I sashay into the lavish study, my raven hair cascading down my back like a waterfall of night. The handsome stranger seated behind the mahogany desk gazes up at me, his eyes widening as they drink in my curves. He rises to greet me, but I wave a dismissive hand.
“Sit,” I command, my voice like honey and spice. “We have business to attend to.”
As he complies, I circle the desk, my hips swaying with each step. I perch on the edge, crossing my long legs. He licks his lips, eyes locked on my exposed thighs.
“Tell me, darling,” I purr, “have you ever been made to edge for hours on end, teetering on the brink of release only to be denied?”
A shiver runs through him at my words. “No, never,” he admits, his voice husky.
I tilt my head, appraising him. “You will tonight.” I reach for his hand, guiding it to the growing bulge in his trousers. “Let’s begin.”
Under my guidance, he learns to pleasure himself with skilled strokes, his breath hitching as he draws closer to the precipice. I watch, mesmerized, as his chest heaves and his fingers dance.
“Keep going,” I encourage, my voice low and seductive. “Don’t stop, no matter how close you get.”
He obeys, his grip tightening as he works himself into a frenzy. I can see the desperation in his eyes, the primal need to spill his seed. But I won’t allow it. Not yet.
Minutes turn to an eternity as he teeters on the edge, his body tense and ready to explode. I lean in, my hot breath caressing his ear.
“So close,” I whisper, “but not quite. You’ll have to try harder.”
With a groan, he doubles his efforts, plunging into the abyss of pleasure once more. I watch, entranced, as he straddles the line between heaven and hell, forever denied the relief he so craves.
Finally, as the first light of dawn creeps through the window, he collapses back in his chair, spent and panting. I rise, smoothing my skirt, and offer him a wicked smile.
“Sleep well, my dear. Until next time, when we’ll continue your lessons in the art of edging.” With a swirl of my silk dress, I exit the room, leaving him to his restless slumber, his dreams no doubt filled with visions of my blue, blue eyes and the sweet torture I’ve bestowed upon him.
Rhea Stephens
888-750-4746 ext 868
https://thesincenter.com/rhea