“Ice Duchess” Brielle is desperate for a solution to her inability to orgasm, so when word about a man with a magical cock reaches her ears, she decides that he just might be what she needs.
Will Vincent’s "Golden Cock" be enough for the "Ice Duchess", or will something else come to play along the way?
Be Warned: multiple partners, MFM, FFM, m/m sex, f/f sex
His fingers rested for a fraction of a second against the nape of her neck. She froze. Skimming his digits over her shoulders and down her back, the corner of his lips lifted as he heard her exhale heavily. Skillfully, he worked the clasps of her corset and tossed the material on the bed. Wandering back to the mirror, he continued to adjust it. He needed to distance himself from her before succumbing to the temptation she was.
When he looked up again, she had removed her chemise. Pale, perfect skin gleamed under the dancing candle light. Terse breasts with large pink nipples waved hello and a honey-colored thatch called him to come closer and explore. He swallowed dryly. His balls felt heavy and his cock was stiff as a rod. This was going to be much harder than he thought.
“Lie on the bed, lean back on your elbows and keep your legs open.” His voice came out husky and low and he cleared it loudly. Brie nodded and obeyed without a word.
“Can you see your pussy?” he asked, moving the mirror.
She shook her head. “No,” she croaked.
Vincent bit his lip, unsure how to proceed. He needed to prop her up on something so she could gather a better view of her sex. By her words, he had the distinct feeling that Brie was never excited enough when she took men into her chamber. She needed to see how wet and desirable her pussy became when it was really ready to be plundered and she needed to experience her own touch. He swallowed hard as an idea occurred to him.
“Here.” Placing the mirror in a slight angle, he climbed up in bed with her. Spreading his legs around her, he sat so that her back was resting against his chest and her ass was resting between his thighs.
“Open up,” he whispered into her ear. Nodding, she spread her legs. Vincent clenched his fists at his side. He wanted to touch her, to feel that soft skin underneath his fingertips, to taste every inch of that delectable morsel.
“Can you see now?”
He took in a deep breath. Darn, she smelled good. Clean, like lilacs. She wriggled and her hair tickled his nose, the skin of her thigh rubbing against his leg and making his dick throb with unspent desire.
“What do you see?”
“Hair,” she murmured. He felt her swallow and tremble slightly. Oh, how he wanted to wrap himself around her. No, Vincent.
“Use your hands and open yourself wider.”
“What?” She tilted her head to look at him, her expression confused.
Unable to hold back, Vincent brushed his lips over hers. A current of sorts zinged over his lips at the contact.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s start slower. Caress your thighs, up and down. That’s right.”
He watched carefully as Brie rubbed her fingertips over her skin, coming closer to her quim at every upward stroke. Vincent closed his eyes. The view was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced. His cock wept, hidden underneath his robe, and pressed to her back. “Gently, pass your hand over your pussy.”
He felt her breath hitch as her mouth fell open in shock. However, she did not deny him but simply followed his command with a dry swallow. His Adam’s apple bobbed as she ran her hand over her damp thatch.
“Do it again,” he whispered. “Only this time, allow your fingers to touch more of that area,” he urged, his own breath coming out in a rasp.
He briefly glanced at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was disheveled, his face flushed. He wanted to buck his hips but he kept steady, giving Brie the opportunity she’d probably been denied all her life: to find her own release. Her hands found her vagina again, but this time she didn’t skim over the curly hairs, but parted them and explored the sticky wetness in between. Had he been standing further away he would have missed it, but pressed behind her, her moan was like a punch to his stomach, feeding the flame of his passion. Vincent closed his eyes, swallowing the groan in his throat and willing himself to relax.
“Again,” he said without opening his eyes.
She repeated the movement, but just as she was about to slide her fingers down to her thighs, he grabbed her hand with his left. Spreading her fingers, he forced her to delve deeper and slide the digits over the fold and curls of her pussy, spreading the wet dew lingering there.
“Vincent,” she whispered his name, her head falling against his shoulder, her body tensing slightly as he led her fingers to caress and touch her vulva repeatedly. Her wet moisture spread from her fingers to his, coating them. He groaned loudly.
“Don’t stop.” Pulling back, he brought his fingertips to his mouth and licked off the sweet honey. Their eyes met briefly in the mirror, desire clashing against desire.
Defined as weird since she was about eight, Elyzabeth honors the title by making up songs about her chores, doodling stars and flowers on any blank sheet of paper and talking to her dog whenever he feigns interest.
Losing the battle to the voices in her head is her favorite pastime after annoying her younger sister with her singing. Writing stories full of passion and emotion where love conquers all is her happy pill and she’ll forgo sleep to make her readers live the dream.