Temptation at randys, p.11
Temptation at Randy's, page 11
Claude wasn’t the first person I’d talked through something during sex. It felt like it, though. They were the first person who listened raptly, as if they had to absorb every piece of information. They weren’t missing a thing.
“You look so hot,” I breathed out the words, losing some of the self-awareness that sometimes kept me from saying them out loud.
Claude chuckled. “I do, huh?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed down the knot building in my throat. “I wanna fuck myself for you so bad. I want you so bad, too, and….”
I groaned.
My hand found the head of my clit, my fingers wrapping around it. I didn’t want to make myself come this fast, but the pressure kept building, and I didn’t know what else to do when every cell in my body was screaming for touch, and pleasure, and…. More.
I needed more.
“You can have me.” Claude’s words came out slow, calculated.
It made me frown, but it was hazy enough that I didn’t do or say anything. One second and some rustling later, their body was covering mine, not touching but almost. It sent a shiver down my spine. I struggled to meet their gaze, but I did regardless.
Their tongue teased my lips when I didn’t lean forward to meet them right away. I moaned. I didn’t have the words to call them off for being too impatient. Non-verbal sounds would have to do.
Claude just chuckled. But then they were kissing me, so it was okay.
The hand that wasn’t playing with my clit moved to their hip. I didn’t use pressure, but I still held them there. Claude sighed into the kiss, their lips ghosting over my mouth before darting down my jaw.
My neck.
My bare shoulders.
“I think there’s a bit of a pleasure Domm in me,” they murmured.
The term sounded mildly familiar. I didn’t care enough to ask at this very moment. Pleasure anything sounded good to me.
“Good,” I breathed.
“You’d think so, huh.”
I didn’t care that they were clearly teasing. I cared about the way they were quick to drive me wild with their mouth. That was about it.
“Didn’t you want me to…?”
“Right, because I’m the one who begged to get off track.” Claude smacked their lips together. “How do you feel about nipple clamps?”
I squirmed. “What’s that have to do with anything?”
Claude leaned back before they spoke. They were playing with me, I knew, but I’d never been good at squashing my reactions.
“I saw a few pairs in the drawers, and it just came to mind because I was face to face with your tits,” they said easily.
I blinked. Sure, that was the most natural thing to tell someone.
“I could try, I guess.” I imagined there was pain involved, which made me shrink back, but I did like some roughness when I played with my nipples. “It’s a maybe.”
“I can work with that.”
Silence settled between us after that, only the sound of my hands against my skin and our breaths filling the room. There was eroticism in the talking, but there was another kind of erotic charge in the air when there were no words.
There were no distractions. Just skin, and sweat, and the musky scent of sex.
My finger trailed down easily to find the spot my skin opened up after tucking. It wasn’t visible, mostly a feeling. I remembered the first time I’d tried it after reading a fanzine about it. I’d never felt clumsier in my life. Now, fucking myself this way came as natural as breathing.
My body stiffened for a second when the tip of my finger breached in. I paused, rejoicing in it, before I let out a deep breath. My eyelids partly shut, I felt as my body sank into the sheets before I kept going. I liked it more when I was slow, when I could savor every nerve sensation as I rubbed the inner walls gently.
“Fuck.” Claude broke the silence. It didn’t matter. “You’re getting so wet.”
I grunted. I liked that they adapted to my language so easily, without the need for big discussions about it.
“Yeah.” I bit on my lip until the pressure helped me think clearer. “Feels so good.”
It felt better when Claude was there, too, their fingers teasing my nipples. I stiffened, only for a second.
“Need more,” I breathed.
I tried to make eye contact, but I wasn’t sure I succeeded. Sometimes, fucking myself provided comfort, and warmth. Other times, it amped up everything and made me ten times needier for everything.
“What do you need?”
When they asked like that, it wasn’t just a question. It was a command. I knew it, deep in my gut. My toes curled.
“I don’t care, just… something. Nipple clamps, your mouth, a dildo, whatever. I’ll take it.”
I’d be so good at taking it, too—anything they needed or wanted from me.
I got that desperate. It wouldn’t be long until I was blubbering all of that out loud, either. For now, though, I was too focused on the way the mattress dipped with their weight. “Hang on a second,” they said.
The irrational part of me wanted to complain. The most rational part of me knew it made sense that they needed to move to grab at least one—or two, I wouldn’t complain—of the two toys I’d mentioned.
“The dildos here are all larger than I like,” they admitted, “but there’s a smaller set of clamps I’d like you to try.”
“Okay.”
I’d just been thinking about how intimidating those sounded. Not anymore. I trusted Claude, as wild and irrational as it could be. Besides, they’d just said it was a smaller set, and they knew I had no experience with it.
