The Black Room: Door Four Read online

  “Jesus Christ,” I hear someone say. “I’m about to embarrass myself in my pants.”

  “You ain’t the only one, buddy,” comes a response.

  The ache explodes inside me, my second orgasm in less than five minutes, and I’m quaking through it, shrieking, lashing Arelia with my tongue, kissing her cunt as if I’m French kissing her mouth, and she’s screaming into my pussy with equal fervor, and I hear male hisses of frustration.

  And then Arelia is moving off me, and two sets of hands are righting the chair, and she’s in front of me again, reaching up with a palm to wipe my lips, cheeks, and chin clean of her juices.

  I’m wiped out now, limp in the bonds, exhausted, delirious. Arelia takes her seat, accepts a new hand of cards, and takes a slug of whiskey. She glances around at each of the men in turn, a pleased little smile on her lips.

  “Shall we play, gentlemen?”

  More surreptitious—and not-so-surreptitious—adjustments of cocks behind zippers, and then the play resumes, players tossing in chips and tossing in cards, accepting new ones, sorting hands, glancing at each other.

  I float and drift through the next hand, eyes closed, relishing the welter of fading sensations.

  And then I hear the grunts and curses of the losers, and I open my eyes.

  It’s the giant, all six and a half feet of him, miles of muscle and an impossible amount of sex appeal. Rugged, hyper-masculine, every curve is hard, every angle is hewn from granite. But his eyes are intelligent and playful and wise—and wild with lust.

  “Think you can come again for me, honey?” He murmurs to me, placing a knee between my thighs.

  “Not quickly,” I admit.

  He grins. “Fine by me.”

  He leans in and, rather than going straight for my pussy, he takes my nipple in his mouth, circles it with his tongue, nips it with his teeth. He does the same on the other side. Then he adds his hands, one huge rough paw cupping my breast, rubbing his thumb across my nipple, pinching it, twisting and tweaking until I’m short of breath and my core begins to throb again, impossibly. Lips and fingers, all over my tits, until I can’t keep track, until all sensation narrows down to his mouth and his hands on my breasts, until I feel as I could perhaps come just from this incredible stimulation to my breasts.

  But then he fits a finger inside me, sliding it in ever so slowly. I’m wet, so his finger glides in easily, and even his finger is thick enough to make me tremble and clench.

  “Oh, baby, your pussy is so tight,” he groans, leaning in. “So fucking tight. Squeeze me, baby, let me feel you clamp down around my fingers.”

  I clench, involuntarily at first, because now he’s feathering light quick fast licks against my clit then sliding two thick hard fingers in and out of me, and I can’t help clamping down.

  “Yeah, honey, just like that. Now come for me. You’re right there already aren’t you?” He curls his fingers and nips at my clit, and indeed I’m there, riding the edge, drawing it out. “I can feel you getting ready to come. You’re close, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, god—yes, I’m close.”

  “Are you going to squirt on my face?” He licks my clit wildly, then, and stops right as I’m about to come. “Gonna make a mess all over me?”

  “Shut up and eat me,” I gasp.

  “Oh…you’ve got a mouth on you, don’t you?”

  “Make me come and I show you what my mouth can do.”

  He doesn’t have to try hard, then. I’m so close, so turned on by his skilled fingers and by his hard body and dirty words that all it takes another fat swipe of his tongue and a curling of his fingers inside me, and I’m coming apart around him, not squirting like I did last night, but gushing onto his mouth, coming so hard I see stars, so hard I the clenching of my cunt around his fingers is a crushing force.

  He licks me through my orgasm, slow swipes of his tongue, too slow, too deliberate, too much and yet not enough all at the same time, and it makes me wild, makes me thrash against the bonds.

  Instead of going limp, this time, I’m fired up, eager to taste him, feel him. “Untie me,” I rasp. “Let me touch you.”

  “Afraid I can’t do that,” he says. Then stands up, his zipper straining to contain him. “But I can do this.”

  He unfastens his trousers and tugs them down around his hips. His cock springs free.

  Holy shit.

  I think I’m glad all I can use on him is my mouth, because that cock is an honest-to-god monster. Roughly the same width and length as my entire forearm.

