The Last Love Song (A BWWM BDSM Romance) (12 page)

He stuffed something into my mouth. My eyes shot wide open - he was muffling me with my own panties! I whined, begging him with my eyes,
don't stop!

He chuckled at my desperation. "All I asked for was silence." He withdrew and thrust his fingers back inside me once, hard. I whined around the mouthful of material. "Bad girl." He withdrew his fingers and held them still right at my entrance. I longed to push myself against them, to take them back inside, but I knew he would be displeased by that. He was calling the shots, now. "Count backwards from ten."

How?
I started counting, "Ten, nine, eight," and he seemed satisfied enough at the muffled "Mmmfs" that emerged.

On "one," he thrust again. And again, I couldn't stop the dampened cries. It just felt so good, and his teasing me made it even more intense.

"No," he said, withdrawing once more. "From twelve this time."

Holy shit
. How long could this go on? I counted down, and my whole body shivered with anticipation as I approached that number one again, preparing for his fingers.
Keep silent, you can do it
.

"One." This time, when he plunged his fingers deep, I kept quiet. I inhaled sharply enough to hurt my throat, but I made no sound.

He smiled, and I felt way too pleased with myself. "Think you can keep it up?" he asked. I nodded. "All right. I'm going to make you come now and I'm not going to stop, but I want you to try to keep quiet for as long as you can." I nodded again, harder this time.

His assault was like a tornado - sudden and destructive. No more teasing, no more buildup. His lips latched around my clit and he battered it relentless with his tongue, humming all the while, creating vibrations that I could feel down to my toes, all while thrusting his fingers like he was trying to drive me through the back of the chair and the wall behind it.

I bit down on my panties and held my breath. I released my death grip on the arms of the chair and dug my fingers into his hair, holding him against me. He didn't seem to notice or care, he never slowed for a second.
Quiet, quiet
, I urged myself as I ground against his face.

But there was no holding it back. The rising tide of pleasure in my core spilled over all at once, and I wailed into the material as ecstatic waves of bliss flooded my quivering body. My mind shut down and I disappeared into some warm oblivion.

I'd never come so hard in my life. Hell, I rarely came at all when another person was involved, not like that. Normally I had to make it happen myself.

Vaughn was rising to his feet when my eyes finally fell open. He peeled the panties out of my mouth and dropped them next to my purse. I drew in big gulps of air, head still spinning with disbelief. "What the hell did you just do to me?" I asked.

He just smirked.
Cocky bastard
.

I swallowed and straightened up in my seat. "That was... a lot," I said. My heart was still racing and showed no sign of slowing.

"Come here." On weak and shaking legs, I stood, and he pulled me into his arms. I leaned into him, savoring his warmth. And also because I didn't trust my knees to hold me up.

His hands rubbing my back, soothing my jangled nerves. "I'm going to give you another assignment," he said.

The prospect made me grin - but I said instead, "When will I see you again?"

"I'll be joining you on the road for that award show."

"Oh." It wasn't too far away, but part of me was hoping that his answer would be, "Tomorrow." "What's the assignment?"

"I sent you something. A gift."

"Oh?"

"I want you to put it inside you every night between now and when I see you again. Work it in deep. And don't come."

I shivered. "Mind if I ask, what the fuck?"

I felt rather than heard his chuckle. "I don't want you to come again without me," he said. "And I want you to be ready for this." He pressed his hips against mine - his erection rubbed against my lower belly, incredibly hard and impossibly big. I remembered it - I remembered it well. I'd dreamed about the damn thing.

I started to reach down between us to grip him, but he swatted my hand away. "Be good and you'll get it."

Satiated as I was, his words caused another wave of warmth between my legs. I wanted it, all right. Enough to go along with his crazy assignment. "Okay," I said. "I'll do just what you said."

"Good girl."

A dildo. My sexy beast of a bodyguard sent me a dildo. And of
course
the fucking thing was pink.

It arrived at my apartment the very next day after a terrible rehearsal. One of my dancers had revealed that she was leaving - and that she was joining one of Camden's artists instead.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I'd shrieked at her. My famous, out-of-control temper made its first appearance in a long time. "He's using you to get to me, you just wait. As soon as this show's over you'll be out on your ass and no one, no one, will fucking hire you ever again!"

She'd stared at me with an infuriating composure, and when I finally stopped to take a breath, all she said was, "Not everything is all about you, Zenaida." And then she left.

So when I got home later that evening, exhausted and still shaking with anger, I didn't know whether to laugh or to scream at the obscene pink dick that had been delivered to my front door.

