Page 90 of Fundamentals of Being a Good Girl
“Good,” she says, her voice a little hoarse. “That’s so good, Bram.”
I grunt, my entire body clenched against the release, a string of shining pre-come dripping from my tip.
She watches me strain for a moment, clearly enjoying my struggles, and then comes to some kind of decision, because her lips curve wickedly.
“Again,” she declares, “but this time—”
She wriggles out of her shorts, which have nothing underneath. She’s wearing only the sweatshirt now, and then it’s all plump, creamy thighs and that ass and those hips and the adorable smile of her belly just above her bare pussy.
“This time I’m going to come while I watch you,” she says, perching on the edge of the counter and spreading her legs wide. The sunlight means that I can see immediately how worked up she’s become watching me jerk off, and when she runs two fingers up the center of herself, they come away wet. “But you still can’t come.”
“Maddie.” It comes out as a growl. A warning.
“You said I could tell you what to do,” she purrs as she licks her own arousal off her fingertips.
Fuck. Me.
My cock gives a painful jerk in the air, without me touching it. Another string of pre-come drops to the floor.
She touches herself again, this time focusing on the needy bundle of nerves at the top of her sex, relaxing back on one hand again and looking for all the world like someone having a casual self-care session. Like someone treating themselves to a nice morning with some porn. It’s so goddamn hot, and without meaning to, I grab myself again, stroking as I watch her fuck herself. Delicate fingers, her nails varnished the same killer red as her lipstick, fucking against all sweet, wet pink.
“I did this thinking of you after that first day when you showed up on my doorstep.” The words come out jagged and harsh. “That night. I got in the shower and I thought of fucking your mouth until you had pink lipstick all over your chin. I thought of bending you over my desk and spanking you until you were begging and squirming, and then making you take me as deep as I could go. Making you come on me while my handprints were still glowing on your backside.”
She sucks in a breath, her fingers moving faster. “I fucked myself that night too,” she admits, her hips moving now to meet the pleasure. “In the library bathroom. I had to bite the side of my hand to keep quiet. I thought about you calling me a brat. I imagined you finding me on campus and making me take your cock before class.” Her gaze is on that same cock now, like she’s jealous of me for touching it and also like she’s... proud of it. Like it belongs to her, a treasured possession that she can demand at any time, and oh god, it’s true, it belongs to her as much as the rest of my body and my mind. As much as my heart.
“Tell me the worst thing you thought about,” she demands breathlessly. “The filthiest thing. The thing you would never even imagine if you were in your right mind.”
“Maddie, don’t,” I groan, jerking myself harder despite my protests. “Don’t make me say it.”
“But I’m in charge right now, and I want to know,” she says, brat and queen all at once. “You’re always so good, so careful, but now I know that you’ve been bad before too. That there’s a streak of it in you. That you want to be bad with me.” The last part comes in a low voice—the words broken as her hips move even faster into her touch.
And I shouldn’t, it’s awful, it’s nothing like the person I want to be, nothing I would ever even think with anyone other than Maddie, but—
“I thought about you being the nanny,” I grind out, ashamed and aroused and maybe a little angry, even, to be forced to admit this. “Mynanny. The pretty nanny walking around my house in her flirty little skirts, flaunting herself at me, knowing full well that I already knew how good her pussy was. I thought about having her whenever I wanted—available, wet, forbidden, but still mine mine mine.”
“Me too,” Maddie whispers, eyes fluttering. “Oh god, I thought about it so much. So fucking wrong, but I imagined you using me whenever you needed relief—fuck—”
We’re merciless with ourselves, and thenoisesright now, the wet noises, the chafing, slapping noises, the whole scene is beyond indecent. With our shared nanny fantasy hanging in the air, it’s just plain wrong. And yet, I’m there, and I’m so fucking depraved because the orgasm clawing its way up my groin is fueled by our filthy words...
“Don’t come,” Maddie gasps right before she cries out my name. Her entire body shudders, rolls, fucks, as she keeps rubbing herself through the cataclysm shaking its way through her. It’s wet on the counter underneath her, on her thighs, and I’m about to die because I can see the quiver and pulse of her climaxing cunt.
I make a noise I don’t even recognize from myself—something like a roar and a whimper together, one breaking apart into the other—and force my hand away from myself, having to curl my bare toes into the floor and brace every muscle in my body against the pleasure threatening to tear its way up my cock. It surges angrily in the air, redder than the rest of my body, so swollen that the skin is satin and gleaming, the veins huge and furious and beating with my rabid heart.
But it holds. With several shredded breaths and more fluid leaking out of the tip, my orgasm holds itself at bay.
Maddie is still quivering, still riding it out, the flush on her cheeks and throat matched by her flushed cunt as she comes to the end of her trembling contractions. She takes a slow breath and lifts her hand from between her legs. Wet, wet, wet.
“Come here,” she whispers, and I’m helpless but to comply, coming to the counter and then accepting her fingers when she pushes them into my mouth. I groan at the taste—sweet, light, all Maddie—and then let out a guttural, animal sound when she hops off the counter and grabs hold of my thoroughly edged flesh.
“Follow me,” she says, like I have a choice with those red-tipped fingers wrapped around my dick. Like I’d ever do anything different. And then all five foot two of her leads all six foot four of me by my tender, throbbing cock up the stairs and to my bedroom, where Hester Prynne vacates the bed with a huff and stalks off to find somewhere else to leave an imprint of fur.
“Lie down” is my next order, and I do it, not bothering to pull down the covers, my mind fixed only on relief. I’ll do anything she says to get it. I’ll have her sit on my face. I’ll rub myself against the soles of her feet. Literally anything so long as she’ll let me come.
She doesn’t make me wait. She crawls over me, swings a leg over my hips, and then mounts me like I’m a service she’s paid for.
I clench my jaw as she impales herself, the squeeze of her channel so unfairly tight, all of her like silk, like a slippery glove I barely fit into, and when she sits up straight and starts using me with her hands braced on my chest, I find clenching my jaw isn’t enough. My hands are fisting in the blankets, my breathing is coming in gusts from my nose like a bull’s, and after she whips off her sweatshirt to reveal her pert, bouncing tits, I have to close my eyes for a few seconds because I can’t handle it. I can’t handle it.
“Bram,” she says, her voice husky, private. “Bram, look at me.”
