Sugar Baby Chronicles: Aimes

She touched me like I was a doll—a breakable, fragile thing. It was such a contrast to the fire in her eyes that I couldn't help but shiver, clutching the edges of the counter as she took her time.

The backs of her knuckles found the rise of my collarbones and dipped over my shoulder, down my arm and into the small of my waist.

"You're beautiful."

I barely heard those words, whispered into the semi-darkness, but they resonated in my chest like an unfurling bloom, spreading across my body like a burst of warmth. I trembled under the feather-like onslaught of her fingers, needing a deeper connection, craving so much more.

"Please." My voice was a rasp in the semi-darkness. "Please kiss me."

"No."

It was the cruellest response, the swiftest denial. It snapped my yearning heart in half and I gasped aloud, reaching for the hand that was exploring my body in those barely-there touches.

She stilled as my fingers wrapped around her forearm, needing something to hold onto amid these pants and trembles.

"Did I say you could touch me?"

Oh, she was cruel. Her low, whispered question made my body throb so wonderfully, even as my heart jumped to obey her as quickly as possible. My hand fell away from her arm, and my knees parted like an open invitation, creating a little nook for her between my legs.

Please come closer. Please, please, please.

I was begging without words and I knew it, gazing up into her eyes with as much longing as I could muster.

Her lips crooked into a smile before she laughed—just little puffs of air, really.

"That won't work on me," she chided, her fingers now moving across the gentle folds of my belly. "I'm not that type of lover."

Oh god, then what type are you?

I wanted to yell the question but I knew she wouldn't tell me anything until she was ready—I knew it in my gut.

Her fingers trailed along at their own pace down my thigh and I let my head fall back and my eyes close, savoring the lightest of touches as though they were circles against my clit.

Fuck, why was I so wet? I was a mess down there and she hadn't even done anything. Hadn't even kissed me like I'd asked.

If she wanted to build anticipation, she was succeeding. But could one call it anticipation if I was already on the edge, poised to fall over whenever she commanded it?

Her fingers curled under my knee, hooking it up and inward towards my body. I shifted back on the counter a little, making room for my foot right on the edge.

Her deep hum of satisfaction resonated through my body like an aphrodisiac.

Then she leaned forward, running her nose against the curve of my neck, inhaling my scent on a deep breath.

"I could take you like this," she whispered against the shell of my ear. "I can smell how wet you are."

The breath that left my lips was high and weird.

A whimper.

I was whimpering for this woman, my gut clenching and trembling and heating at the thought of being open to her.

"Please."

We both knew I wasn't beyond begging at this point, but I made sure to clutch the counter instead of her body—it would be inconceivable if she pulled away now because I overstepped.

Her lips met the dip of my throat and the scent of her hair rose around me like the richest, deepest perfume. Jasmine, I think. Mixed with the tiniest hint of lavender. Such a soft scent for a hard woman.

"Tell me your limits."

My what?

My brain was foggy with her scent, her closeness. The way her fingers now gripped my waist, thrumming with urgency.

"Hmm?"

I made a questioning sound, tipping my head to the side to allow her full access to my neck.

She nipped me, deliberately pinching a fold of my skin between her teeth and biting down. Hard.

My core pulsed and I knew if she kept this up, I'd be leaking out the edges of my briefs.

"Tell me your limits, babygirl."

Her tongue soothed the little bite and I struggled to piece together a sentence, my throat working helplessly.

"What... what do you want?"

Soft puffs of laughter against my neck.

"I don't think you should be asking me questions like that."

"W-why not?"

"It could be dangerous... for you."

If words could make me come, I would have been a puddle right at that moment.

I moistened my drying lips, looking into the fierce possession in her eyes.

"Please."

I saw the spark of impatience rush across her face. Hard fingers dug into my waistline.

"If you don't set your limits, Ayme, I'm going to hold you down and fuck you with my strap."

"Mmph."

My lips parted but no words came forth, just ridiculous little noises that sounded pathetic to my own ears.

Her lips slid across the curve of my shoulder, pressing kisses that were slowed down. Sultry. They lingered against my skin like a heated, hungry reminder of her desire for me.

"Yes or no, Ayme? I need to hear it."