  He steps close, and his broad, velvety glans brushes my cheek.

  I gaze up at him, a smile on my lips. “Oh my. However shall I show my appreciation?”

  He grips himself, wrapping his hand around his girth at the base. Paints my lips with droplets of pre-cum. “Open your mouth and I’ll show you.”

  “No hands,” I say, flicking my tongue to tease the tip, wiggling my tongue against his frenulum, that tight little knot of skin on the underside of his cock beneath the glans and above his circumcision groove. “If I can’t use my hands on you, then neither can you.”

  He grins. “Deal.” A thrust of his hips has him nudging against my lips. “Now shut up and suck my cock.” The smirk on his mouth makes it a joke, or a tease, and in truth, something about his dirty way with words stirs the fire inside me.

  I open my mouth as wide as it can go, and take him into my mouth.

  I barely fit the head past my teeth.

  Dear god.

  He grunts as I suction around the head, and his hips flutter. “Is that all you can take?”

  I don’t answer, at least not with words. I show him, instead. Stretch my lips, my jaw. Take more of him, and more, and more, and when he’s at the back of my mouth and I’m relaxing my throat to take more, there’s still so much of him left to take. It’s impossible, god, so impossible. I have enough freedom with my upper body to lean forward, and I do. I take him into my throat, until my eyes water and I’m gagging on his cock, and he’s hissing through his teeth and his fists are flexing at his sides, hips quivering.

  “Jesus Christ, girl,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean take that much.”

  To prove a point—which point, I’m not sure—I do it again. I back away, spit him out of my mouth and lick the tip, once, quick, a tiny flutter of my tongue over the hole, wiggling the tip of my tongue in it, and then draw a deep breath and angle forward and breathe through my nose and keep my eyes up on his, and slide his massive shaft between my tingling lips and down my throat, fluttering my tongue along his length as he glides in and in and in.

  He hisses again. “So fucking tight…”

  Then I back away again, not all the way, just enough that the soft, springy, fat head is left in my mouth, and god, that’s a massive mouthful all by itself. I focus on that, now, bob forward on it, swirl my tongue around the head as I back away. I take him fast, then, sucking and fluttering my tongue and bobbing as fast as I can, non-stop, faster and faster, until he’s grunting and his hips are pivoting, and he’s cursing under his breath, fists clenched.

  He has to grip the back of the chair, then, as I stop entirely, back away so he flops free of my mouth, and now he’s thrusting helplessly, seeking my mouth, bobbing for me, and I tease him, moving so his thrusts miss my mouth.

  “Fuck, woman,” he snarls. “Quit teasing me.”

  The moment he speaks, I deep throat him, hard and fast, and now I feel his balls swinging and slapping my chin.

  “Oh…fuck yeah, just like that. Take it all, babe. Swallow my cock.”

  So I do. Again and again, I back away until I’m kissing the very tip, and then take him as deep as I can, setting the rhythm as I fuck him with my mouth.

  Until he starts thrusting, and then I change it again.

  I let my head thump against the chair back, spitting him out. “If I let you fuck my mouth, will you be gentle?”

  He reaches down, wraps my long blond hair around his fist until his hand is co
iled tight against the base of my head, gripping tightly but not painfully. The playful smolder is gone, now. His puppy dog brown eyes are narrowed, fierce, brows drawn, jaw clenched.

  “Probably not,” he growls. “But I won’t hurt you.”

  Not the answer I expected, but one that has me trembling nonetheless.

  “Open that sexy mouth of yours for me, Hannah.”

  I part my lips, not quite all the way—intentionally. He grips himself at the root, gives his monster cock a single rough tug, and then touches the tip to my lips, gives his hips the tiniest, most subtle of thrusts. Just enough to push the glans past my lips, and then he’s pulling away, holding my head in place. Taking control, now. With a shudder of exertion, raw self-control I’m realizing, he slides in again, ever so slowly. Backs away. Slides in, thrusting with his hips and holding me in place with his firm grip on my hair.

  He’s close, I realize. Holding back. Tensed, muscles locked up, brow beading with sweat. Tremoring, pulsing that long thick cock into my mouth, an inch at a time, with exquisite control.

