Chapter 71

Cecilia

The first touch of the vibration against my inner thigh made me gasp, my hips jerking involuntarily.

Arthur's grip tightened, keeping me exactly where he wanted me as he traced slow, deliberate patterns up toward where I was already slick and sensitive from earlier.

"Arthur, please—"

"Please what?" He was watching my face with that same intense focus, cataloging every reaction, every sharp intake of breath. "Please stop? Please continue? You're going to have to be more specific."

I couldn't form a coherent response because he'd chosen that moment to drag the toy higher, the vibrations sending shockwaves through nerve endings that were already oversensitized. My back arched off the bed, and I heard myself make a sound that was embarrassingly desperate.

"There we go," Arthur said, his voice dropping to that low register that always made my stomach flip. "That's what I wanted to hear."

He kept the toy moving—never quite where I needed it most, always just close enough to drive me insane but not close enough to actually give me relief. It was torture of the most exquisite kind, and I could feel myself climbing toward something I wasn't sure I had the energy to reach.

"Please," I gasped again, my hands fisting in the sheets. "Arthur, please, I need—"

"I know what you need." He shifted, settling between my thighs with the kind of casual dominance that made my head spin. "But I'm not quite ready to give it to you yet."

The toy finally, finally, made contact with where I was aching for it, and the sensation was so intense I actually cried out, my hips bucking against Arthur's restraining hand.

He held me down easily, his strength a reminder of exactly how much control he had in this moment—how completely I'd given myself over to him.

"That's it," he murmured, his eyes locked on my face as he adjusted the angle, the pressure, finding exactly the right spot to make me fall apart. "Let me see you come undone, baby. Let me watch."

My entire body went rigid, every muscle locked tight as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me, and through it all I could hear Arthur's voice, low and encouraging, telling me how beautiful I looked, how perfect, how good I was being for him.

When I finally came back to myself, gasping and trembling, he was still there—one hand still holding the toy against me at a gentler setting now, drawing out the aftershocks, while his other hand stroked soothing patterns on my hip.

"Fuck," I managed, my voice wrecked. "That was—"

"I'm not done yet," he said, and before I could protest, he pressed the button to increase the intensity.

"Wait, I can't—"

"You can." His voice was firm, brooking no argument. "Trust me, Ceci. You can take more."

And god help me, he was right. The second orgasm built slower but somehow more intense, my body fighting against the overstimulation even as it chased that peak again. Arthur worked me through it with patient precision, adjusting the angle and pressure based on my reactions, learning exactly what made me gasp and writhe and beg.

When I came the second time, it was quieter—a long, rolling wave that seemed to go on forever, leaving me boneless and shaking in its wake. Arthur finally turned off the toy and set it aside, his hands immediately moving to soothe and ground me, stroking along my sides and thighs while I tried to remember how to form words.

"I want to." I stroked him slowly, watching his eyes flutter closed. "But Arthur?" I waited until he looked at me. "I don't want the toy anymore. I want you. Just you."

Something shifted in his expression—that careful control cracking just enough to let me see the raw need underneath. "Are you sure? You're already—"

"I'm sure." I guided him toward me, my legs falling open in invitation. "Please. I need to feel you."

He hesitated for just a moment longer, his eyes searching my face for any sign of discomfort or uncertainty. Whatever he found there must have satisfied him because he shifted, positioning himself at my entrance with one hand while the other cradled my face.

"Tell me if it's too much," he said, his voice rough with restraint.

"It won't be." I pulled him down for a kiss. "It's you. It's never too much when it's you."

He pushed inside slowly—so slowly I wanted to scream—and despite everything that had come before, despite how thoroughly he'd already taken me apart with that toy, this felt different. More intimate. More right. The stretch and burn of him filling me completely made me gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Fuck," he breathed against my lips. "You're so tight. So perfect. How are you still so perfect?"

I couldn't answer because he'd started to move, and I heard myself making sounds I didn't recognize—desperate, needy whimpers that seemed to drive him even more crazy.

"That's it," he murmured, his pace increasing. "Let me hear you, baby. Let me know how good this feels."

"Arthur," I gasped, my legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. "Please, I need—I'm going to—"

"I know." His hand slid between us, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves with unerring accuracy. "Come for me one more time, Ceci. Let me feel you."

I didn't think I could. Didn't think I had anything left to give. But his fingers worked their magic while he drove into me with increasing urgency, and somehow—impossibly—I felt that familiar tension building again.

"Arthur, I can't—it's too much—"

"You can." His voice was strained now, his control finally fraying at the edges. "Come on, baby. Come with me."

The orgasm that hit me was different from the others—quieter but deeper, rolling through me in waves that seemed to originate from my very core. I clung to Arthur as it washed over me, feeling him follow moments later, his body going rigid as he buried himself deep.

We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us trembling and gasping, our bodies still joined as we tried to catch our breath. Finally, Arthur pulled out carefully and collapsed beside me, immediately pulling me against his chest.

"Okay," I said when I could finally speak. "Now I'm definitely done. Like, completely wrecked. Destroyed. I may never move again."

His chest shook with quiet laughter. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should." I pressed a kiss to his jaw. "That was—god, Arthur. That was incredible."

"Yeah?" His hand resumed its soothing motion through my hair. "Better than the toy?"

"So much better." I tilted my head to look at him. "The toy was just—it was functional. But this? You? There's no comparison."

Something in his expression softened, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Good," he said simply. "Because I plan on spending a very long time proving that point."

I laughed despite my exhaustion, burying my face in his chest.

I yawned, enormous and involuntary. "But I also really, really need to sleep now."

"Sleep," he murmured, his arms tightening around me. "I've got you."