My body did the thinking for me, sliding forward on the counter and wrapping my legs around her waist.

"Yes," I breathed, mirroring her position and placing my nose against her neck. "Yes, please. Fuck me. Hold me down. Yes."

She rewarded me with a hand diving into the hair at the back of my head, pulling me away to look into her eyes.

"You're mine."

For tonight? Or forever?

My body didn't care as it quivered, ringing with the undiluted possession in those words.

I leaned forward and dragged my tongue over her lips, needing to taste her again, needing to feel her throbbing against me, feel her lipstick smears on my skin.

"Please," I whispered, and finally, finally, she obliged, her hand unwavering at the back of my neck as she slid her lips across mine, devouring the oversensitive, tingling flesh.

I'd never felt this way before. So free in the cage of someone's arms. My mind was a blank canvas, knowing she'd take care of me, feed every need that was burning through my body. There were no second guesses, no hesitance. I would follow her lead, do anything she wanted, and in return, I knew she would give me everything I needed.

How was I already used to the taste of her lips? The smell of her hair? The swell of her breasts against my chest? All of it wrapped in such a stern package that was already beginning to feel like home.

I grabbed at the hand around my waist, caressing it until it let go. She pulled away for breath and I entwined our fingers, relishing the contrast of our skin. Mine so pale against her own.

When she didn't move away, I raised the back of her hand to my lips, placing a lingering kiss there, an inch or two from that shimmering gold ring.

"I am yours," I whispered against her skin. "I won't fight it. I won't fight you. You can have me as you wish."

She did the most unexpected thing, leaning forward to lay her lips on my forehead in the chastest kiss I'd ever received.

Then she moved away, just an inch or so, her fingers disentangling from mine to reach for the ties to her wrap dress around the small of her waist.

My breath caught with an audible hitch as she undid the knot, tugging at the ties that held her dress together.

My gaze zoomed into the quick movement of her fingers, and her dress parted to the sides, revealing something like a body shaper, black and tight against her chestnut skin.

As the dress fell from her arms and pooled on the floor with my clothes, I immediately reached for her waist, needing to feel her, but she slapped my hand away, choosing instead to pull the pins out of her hair as I watched.

This was turning into some sort of strip tease—my body certainly thought so, pulsing so hard I found it hard not to squirm on the unyielding marble.

I counted the pins as she removed them, setting them next to me in a neat pile. It was an exercise that tested my patience sorely; my fingers ached to delve into the band of my briefs and stroke myself as I watched her slow, calculated movements.

I resisted the urge. Barely.

Fifteen.

I counted fifteen pins as each one hit the counter with a little click. In my head, I knew the practical purpose of what she was doing. She was letting her hair down—simple, right?

No. I wasn't prepared for it.

My body reeled with the depth of the floral scent that swirled around me. It wasn't just jasmine and lavender; it was all of that plus the heated scent of her skin. It plowed across my senses, heady and thick, and I made a sound, unable to voice anything I was feeling.

Her curls tumbled across her shoulders and down to her waist, tiny springs that were oiled into submission. The strands glowed and shimmered in the amber lights and my gut ached to press my nose to the crux of that scent. To breathe it all in and lose myself in her.

Then she turned, presenting me with her back and a taut bow across the middle of her shaper.

"Take it off."

Another order. Curt, without hesitation.

My body lurched forward, fingers entangling in the strings and tugging, trembling at the prize that lay just beyond my reach.

The strings loosened and parted. Before she could deny me, I snuck a quick kiss to the top of her shoulder, before flicking my tongue against my lips to taste her skin.

Her own lips crooked upward in that smirk as she turned back to me, letting the shaper fall to the floor.

A goddess.

There were no other words I could use to describe her.

She was by no means a small woman. That was part of her appeal. Her body was soft, so beautifully curved and dimpled around the simple black lingerie.

I blinked and blinked again.

How the hell had I gotten so lucky?

"Come here."

She'd barely finished saying those words before I launched myself at her, wrapping my arms and legs around her body and fusing her lips to mine. I felt her chuckle against me, taking my weight fully with her hands under my ass.