  “Fuck,” he snarls, again. “I can’t hold out much longer.”

  “Mmmmm,” I hum on him, and then he thrusts his hips forward and pulls me onto him by my hair. “Mmmm-hmmmm,” I encourage, then.

  “Like that?” His voice is a low murmur, meant only for me.

  I’ve forgotten there’s anyone else here.

  I don’t care that there’s an audience.

  Or that I’m tied up.

  In this moment, all I really care about is him coming. Feeling him lose control. I may be powerless, helpless, even bound to a chair, but I’m still in control of his orgasm.

  To prove that point, I meet his eyes and hum again, a long breathy erotic sound. As if his cock thrusting into my mouth is the hottest thing I’ve ever felt. And in that moment? It’s not entirely an act.

  He grunts, and his fist jerks, and my throat is filled with his cock, but I’m expecting it, and my hummed whimper around his cock is cut off, turned into a gag as he ruts into my mouth. Out again, and now he’s shaking all over, denying himself the climax.

  “You ready for it, babe?”

  I lean forward, seeking his cock with my lips. “Give it to me. Come for me.”

  He grunts, a snarling, primal sound, and shoves his thickness between my lips. I moan again in encouragement—mmmm-hmm…mmmmmm…mmmmmm—as he thrusts, and then I can’t make any noises because he’s lost to it, falling over into orgasm, and I feel his cock tense and throb and thicken, growing impossibly larger in my mouth, and he fucks so deep his balls slap my chin again and he backs away, using his grip on my hair to tilt my face up and flexing his hips, jerking me toward him, losing all control now. Even in utter abandonment, he doesn’t thrust fully. He gives me hard half-thrusts, enough to fill my mouth and nudge my throat, and he’s jerking me onto him now, all pretense of thrusting abandoned, shoving me onto his hot hard throbbing cock over and over.

  And then, with a shout, he comes.

  And holy shit, I cannot take it all, can’t swallow it all. He overflows my mouth, fills me with cum in spurt after spurt of hot salty tangy seed. I swallow what I can, but it’s too much, and he’s still coming, still shooting his cum down my throat even as it dribbles out of the corners of my mouth and down my chin, and then he pulls away and slides his fist on his cock, aiming one last dripping spurt onto my tits. I’m gasping for breath, swallowing another mouthful, and then letting the rest spill out of my mouth and down past my chin to my throat, dripping down to join the thick, milk-white pool on the slope of my breasts.

  He shakes his head, staggering backward. “You…you are fucking incredible.” He rubs his thumb across my chin, wiping away his own cum. “Thank you.”

  “You made me come first. All over your face, just like you wanted.”

  He tucks his softening cock back into his trousers, zips, rearranges his shirt and suit coat, and steps off the dais, takes his seat, but not without several backward glances at me.

  There are a plethora of jealous looks shot at him as he settles into his seat and accepts his cards for the next hand.

  Killian’s eyes burn on mine, but not with jealousy. With some kind of wild, voyeuristic pleasure. From this angle, I can see his crotch, and I can see that he’s bulging out of his pants.

  He pounds the hourglass on the table for attention. “Winner of the next hand unties her hands. Make her come again, and she’s got the use of her hands.”

  Charlie, the blond man who won my panties last night, has a hungry, devilish grin on his face.

  My heart palpitates then, because I just know he’s going to win this hand, I can only imagine what he’ll do to me, how he’ll make me feel, and what I’ll do to reciprocate.

  …

  The next hand is quick—Charlie wins, and wastes no time taking his place in front of me on the dais.

  “Been anticipating this since last night,” he says to me. “Pictured what I might get you to do you if I got the opportunity.”

  “Oh yeah?” I try to sound casual, even though I’m trembling with eager anticipation. “What’d you come up with?”

  “More than you could possibly imagine. More than we could do right now. I’d need a week to accomplish everything.”

