was nothing compared to the way Ransom went to town on me, sucking hard enough to almost hurt, swirling his tongue around each of the two hard little nubs as if they were the same as my clitoris. I moaned out, getting hotter and hotter with every beat of my heart, twisting and writhing underneath him.
Just when I thought I couldn’t stand any more delay, Ransom moved on, tickling my waist with his hot breath and moist lips, working downward toward my already-wet center. That had been something else that had shocked me the night before--while it wasn’t like I didn’t get wet with other guys, by the time Ransom got to licking and rubbing and fingering me, I’d been so drenched, so slick and hot, that I was surprised that there wasn’t a pool of my own fluids under me on the bed.
He tugged my panties down and tossed them aside, and I didn’t know or care where they went. Ransom breathed against my slick labia and I made a noise in my throat--something between a moan and a whimper of impatience--at the teasing sensation, fidgeting in anticipation of what he would do next.
Before I could get too impatient, Ransom parted my labia and buried his face against my soaking wet folds, more aggressively than he’d done the night before--but then, he knew my body much better, already. I cried out as I felt his tongue slide against my clit, sending a jolt through me, and as he started working me, sucking and licking, devouring me like a melting two-scoop ice cream cone, I almost lost it immediately. I gripped the sheets and then grabbed at his head and shoulders, gasping as the tip of his tongue flickered against my most sensitive spot. He would back off just when the sensation edged into too much to enjoy and then hammer against me as soon as I’d recovered. My hips twisted and bucked with a mind of their own, my body trying to get the best contact possible between my clit and Ransom’s mouth as he worshipped me, dipping down to my inner labia to lap up my fluids and teasing me for what seemed like ages.
I lost myself in what Ransom was doing, shivering and trembling in between bouts of almost battling him with my hips and thighs, twisting on the bed as his tongue danced against me and his lips sucked me into his mouth for more attention than I could bear. He pulled back slightly and I managed to get my eyes open to look down at him, to see his mischievous grin spread over his slick face. I barely saw his hand, and then I felt his finger slide into me, and my toes curled against the duvet, my fingernails dug into his shoulder, as my body wrapped around him.
He added another finger and started sliding them in and out of me slowly, rubbing the tips up against my inner walls in a steady stroke. I moaned out, closing my eyes again as Ransom continued to work me with his fingers, and then added his mouth back into the situation, sucking and licking and penetrating me. I had never in my life been as aware of my vagina as I was under Ransom’s patient, knowing attentions--everything he did tightened up that little cord in the depths of my hips, until I thought I couldn’t stand it if I didn’t come.
Ransom teased me for what felt like an eternity, building me up until it was almost unbearable for me to not climax and then slowing down just enough for me to cool off a bit, until I wanted to scream at him, beg him to just finish me off. I knew--in the small part of my brain still capable of thinking--that he was doing this as a kind of playful revenge, that he was showing me it was no fluke, what he’d done to me the night before. He really just was that good.
But I couldn’t hold onto the thought, because I was so on fire, so alive in every nerve from Ransom’s attacks on my clitoris that I could only think for a few seconds at most at a time--and most of my thoughts centered on how much I wanted to hit that climax, how much I wanted it to go on forever. I heard myself crying out again and again, moaning, words leaving my lips: “Yes! Fuck--god! Please…” until the words lost all meaning.
Just when I thought that I would, literally, die if I couldn’t finish, Ransom’s fingers started rubbing against that one spot deep inside of me steadily and firmly, even as he sucked my clit between his lips and fluttered the tip of his tongue against it so fast I couldn’t even follow the movement itself. I screamed when it felt like something had broken inside of me, like the tension deep down between my hips had not just broken but nearly exploded. Ransom kept up his attacks, speeding up just a bit, wrenching another cry out of my throat, and then he slowed down, steadying, and wave after wave of pleasure washed through me until I couldn’t be sure if what I was experiencing was wonderful or terrible.
Ransom slowed down bit by bit, and then, as the last waves of sensation ebbed away, he pulled back, giving my clit the briefest, gentlest lick with his tongue and sliding his soaking wet, slick fingers out of me one centimeter at a time. I sagged against the bed, not sure I even had bones in my body anymore, panting and gasping for breath. Little impulses of sensation danced up and down all the nerves in my body, making me shake, making it seem impossible to do anything but lie there and hope that the unbearable wonderfulness of it would stop eventually.
