Mardi Gras

didn’t plan it, wasn’t being demanding Mistress Mina anymore. It just came out spontaneously, was simply what she wanted, needed.
His thrusts came harder in response, his mouth’s grip on her breast more intense.
“Yes,” she murmured, “yes.”
Everything inside her was rubbing together just the right way, and though she wasn’t normally a multiple orgasm sort of girl, she knew that tonight she was, and she also knew the second would be even better than the first, by the mere fact that he was inside her, the way she’d always fantasized. Of course, the mask and the ropes were new parts of the fantasy, but the lovely hard cock and the sucking of her breast, and the blond hair she ran her hands through—all that was the same. Only better. So much better.
“Yes, fuck me,” she whispered urgently. “Fuck me more. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” 50
Mardi Gras
This time the orgasm rose slow and steady, until she reached a point when she knew it was upon her, and she said, “Yes, now. Now, baby.” And it rocked her against him, filling her body with electricity at every hot lunge, vibrating through her like live wires whipping about. She cried out—loud, screaming cries—until finally the climax began to wane, leaving her to look into his eyes as he lifted his head from her breast.
Just as she’d anticipated, coming was even better that time. With him inside her.
Because you waited for it so long, she told herself. Because you’ve had a crush on him most of your life. That’s the only reason it had felt so…fulfilling, so profound. She had to believe that.
He continued to pump up into her and she could see, sense, that he was on the edge, too, and she wanted to feel Ty come in her, wanted to make him climax just as hard as she’d promised.
Of course, she’d already said lots of very dirty things to him, she’d already tied him up and made him obey her, she’d stripped for him, she’d gone down on him, she’d played with herself for him—what could she do to make it better for him, too, better than ever?
Following her instincts, she simply brushed against him, grazing her firm nipples across his chest as they moved together, before lowering her hands to stroke his nipples with her thumbs. Then she bent to kiss his neck—soft little kisses, like raindrops on his skin.
His moans had begun low, but now grew louder, more intense with each tiny kiss and touch she delivered, and she heard herself murmuring against the tender skin of his neck, “Come. Come for me.”
“Oh God,” he breathed above her. “God, yes, I’m going to. I’m going to.
I’m…ahhhhhhhh,” he yelled as he thrust up into her hard and deep, lifting them both from the chair. Once, twice, three times, then four—he raised her entire body with his cock, pumping, pumping, and she loved knowing he was emptying inside her, that 51
Lacey Alexander
she’d made it happen. She’d brought his fantasy to life, but for her, being with Ty was more than mere fantasy—it was a dream coming true.
As they slumped together, recovering, she instantly felt weird. She’d not thought about the after part, still having to keep her mask on after they finished, but certainly she had to. No other choice.
Still, she didn’t want the moment to end. She sat pressed against him, their chests molded together, her arms around his neck, her head on his shoulder. She thought she could stay like that forever.
Finally, though, his mouth quirked into a wan smile.
“What?” she asked.
“Are you going to untie me now, Mistress Mina? Or am I stuck this way?” Biting her lip, she dismounted from him, sorry for the loss when his cock left her, but wanting to free him from his bindings. The truth was, she’d sort of forgotten about him being tied, but now that she remembered, she felt bad, suspecting his arms were probably sore.
Behind him, she stooped to undo the knot, and when the rope fell away, his shoulder blades spread apart and he groaned, stretching.
As he bent to work at one ankle, she returned to the front of the chair to untie the other.
Finally free, he sat up, looking down to where she kneeled before him. “So, Mina, what now?”
Come to bed with me. Stay the night. Let’s make love. Without the whips and ties. They were fun, but I want you the normal, easy way, too. I want your hands on me.
She longed to say that, all of it, in the afterglow of sex. But of course, she couldn’t.
In fact, she could only think of one thing it made any sense to say at all. “You get dressed, and we say goodnight.”
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He gave a short nod, but as he bent down, reaching for his jeans, she couldn’t help wondering if he’d been hoping for something else.
Just then, he muttered, “Awww…damn it,” and bent his forehead into his hand.
“What?” she asked without moving from her place near his knee.
He gave her a look drenched in regret. “There’s a condom in my jeans, but I never even thought…and even if I had, my hands were…” He sighed. “I fucked up.” The same regret rushed through her now, as well, leaving her unable to believe she’d forgotten, too. Somehow with Ty, someone she knew so well, it just hadn’t been at the forefront of her mind like with other guys.
“Well,” he said, “I’m sorry I can’t tell you I’m a chaste guy who doesn’t usually fool around on the first date, but I am always pretty careful. Up to now, I mean.” She nodded, encouraged. “Me, too. And I’m on the pill.” After cleaning up with a tissue from a nearby table, he stepped into his jeans. She pushed to her feet, as well, wondering if she should find her panties, adjust her bra, but she settled for not doing either, since as far as he knew, she didn’t have to leave the apartment in order to be home. It