  Wasting no more time, he kneels down and winks at me before beginning to lick my inner thigh. He runs his hands up my thighs to my hips, then skates them back around to my cunt, pulls my labia apart and goes for my clit with a fanatic fervor, his tongue taking me to the brink within seconds, then stopping. He’s teasing me, flicking licks at my clit, teasing little flutters that have me trying to flex my hips, but they’re bound and I can’t. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t give me what I want and what I need. He builds my desperation one teasing little flick at a time until I’m gasping with frustrated need, until my belly is heaving with my efforts to flex against the bonds, and then, finally, he suckles me into his mouth and flicks with his tongue and sucks and sucks and sucks and flicks. I whine and whimper and whisper “yes, yes yesyesyes—” as bliss builds and expands and contorts—

  And then, when I’m literally a single eye blink from coming, he stops, and I growl in frustration.

  He spits on the fingers of his left hand, keeping his eyes on mine. I’m writhing in the restraints, desperate for his tongue to finish me. He leans in, licks me twice, slow fat licks, and just enough to build the orgasm back up to near breaking, and then he stops again. He places his saliva-wet fingers to my taint and smears the slick wetness over the knotted rosebud muscle of my asshole. Then he presses his thick middle fingertip against me, smearing his saliva as lubrication. I gasp when he slides his finger into my ass, filling me. My desperation ramps up, now. The finger in my asshole takes everything to new levels, and ratchets up the hot unsteady pressure of my burgeoning climax into something unexpected, something wild, something dark. He flicks his tongue against my clit, and the pressure becomes volcanic, and I can’t hold still, can’t keep quiet. I try to move, to thrust, needing him to give me more.

  And oh god ohgodohgod does he give me more.

  He gives me a sudden onslaught of more. He lashes his tongue against my clit, a sudden frenzy of stiff-tongue side-to-side licks, and he moves his finger in and out of my asshole, starting slow and then faster and faster, and then when everything already building begins to break, he slows it all, slides that dirty beautiful finger so it’s buried as deep as it’ll go, and then he brings his other hand up to my cunt and works two fingers into my clamping, spasming channel, and now—shit, shit, oh god…I’m so full. Wrenched apart, utterly used in every way by him. Tongue to my clit, two fingers in my cunt and one in my asshole, all plunging and ravaging, going from stillness to rampaging wildness in an instant, thrashing me into a furious, volatile state—

  And then he stops again, as I’m once again a mere breath away from coming.

  “Fuck you,” I snarl, after I’ve stopped screaming in anger and frustration. “Finish me.”


  He pulls his two fingers out of my pussy, touches them to his lips, licking my juices away. Sidles that one finger left inside me in and out, in and out, building my orgasm back up just with that motion. He uses his free hand to untie my wrists, never ceasing that in-and-out slide of his finger, harder and faster now, only that stimulation. Closer. Closer. My hands are free, and I use them to catch at my hair and pull it, growling low in my throat as tectonic power builds inside me, just from that finger, in and out, in and out. He slides it out, pauses, leans close, spits, works his saliva onto his finger and my skin, and that extra lubrication is all I need, all he needs to be able to fuck my asshole with that finger for real, now, and oh—shit—he’s added a second, stretching me even farther, so it’s almost painful, but the spasm-inducing ecstasy building inside me turns pain to added pleasure, more and more…

  He watches me, working that finger in and out, going faster as the climax builds, taking his time, faster, and faster, until I’m gyrating against the bonds and ready to beg him for his mouth on my clit, for his fingers inside me. God, his cock—I want his cock inside me.

  But somehow, I know that won’t happen.

  My eyes flick open, and go to Killian, who’s watching raptly, idly stroking himself over his trousers. He will be the only one to fuck me with his cock.

  And suddenly I realize…

  He’ll do it in front of everyone. With an audience. Getting me worked up, making me flush with orgasm after orgasm, letting his friends eat me out and mouth-fuck me until we’re all wild…and when it’s all built up to his satisfaction, he’ll take me.

  How and when, I don’t know. And I don’t want to know.

  I want the surprise.

  Charlie’s fingers are ramming in and out of my asshole hard and fast now, and I’m letting loose with a hoarse, breathy scream as the climax starts to shatter. It’s a cracking, at first, glimpses of white heat searing through me, tremors seizing me, my body contracting, my cunt clamping spastically.