To my surprise, Ransom pulled me into his arms, cradling me against him, and I absently noticed he was murmuring something to me. It took me a moment longer to realize that it was a low-voice reassurance. “It’s okay...you’re okay…”
“I’m better than okay,” I said, as soon as I could find my voice.
“You have to admit you totally came that time,” he said, leaning in and kissing me lightly on the forehead. “You can’t even deny it or say maybe you did or maybe you didn’t.”
I chuckled, and my chuckle turned into a giggle, and the giggle turned into something that was close to a hysterical fit of giggling, and I had no idea why--what he’d said was amusing, but not that funny.
I just felt so good, on a physical level I hadn’t experienced before--even the night before, while I’d felt amazing from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes, it hadn’t been as good as what I felt in Ransom’s arms, after he unequivocally got me to orgasm. I was still shaking like a leaf, and Ransom stroked my arms and waist, keeping away from my breasts and even my hips, somewhere between a caress and a massage. It was so soothing, I almost liked it more than the sex itself, even after the totally unprecedented orgasm. My giggles finally eased and I was able to breathe again.
“Okay, that was intense,” I said, taking a long, deep breath. “I have never done that before in my life.”
“Yeah, you came,” he told me. “It’s the endorphin surge. I’ve gotten maybe one or two women to that level before--but I think with you it’s just sheer, physical relief.”
I rolled my eyes and reached down along his body absently. My fingertips found the hot, hard bulge at the front of his boxers, straining at the fabric, and I had the thrill of hearing Ransom moan softly in reaction.
“I think I remember you saying something about how you could make me come with more than just your hands and mouth,” I said, meeting Ransom’s gaze. “Besides, you should get some fun out of this too--especially after what you just did to me.”
Ransom grinned and kissed me, and once more I tasted myself on his tongue, on his lips. “You’re not ready for more yet,” he told me confidently.
“How do you know?” I was almost offended. I twisted around in his arms and sat up, looking down at him.
“I know because of this,” Ransom said.
Before I knew what he was about to do, he reached out and slipped his hand between my legs, and touched my clit. I gasped, shuddering; it didn’t actually feel good, or bad, exactly--it felt too intense, too sensitive. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes.”
“Well, we could work toward me being ready,” I suggested. I had come for the first--or maybe second--time in my life just a few minutes before, and I definitely wanted more. The thought flitted through my head that within a few days, Ransom would just be a guy I’d met and hired to be my boyfriend, and I probably would not find anyone like him back in my adopted home city, but I pushed it out of my mind.
“Come here, then,” Ransom said, reaching out and pulling me down on top of him.
He kissed me hungrily, letting his hands wander over my body in lazy caresses, and the heat built up between us again, the same way it had the first time around. I was shocked at how quickly I got turned on, and how intensely I felt it, my body heating up and that tension coming back into the spot deep down between my hips. Somewhere along the line, Ransom’s boxers came off, and all I wanted to do was touch his cock and taste it, feel it against my lips and tongue and even inside of me, large as it was.
I got my wish. Ransom let me meander down along his torso, to his hips, and didn’t stop me when I took him in my mouth. The taste of him spread across my tongue and somehow turned me on even more than it had the night before as I started sucking and licking. I almost had to pull back as a fit of giggles rose up in my throat in reaction to a random thought. Just like a cherry lollipop, but different flavor.
I could feel the tension mounting in his body, the same way that Ransom had known what was going on with me, but when I was sure I had him on the edge, he pushed me away--gently--and fell back against the pillows, panting for breath. “I don’t want to be done yet,” he explained in response to my hurt, quizzical look.
“You don’t?” When he’d been going at me, I couldn’t wait to get off.
“I want to wait until I get you off with this,” Ransom said with a little grin, stroking himself slowly. “And I think you’re ready.”
“I think I am, too,” I said. It was like someone had found some buried guitar string in my belly and plucked it, sending little vibrations all through my body. Just the thought of feeling him inside of me was enough to make me even wetter, even hotter.
“Get on, then,” Ransom suggested, giving my hip a playful smack. “We’ll start with you on top and then…” He grinned, and I caught the mischief in his eyes.