“I actually enjoy nipple clamps,” they spoke as they rummaged through another drawer. What they were doing only clicked when I spotted them covering the silicone clamps with smaller, finger-sized condoms. “They make me burn all over in the best way.”
I’d remember that for another time.
Probably.
The bed dipped again under Claude’s weight. They settled next to me, close but not as close as I shamefully wanted them.
“Just let me know if you want them gone, no safe word needed.”
“Did we have a safe word?”
The other day, we didn’t talk about safe words. After my research, I’d worried about it, and I texted them. They hadn’t answered for hours because they’d been shadowing another coworker or something for a meeting that never ended, which had been incredibly nerve-wracking. But then they’d said that we could talk safe words if we ever started playing heavier, but just asking to stop would be enough.
I agreed with them.
Yet…
Something about the way my brain was drowning in everything Claude felt like we’d hit that heavier play. I didn’t dare to say whether or not it was subspace, but it was definitely new and unexplored, and overwhelming in a titivating way.
“Red, yellow, green?” Claude suggested.
Maybe they also felt the turn I’d taken.
“Yeah.”
That was easy. I’d read about it, too.
“Good girl,” Claude drawled out the words. Their fingers teased my tits, circling and squeezing my nipples as they trailed there. I dug my heels into the mattress as my neck arched. “Breathe for me.”
It was hard, even before they’d done anything. I still pulled air in, though, still focused on their words even when there was too much to focus on as it was.
The silicone ends wrapped around my nipples soon after.
“I’m not going to tighten them too much this time.” Claude hovered over me, lips ghosting over my skin. “But just keep in mind, taking them off is gonna feel at least ten times more intense than what I do to you now.”
My mouth dried up. Claude’s words should have instilled fear, but they just made me hornier. Needier.
I watched, transfixed, as they tinkered with the tiny wheel on each side. The pressure was there, but it was not what I was expecting. It felt like having my nipples squeezed by my fingers. It was nice.
Then again, their words were playing on loop in my head. At least ten times more intense. Trepidation filled me as I found myself unable to look away. The tiny nubs pounded against the tight hold.
“How does it feel?”
I grunted. “Good.”
I couldn’t give them more than a one-word answer. It was a good thing they didn’t seem to be looking for more than that.
“I’m glad,” they teased. “Can you take your finger out of that needy hole of yours?”
“Why?” Did I whine? Maybe.
I didn’t know what to focus on, or why I should do it.
“Because you wanted me to suck you, and I’m not sure you can handle three things at once, gorgeous.”
I panted.
I wanted to protest, but Claude was probably right. “I want to.”
“I know,” they said. Their tone was soothing. It had the same effect as the back of their fingers trailing down my side. “We can talk about training you for it another day.”
Shit.
“Don’t say that,” I pleaded.
I wanted to last. Picturing those scenarios did not help stave off the building pleasure.
Their laughter didn’t help, either.
“So you don’t want to be the perfect slut for me?” Claude taunted as I pulled my finger out.
As with every hole, it always felt strange when it was suddenly empty. Some days, the emptiness pulled me into a mourning mood of sorts. Today, there was no time to mourn. Claude didn’t take any prisoners, didn’t tease around it. They just lapped at my clit until I had to focus hard on not thrusting my hips up into the air.
I didn’t notice right away, but I did when a sharpness like I hadn’t felt before pulled my focus back. Almost out of breath, I looked to see that they’d wrapped a finger around the chain connecting the two clamps together. Their eyes screamed wickedness when they stared up at me, giving a smaller, teasing tug.
“Again,” I breathed out the word—for reasons unbeknownst to me.
I thought pain would greet me, but it wasn’t quite pain. It was… fire, coursing up my veins and spreading throughout my entire body.
“Claude,” I warned. I didn’t know that I was going to last a lot more.
“You can let go with me,” they hummed, barely stopping the ministrations to my clit.
Their lips wrapped around the head, though, their cheeks hollowed out.
I felt that orgasm run through my entire body. I didn’t know what made me pass out—the orgasm itself, or Claude choosing that time to take off the clamps from my nipples.
Nothing had ever hurt so sharply, so physically. Yet, no pain had ever left such a feeling afterwards—a need to rejoice in it, to chase more of it.
FOURTEEN
Claude
“Do you really have to drop me off?”
“We both work tomorrow,” I reminded her, my voice softer than I’d ever admit as I tucked a few strands of dark hair behind her ear.
Truthfully, I didn’t want to leave her, either, let alone when she was still so dazed after whatever trip she’d gone on back at the club. I had so many questions about it, too, but after she’d come back to the land of the living, she’d just wanted to curl up by my side.
I hadn’t had the heart to do anything else but snuggle and praise her in an even softer voice than the one I was using now.
“I wanna see you more.”