I was whispering things to her—things I barely processed before it left my lips and melded to hers. I didn't even notice we were moving until I felt the softness of bed sheets beneath my back. Yet I still clung to her, unwilling to let her lips go even as she tried to pull away.

"Ayme."

My fake name seemed like a reprimand on her tongue and it sounded so wrong. Too wrong. I needed to hear her say my real name.

"Call me Aimes," I breathed, pulling away not more than an inch.

Her fingers dug into my ass.

"Did you lie to me before?"

I bit my lip.

"My name is Aimee with an i. But everyone calls me Aimes." I moved restlessly against her. "Can we please not talk about this now?"

She pinched my ass as punishment and I squirmed trying to get away. But not really. God, I was so conflicted. Why did I relish anything from this woman's hands, even if it was pain?

"No more lies," she commanded, her features so stern and unyielding I found myself nodding frantically.

"Anything. Anything. Just please."

I'd ached for too long. My body was no longer throbbing delightfully; it had tumbled over into tortured pulsing. I pressed the heels of my palms into my breasts, trying to take the ache away, but I felt her move.

Her hand landed on my neck, pressing against the sides.

I froze.

"Don't you dare, babygirl."

"Hmph?"

It was the only noise I dared to make as a titillating type of fear trickled through my veins.

"Move your hands." She watched as I removed my hands from my breasts, mourning the loss of their pressure against those sensitized nubs.

"Your pleasure is mine. Understand?"

Another question that wasn't really a question. She didn't even wait for me to respond. And in a way, she didn't really need to. I was like molding clay in her hands, waiting to be shaped into submission.

But that didn't mean I wasn't impatient, moving my hips against her. This was taking too long. I'd never recalled sex lasting this long without at least an orgasm. My body pulsed at the thought—needy, restless.

But I trusted her. I knew she would take care of me. I don't know why I was so sure about that—I just was.

She tugged at the band of my sports bra and the next thing I knew, it was flying over the edge of the bed.

My breasts were small and lay flat against my chest. I'd always been sorta neutral about them. They looked good when I dressed masc but on my femme days I mourned that they didn't fill out my bras.

She didn't seem to mind. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

Her fingers reached between her breasts, pinching the front clasp of her bra and letting it part.

I stared.

My eyes were probably wide as a goldfish but I didn't care. I always thought women only had breasts like these in movies. Beautifully curved with a teardrop shape, they were topped with large, thick nipples that were ruched and pouting. My heart sang as I saw that small indication of her desire and within mere seconds, my mouth had filled with saliva.

She was sitting on top of me, her knees firmly on the bed on each side of my hips. From this angle, it looked like she was about to crush me with the weight of her breasts, and to be honest, I wouldn't mind. If she wanted to suffocate me with those thick nipples, I would die happy.

The soft pouch of her belly pressed against my tummy as her bra fell away with a little click on the wood floors.

My hips twitched of their own accord, and I wondered what the hell I could do to hurry this painfully slow process along.

"Turn."

She gave me enough room to get on all fours, her hands running down the indent of my spine as though I were a skittish animal she wanted to soothe.

Her fingers hooked the band of my briefs and I turned just in time to watch her peel the fabric away from my skin, the wet center coming off with a little extra effort.

I should be embarrassed. Perhaps in any other scenario, I would have been.

But I heard her rumble of approval as my underwear landed between my knees, her fingers playing over the curve of my ass.

"Such a pretty pussy."

The words hit me right in the gut, stroking the tension that was already at a peak. I bent low, my elbows hitting the sheets as my knees parted even further in the dirtiest invitation I knew.

"Please," I begged, my voice almost disappearing into a pillow. "Please just fuck me. I can't take this anymore."

In response, her thumb flicked over my weeping core and I cried out, burrowing deeper into softness around me.

Yes, yes, YES!

God, please. If she kept flicking me like that, I was going to come. I was already so close. So on edge. Please, just please.

I felt her fingers at the edge of my opening, tracing lightly, dipping in. Toying with me.

I knew I shouldn't have—I knew it but I did it anyway, pushing back onto her fingers and taking them as deep as they would go.

A stinging slap landed on the curve of my ass and I jumped, clenching around those deliciously curved digits.