“I’ve never gotten off from being on top,” I told him matter-of-factly.
“That’s just how we’re starting. I can hold back better, and you can take me as fast or slow as you want.”
I nodded and straddled his hips, my thighs trembling as I felt him brush against me.
I took a deep breath and guided the tip of him, still slick with my saliva and his fluids, against my labia. I sank down slowly--achingly slowly--and groaned as I felt the thickness of him press against me, and then felt my body give way to him. Ransom reached out and steadied my hips, pushing with firm, gentle pressure as I took him inch by inch.
By the time he was fully inside of me, I almost felt as if I’d been skewered--but in the best possible way. I sat absolutely still on top of him, breathing, just feeling his thick heat buried deep inside of me, pressing right up against my pleasure center. It was amazing--there was no other word for it. I felt like I’d been stretched, so full and filled so deep, but it didn’t hurt at all. It felt perfect.
I started moving on top of him, rising and falling slowly, finding my rhythm, and as soon as I hit my stride--so to speak--Ransom started thrusting up into me, his hands moving from my hips to my breasts and back again, teasing and caressing me, pushing and pulling. I leaned forward, steadying myself with my hands over his shoulders, and the change in angle meant that every movement rubbed against my clit. “That’s it...good girl,” Ransom said, moaning.
Just as I was starting to get frustrated--perpetually on the edge of climax but not quite able to go fast enough to get over the edge, just like with the guys I’d been with before Ransom--he tumbled me over, somehow managing to stay inside of me all the while as he got me onto my back and pinned me there.
I thought he was going to pound into me, but instead he started slow, sliding out almost all the way and then pushing into me in a steady movement, filling me up inch by inch again. He kissed me hungrily and we started moving together, finding the perfect rhythm, like a tidal flow between our bodies. I clung to Ransom as if he was a life raft, twisting my hips and pushing them down to take him harder, faster, deeper.
He reached down between our bodies and started stroking my clit in time with his thrusts, and every muscle in my body clamped down all at once. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders, and Ransom picked up the speed of his thrusts, steadily rubbing up against my g-spot even as his fingertips worked my clit.
Once again, I felt that tension hit a point that was almost unbearable, and then all at once it broke, exploding from somewhere deep inside of me, and I buried my face against his shoulder as I came, harder than even the time before, so hard that it almost scared me. Waves of pleasure didn’t just wash through me--they crashed against my brain, like one tsunami after another, until I was almost afraid that I would never stop coming.
Ransom managed to hold back, managed to keep going, and just as I felt the pleasure starting to slow down, starting to get less intense, I felt him shudder against me, heard him moan out long and low, and then he started really pounding into me.
The hot, sticky-slick gush of him deep inside of me sent me into another orgasm--or maybe just a deepening of the one I’d already been having--and we both kept moving until neither of us could budge an inch anymore. We collapsed to the bed, panting and gasping, tangled up in each other, and I felt that same feeling again--the electric, tingling caress throughout every nerve in my body, almost too much to bear, but so nice that I couldn’t quite wish it would stop.
I giggled, shaking my head and making myself breathless all over again, even as Ransom kissed me lazily and held me tight. I felt the way that I thought religious converts felt when they had their moment of revelation. I felt like someone who’d suddenly gained the ability to see colors they’d never known existed.
I finally calmed down a little bit, and Ransom rolled off of me, smiling. “Not bad, huh?”
“No, not bad at all,” I agreed, feeling warm and loose and utterly content.
“I’m going to get a shower,” he told me. “If you want to join me…”
I shook my head. I had a soreness between my hips, an ache between my legs--but it was a pleasant ache, a nice kind of pain that I hoped would linger for a little while, a reminder of what had happened.
“I don’t even have the legs to get up right now,” I told him. “Have fun.”
“I always do,” Ransom said. He gave me a quick, impulsive kiss on the forehead, and as he went into the bathroom, I thought--absently, and then made myself forget--that there was nothing for us after the weekend. We’d part ways, and while it was good to know that I could orgasm, I didn’t think it was likely I’d get another one with someone else. I pushed the thought out of my head and curled up on the bed, hanging in the golden pleasure that seemed to seep through my veins with every beat of my heart.