Buying the Virgin

Chapter 132: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Forty-Eight

CHARLOTTE

It is very late at night, almost early in the morning. The light is eerie, just the glow of dials and displays

on medical equipment. The only noise is the hum of air-con.

Michael spooned behind me, he and I sharing the single bed beside my Master, as, unable to sleep

myself, I watch him sleep.

I had thought Michael was sleeping too, but he moves, lifting my hair away with one hand, to kiss the

nape of my neck. The other hand sweeps the curve of my waist and hip.

“How are you feeling now?” he murmurs.

I turn to face him. “Much better, thanks. I’m…. I’m sorry I’ve been so awful the last few days. I didn’t

know what to do, how to cope.”

He kisses me again, softly on the lips. “Sorry? For being upset when the man you love, is hovering

between life and death? I don’t think so.”

“And what about the other man I love?”

He smiles, moving to wrap his arms around me. “You want to make love?” Belongs to © n0velDrama.Org.

“Mmm…. Yes.”

Hands around my shoulders and waist, he pulls me in close, his mouth open over mine. My Golden

Angel is feeling lusty, and already his erection presses against my belly.

It’s been too long. With all the panic and the fear and the upset of the last few weeks, our lovemaking

has been interrupted. But now, with my Master, if not well, at least on the mend, my libido surges.

Desire for my Golden Lover blooms warm; curling and winding up from my core. Trembling and

sighing, I stroke his beautiful face.

In the dim half-light, he smiles. “Ahh…. that’s better. That’s my Charlotte again.”

He drops his face to the soft skin of my neck, nibbling and nuzzling. “You smell wonderful,” he says.

“It’s good to see you smiling again.” His hand skims my waist, wanders up to a breast, which, stooping,

he cups to his face. The nipple between his lips, his mouth is warm over my skin. And now, my breath

catching, arousal flushes hot over me.

Arching my spine, flexing my body against his, I fling my head back, then looking sideways, see that

my Master has woken, and is watching us calmly. A smile plays across his lips. In the half-lit room, his

dark eyes are depthless pools.

“Master? Do you want….?”

“I don’t think I’m up to it right now.” he smiles. “But don’t let me stop you two. I’ll enjoy some vicarious

love-making this time.”

Michael pulls himself up beside me. “Kneel up.” he murmurs. “Face him.”

Turning on the edge of the bed, Michael kneeling behind me, I face my Master, he watching as Michael

runs his hands over me, over my body. His hands, flat-palmed, press against the slight curve of my

belly, smoothing over my waist and hip, sliding up to cup and support my heavy breasts. One-handedly,

he plays with a nipple, the other hand slipping down to the vee of my thighs.

My Master silently watches; Michael displaying me to him. As fingers work through my foxy curls, I part

my thighs further, inviting the fingers more deeply in. Michael reaches inwardly, scissoring between my

labia, opening me up. “I want you good and wet,” he says, loudly enough to be heard, and my Master

smiles.

His eyes follow the movement as my clit is fingered awake, his eyes crinkling at my small gasps,

electricity jabbing through to my sex. I’m sensitising now, growing moist and slippery, and my bud is

stiffening, small and hard under Michael’s expert manipulation.

He alters his grip, one hand swinging around my waist, pulling me tight, the other coming in from

behind me, to push into my slick pussy. “Play with your tits.” he murmurs. “Display yourself. Your

Master wants to watch you show yourself.”

Michael finger-fucking me from behind, my breath judders as I dip into the water jug by the side of the

bed, wetting the pads of my fingers to tweak my nipples hard. They crinkle to tight nubs, and I raise my

arms skywards to lift my breasts, displaying them to best effect. My hair, long and loose, cascades to

my waist, but Michael sweeps it back over my shoulders, clearing the view for my Master.

Fingers rubbing hard at my g-spot, a thumb working into my ass, I’m close to coming. I want to come. I

want my Master to be able to watch me come. Flushed and sweating, I drop a hand to my clit, then use

the other to stretch my lips apart, opening myself fully. Rubbing and working the tip of my bud, I find

just the spot where….

My pussy tenses, coils and trembles. Streaming hot inside my thighs, my sex shudders and quivers as

my climax builds. Watching me, mesmerised, my Master follows my every move until, suppressing my

urge to scream, I come….

Shaking and bucking, I might fall, but Michael supports me as orgasm wracks me. “Shhh….” I can hear

the smile in his voice. “Remember where we are. Try to keep the noise down.”

My climax waning; “Master, um…. are you hard?”

“Err, a little, but I don’t think I can….”

“I’ll do the work Master if you want me to.”

“I’d like that….”

The hospital air is very warm, easily comfortably enough for me to pull back his sheets, at least for a

few minutes. “You’ll tell me if I hurt you?”

“I don’t think you’ll hurt me, Charlotte.”

Michael sits beside us, stroking his own erection while he settles to watch me pleasure my Master.

Occasionally he sweeps my hair away where it interferes with my movement, or to give himself or my

Master a better view.

Gulping, I try not to look at the bandaging and bruising on the leg where the bullet smashed in. Instead,

sitting beside him on the bed, I bend to kiss him, my lips brushing his; skin on skin, soft and warm. His

breath is sweet, and a little minty, and as I deepen the kiss, his hand curves around into my hair.

Tracing the outline of his teeth with my tongue, one hand caressing his cheek, with the free hand I

stroke from his temples and cheek to his ear, down to his shoulders, and the tender skin of the base of

his neck. The fine dark hair of his chest ripples under my touch, and as I glide down his arm to meet his

hand, our fingers mesh. Lifting his hand, I kiss the lace of fingers.

He sighs as I draw my hair over his chest and stomach, trailing it along the length of his body, teasing

at his nerve endings as it sweeps south over his groin. His semi-erect shaft trembles as my copper

tresses flow and spill over him, stroking his balls and the delicate inner skin of his thighs.

Slipping inwards a little, I run my fingers inside his thighs, then upwards and inwards over the crinkling

tightness of his balls, cupping them into the palm of my hand, rolling them with my thumb. Eyes closing

and breath deepening, his head drops back.

I don’t want to go any further down his legs, towards his injury. The bruising is too widespread; the

wound too raw. Instead, I take the twitching tip of his penis between thumb and forefinger, rubbing

gently, sliding back and forth, as the shaft swells and stiffens in my hand. Ringed around the shaft, I

glide up and down his length with one hand, work the head with the other.

He is beginning to tremble, his breath to judder. His eyes open again to meet mine as I ‘aaahhhh’ warm

breath over him. I love to arouse my Master, and my pussy liquefies and flows as he responds to my

touch. I would love to take him inside me, but, so recently hurt, I don’t think he is ready for that.

Still holding his gaze, I drop to take his beautiful cock in my mouth, which now is hard and ready for

me, firm and sensitive, a dewdrop on the head, which I tongue away. One hand still working the shaft,

the other fondling his balls, massaging the root of his cock, with my lips, I pleasure the head. Circling

with the tip of my tongue, I insert, ever so slightly into the slit, enjoying the salty-bitter pre-cum that

seeps out. He quivers as I take the whole of the head in my mouth, giving him my heat, sucking gently

as I swipe my tongue around the ridge.

But my Dark Angel is ill and exhausted. Sighing, he strokes my head as I love him with my mouth. Is he

going to come? I don’t know. But I want him to know that I’m here for him. As I look up, he’s watching

me, his eyes holding mine.

His breathing grows heavy and slow. “It’s wonderful Charlotte, but I’m sorry. I’m not ready yet.”