I let it sit upright on my nightstand while I stretched out in bed that night, watching the news and eyeing the thing as if it was going to jump out and bite me.

"He's fucking crazy," I muttered to myself. I mean sure, I wasn't a complete stranger to sex toys. I had a favorite vibrator. I'd even received a couple as gifts, odd as that sounds, usually from companies themselves looking for a mention. And there was a thinner, smaller, smoother, less pink dildo hanging out in the back of my closet somewhere, collecting cobwebs.

This
thing was a graphic monster, complete with ridges and veins. I never would have purchased such a thing on my own, and if anyone had tried to gift me one, I would have sent it right back with a nasty note questioning their upbringing.

But, coming from Vaughn...

Thinking about him picking this thing out and sending it to me was kind of a turn on. Touching myself while thinking about him was an even bigger turn-on, and the hornier I got, the less intimidating the thing looked.

Well, I did promise
. I grabbed it from the nightstand. The damn thing was heavy, too. I turned it over in my hands, considering the best way to get started. His words echoed in my head.
Put it inside you. Work it in deep
.

I tried that night. I can honestly say that I tried. On my back, on my hands and knees, on my stomach... the thing was too big. I worked the head of it between my slippery lips and inside my channel but I just couldn't push it very far. It stretched and it burned and I gave up after each attempt, sore, red with frustration. Finally I collapsed and dozed off, unable to continue.

The second night, though, after some careful manipulating and a little bit of lube, I was able to swallow it up inside my body. I could only stare down at it in awe at first - or at least, at the very base of it protruding from between my legs.

Not getting myself off was harder that night. As the pain faded and it started to feel good, I was tempted to thrust it, just a little. Big mistake when I did - it filled me unlike any fingers or any cocks had in the past, ever. It curved right against my g-spot and rubbed me just the right way.
This thing is fucking magic
. If my pussy was a person, it would have been weeping with regret when I put the thing away for the night.

By the fourth night I was feeling different all around, and not just unbearably horny, though that was becoming an issue. I also felt less anxious. It couldn't be as simple as the act of stuffing a big ol' dildo inside my body, there had to be more to it than that. Something else was happening.

By the fifth night, I realized exactly what he'd done. I was coming home excited to try out the big pink dick again. I was shedding the day away as I shed my clothes and got into bed with it. I wasn't sitting up worrying, or fretting, or seething with anger at whatever obstacles I might have faced at rehearsal or elsewhere.

I was only thinking about Vaughn. Every single night.

"This is it, people!" Pauline clapped at my line of dancers. Then she reminded the band, "This is it, guys." She clasped a hand on my shoulder. "You've got this, Zenaida." She tugged here and there on my dress - an artfully torn-up gold sequined little number that showed off my legs all the way up. Paired with high-heeled combat boots, I was supposed to look like a post-apocalyptic diva.

I swatted her hand away as she patted at my hair. Sure, it looked nice and neatly straightened, but that shit had taken hours. No one but my stylist was allowed to touch it until the night was ended.

"Don't you have a seat?" I asked. She really didn't need to be backstage for this, and she was smearing the glitter off of my arm. I knew she was only there because she was worried about me, because she knew I was worried about Camden, but the woman was going to drive me crazy! I was wound up enough without her fluttering around like a manic hummingbird.

"Yes, yes, I'll get to my seat, I just want to make sure everything is ready to go!" She ended the sentence with a flourish of her hand.

"You're losing your shit, Pauline, and you're fucking up my vibe. Go sit down!"

She didn't take it personally. She'd known me too long for that. With an exaggerated thumbs up, she rushed off and out of my hair.
Finally
.

The Relevance Awards had gotten off to a rocky start when the stream was momentarily cut off a minute after it started, and everyone had been on edge ever since.

But not me. Aside from being annoyed at Pauline's incessant yammering, I was as ready as I could be. I caught Vaughn's eye where he waited patiently further backstage, keeping watch for anyone who might try to approach me. He looked so calm. So solid.

I could be calm and solid, too. No one from Camden's camp would bother me - not with Vaughn there.

And that's what I kept reminding myself of as I waited for my signal to stride out onstage, where millions of people would be watching it happen live. I was a born performer, and this didn't scare me. In that moment, walking out onto that dark stage with him at my back, nothing could scare me.

"You know whose voice this is."

The audience went wild with the first note. Our whole performance was spectacular if I could say so myself. And it wouldn't conceited to say so, it took a whole team to put it together. The song was mine, but the rest was a collaboration, and I'd surrounded myself with the best people I could find.