“Good.” I didn’t know if it was Arlene talking or the needy sub she’d turned into back at the club. It should’ve been irrelevant, but something told me the distinction mattered. I wanted to honor it even when that meant not digging into what she really meant with that request. “I’ll walk inside with you, and I’ll text you first thing in the morning, okay? And you can call. Or text. Anytime.”
It was important that I told her that, and that she knew I meant it.
I did.
I’d read up on sub-drop enough to last me a lifetime over the last few days. I wanted to know about it if she struggled. Arlene was new to all of this, and while I assumed she’d done some research of her own, it still felt like my responsibility to make sure that she’d be okay.
I wanted it to be my responsibility.
Huh.
So I had a bit of Zaddy Domm in me, too? I guessed I was collecting types of Domms as if they were Pokémon. It would fit with the way I went about a million other things in life, so the revelation wasn’t too shocking. It was just funny.
I’d have to text Arlene about it—tomorrow, after checking in that she wasn’t feeling any worse for wear.
In hindsight, I shouldn’t have suggested we go to a kink club during the week—for her first time, no less. In my defense, though, the weekdays were when the clubs were emptier. My main issue back then had been to plan for a day when she wouldn’t be easily overwhelmed.
“Do you promise?”
Fuck, she sounded almost drunk. I’d given her plenty of water too, before we’d left the club with a promise to Clay that we didn’t hate him and we’d be back sometime. They’d mostly been just words, but I would not say no to going back. I’d say Arlene needed to do it, too. If nothing else, she needed to explore that fully fledged sub in her more, and being in the club seemed to unleash something she usually clung on to tighter.
Or maybe it had just been muffing?
I had no problem making her finger herself every day if that was the case. Or fingering her too, after I felt more confident about it. Watching was hotter, anyway. It was really underrated, but that didn’t change much for me.
Claude
Please tell me you didn’t snooze your alarm or something
Arlene
No, but I’ve been pretty groggy all morning
Sorry
Why is work a thing?? :(
Claude
You’re supposed to be the one about hustling and corporate BS
Don’t ask me
Arlene
PR is all about that BS too
Just saying
Claude
Fair enough
I just don’t take it seriously enough
Ugh, I have a meeting as soon as I walk through the doors
But seriously, are you feeling all right?
Arlene
Just exhausted because I’m a baby and I’m not used to going to bed so late during the week
But yeah, I’m fine
Well, horny thinking about it, tbh
Claude
Did you still want to meet this weekend?
We can also do dinner at Randy’s
Arlene
Yes, dinner, please
And weekend plans
But dinner first
Claude
A girl after my own heart
That was all the texting we did for the rest of the day. I supposed she was busy at work. She’d mentioned that her father was putting more responsibility on her, so it would make sense.
I still didn’t like it. I was… restless. There was a certain sense of security, and comfort, in the knowledge that I could give her what she wanted from my role as a Domm. There was also more insecurity, a need to have more defined lines around whatever it was that we were doing or building or…
Ugh.
I was so gone, it was ridiculous.
My head hurt now too, because I’d come to Randy’s early after I’d run out of things to do around the house, and I’d run into Ray. I liked him, and he was great, but ever since he’d learned my family was from Québec, he just switched to French when I was around. It wasn’t as if I’d suddenly forgotten my native language, but I hadn’t really spoken it since I graduated from high school.
Arlene walked into the diner about five minutes later. I was going to flag her down, but she spotted me quickly. It was stupid, but a part of me wanted to say it was because she was tuned in to me already.
See the part about being too far gone? I needed to clear my head, stat. No one wanted a clingy person, Domm or not. I wasn’t a clingy person.
Arlene looked good as she sat down in the booth. She was wearing a cute vintage dress and a matching headband with sneakers. I guessed she had changed clothes after coming back from the office. She might tease me all she wanted about my biases against finance people, but sneakers were not business attire. She was the kind of person to dress up for work, too.
“Sorry I ordered already.” I realized belatedly the way her eyes tracked the half-finished plate of fries. “I ended up arriving here about… two hours ago, I think?”
“Oh.” Arlene’s eyes widened before her face settled on a relaxed smile. It suited her, even though it wasn’t as common as I would’ve liked. I liked to think I was bringing it out of her, and I liked how the thought made me feel. “How come?”
“Honestly?” I grimaced. Other people being vulnerable around me? That was fine. Me, being vulnerable around other people? Not so fine. “I was anxious as fuck.”
Arlene hadn’t expected me to say that. It was as clear as day in the way she froze. One of the servers walked by to get her order before she could say a word, though. I didn’t know if I was saved by the bell, or if it was the complete opposite. I couldn’t look away from her until the server left again and she had to figure out how to get back on topic.
“I’m anxious, too,” Arlene said before she licked her lips. “At the same time, I’ve never been as relaxed as I am today. I guess I’m still riding the aftermath of last night?”