Then her front was draped over my back, her weight pressing me into the mattress. Oh fuck, she was heavy; why was this so fucking good?

"What did I say?" she barked in my ear, her fingers moving deliciously inside me.

"W-what?"

I was swiftly losing my ability to process things, my entire being focused only on those fingers.

"Your pleasure is mine. You will not rush me."

Then those fingers were removed from my body and my fingers curled into fists. Her warmth was gone from my back and I heard shuffles in the background. The clink of a harness. The tightening of a strap. The crinkle of a condom.

I didn't dare move; I wanted this too much. My body was frozen in place, fearing that she'd deny me pleasure if I moved a single muscle.

Then her palms were against my ass again, soothing now instead of slapping.

"You're going to open for me."

I nodded on the pillow, arching my back as high as it would go, offering everything I had and a few tears.

How had she gotten me like this, naked and begging and crying to be taken? All in a span of a few short hours.

My nails bit into my palms as I felt the tip of her cock push into me.

Don't move, don't move, don't move.

I ached to push myself back and impale myself on the deliciously ridged silicone, but I forced myself to be still. To take what was offered and not a drop more. Every part of me quivered, fighting to stay upright instead of melt into the sheets in a puddle of surrender.

Her fingers moved under my body to the crux of my clit and this time, I couldn't hold back the jump that slid her deeper into me.

I shuddered, murmuring unintelligible words. Saying her name like a prayer.

With each pulsing, pleasure-filled circle on my clit, she slid deeper and deeper until I didn't think I could take anymore.

I told her so.

"You can."

She was right.

I needed something to hold. Something to dig my fingers into so I could maintain some sort of control. Some sort of decency. Because I was rapidly devolving into pathetic sounds and high whimpers.

Then Mira draped herself over my back, seating herself even more firmly within my body. I clenched down on her, muscles rippling as I reached one hand behind to hold on to her neck. Keep her plastered to me as I quivered.

"I need... I can't..."

She moved, pulling out halfway and thrusting back in.

Too full. Too good.

More tears leaked from my eyes as my lips parted on the pillow.

A sound of surrender.

She began fucking me in earnest, her breasts slick against the sweat on my back, her nipples poking into my skin as she set a hard, fast pace.

I was whimpering, crying out, holding on to her hair and neck and skin as she pushed into me with savage precision, tilting her hips at different angles as though she was experimenting with something.

I froze when she brushed across that swollen bit of flesh inside me, moving with even more purpose now that she'd found what she was looking for. Her fingers rubbed in circles over my clit as she huffed into my neck, her teeth digging into my shoulder like a brand.

"You may come."

I hadn't even thought to seek permission, but my body burst around those words, rippling on the sweet silicone pressure thrusting into my body so savagely. So sweetly.

I was crying, tears melting into the pillow, a small stream of drool leaving the corner of my lips as I struggled to stay in the present when my mind was drifting elsewhere.

It was too good, too much. My body struggled to cope as the thrusting continued, pushing me up and over another edge, my scream of surprised pleasure echoing in the large room.

"Mira!"

A sob accompanied her name and my fingers dug deeper into her hair, anchoring her to me.

Her voice was warm in my ear.

"You're perfect. So fucking beautiful."

I was ruined.

There was no other word for it.

She'd ruined me.

Emotionally and physically.

My body went slack under her and her thrusts slowed, fingers retreating from the swollen bud of my clit.

"Mmph."

It was a sound of defeat. Of surrender.

Whatever she'd sought to take from me... it was hers. My tears. My pleasure. My very soul.

"Deep breath," she cautioned, and I shuddered, trying to do as she asked.

As I inhaled, she pulled out of my body, sliding slowly as her hands stroked my sides in an effort to soothe me.

Nothing could prepare me for the wave of emptiness that rolled over me as her heat was removed from my back.

I wanted to open my mouth, tell her to come back, but I couldn't summon the energy.

My vision was blurry around the edges as I struggled to focus.

She was gone for what seemed like forever, the sweat on my back cooling rapidly.

I shivered, reaching blindly for the covers but I was lying on top of them.

Then there was a dip in the mattress and I was in her arms again, the familiar floral scent closing around me.