Chapter 191
**Sara**
Once we were both spent, breathless and trembling, he rolled us onto our sides. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. We lay there in a tangle of limbs, our breaths mingling as we came down from the high together.
"I love fucking you," he murmured against my hair, planting a kiss on top of my head.
I smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. "Back at you, Tom. Back at you."
"So," he traced patterns on my back with his fingertips, "about that job search bet..."
"Oh no. You're not getting out of this."
"I wasn't trying to." His hand slid down to squeeze my ass. "Just making sure you remember the stakes."
"Trust me, I remember. One month of celibacy when I win."
"If you win." He pulled me closer. "And when you lose, you're mine for a week."
"Such confidence." I nipped at his collarbone. "Already planning what you'll do with me?"
"Maybe." His voice dropped lower. "Want a preview?"
"Nope." I sat up, straddling him. "Because I'm going to win."
His hands settled on my hips. "You sure about that?"
"Absolutely." I ground against him, feeling him hardening beneath me. "In fact, you should start practicing now. Get used to not having this."
"This?" His thumb brushed over my clit, making me gasp. "You mean your sweet little pussy?"
"Stop that." I grabbed his wrist. "You're going to need to learn some self-control."
"Did you forget that you just begged me to make you come?"
"I did not beg."
"No?" He raised an eyebrow. "'Please Tom, more, don't stop' - ring any bells?"
"That wasn't begging." I felt my cheeks flush. "That was directive feedback."
"Directive feedback?" He laughed. "Is that what they're teaching in MBA programs these days?"
"Shut up." I leaned down to kiss him, but he held me back.
"No, no, please continue. Tell me more about this directive feedback system."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm not saying anything else about that. Aren't you supposed to be practicing your self-control anyway?"
He grinned. "Self-control? I thought you were the one who needed to work on that."
"Excuse me?" I poked his chest. "I seem to recall you being the one who couldn't keep his hands off me."
"Hmm, is that so?" His fingers danced along my thigh. "I don't think you're exactly complaining."
"That's not the point." I batted his hand away. "Do you even know how to masturbate properly?"
Tom looked at me with a sheepish grin. "Uh, not really? I've done it before but am unsure if I'm doing it right."
"Seriously? You're a grown man, and you don't know how to pleasure yourself?"
"I guess I've never really thought about it. I've always had, you know, other options."
"Well, that's not going to help you during this bet." I crossed my arms over my chest. "You're going to need to figure it out if you want to survive a month without sex."
"Maybe you could, uh, show me?" He gave me a hopeful look. "You know, for educational purposes?"
"Absolutely not!" I felt my face heat up. "There's no way I'm giving you a hands-on demonstration."
"Aw, come on. It'll be like a study session." He waggled his eyebrows. "I'm a fast learner, I promise."
"Nope, not happening." I rolled off him and snuggled into the pillows. "Let's just get some sleep."
"Sleep? It's barely midnight. You don't have any early classes tomorrow - or ever again. MBA's done, remember?"
"Exactly why I need my beauty rest." I poked his chest. "Job hunting starts first thing tomorrow. Need to be fresh-faced for all those interviews I'm going to crush."
"You're really serious about this bet, aren't you?"
"Dead serious." I grinned at him in the dim light. "Can't wait to watch you suffer for a whole month. I'm thinking of recording your descent into madness for posterity."
"How thoughtful of you." He pulled me closer. "But you realize you're also punishing yourself if you win, right?"
"Small price to pay to watch you squirm. Besides, there's always..." I wiggled my fingers at him.
"Now, who needs masturbation lessons?"
"Unlike some people, I'm well-versed in self-care techniques."
"Care to elaborate?" His eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Nice try. But that's classified information."
"Classified? What are you, the CIA of self-pleasure?"
I laughed, playfully swatting his arm. "Nice try, but a girl's gotta have some secrets."
He pouted, giving me his best puppy dog eyes. "Aw, come on. You can't just tease me and not spill the details."
"Sorry, babe." I patted his cheek. "Classified information, remember? I've got to keep some mystery in this relationship."
"Mystery, huh?" He waggled his eyebrows. "I think I like the sound of that."
"I bet you do." I snuggled closer, resting my head on his chest. "But a girl's gotta have her tricks up her sleeve."
"What kind of tricks are we talking about here?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" I teased, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertip.
"Absolutely." He caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "Spill the beans. What's in your secret stash?"
I pretended to zip my lips, then threw away the key. "Nope, not a word. You'll just have to use your imagination."
"Ooh, imagination, huh?" He pulled me closer, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "I think I can work with that."
I felt heat rise to my cheeks as his hands slid down to my hips. "Tom, behave. You're supposed to be practicing self-control, remember?"
"Who needs self-control when I've got you right here?"
"Uh-uh." I playfully bopped his nose. "No more distractions. You've got a month of celibacy ahead of you, mister. Better start getting used to it."
He groaned, dramatically flopping back onto the bed. "Do I have to?"
"Yes, you have to. And no cheating, either. I'll know if you try to sneak in a quickie."
"How will you know?" He gave me a sly grin. "You can't watch me 24/7."
"Oh, I have my ways." I tapped the side of my head. "Feminine intuition, remember?"
"Is that what they're calling it these days?"
"Laugh it up. But just wait. I will have you begging for mercy by the end of the month."
His hand reached my thigh, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin there. "Maybe I'll be the one teaching you a thing or two about self-control."
I swatted his hand away, though I couldn't hide the shiver that ran through me. "In your dreams. I've got this whole bet thing in the bag."
"We'll see about that." He pulled me down for a searing kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips. I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his hair.
When we finally broke apart, breathing heavily, he gave me a playful grin. "So, what kind of tricks are we talking about here? Fingers, vibrators, maybe some handcuffs?"
I felt my face flush even deeper. "Tom! I'm not telling you about my sex toys."
"Sex toys, huh?" His eyes gleamed with mischief. "Now you've really got my attention."
"Ugh, you're impossible." I buried my face in his chest, hoping to hide my embarrassment.
"Aw, come on." He chuckled, running his fingers through my hair. "Don't be shy. I promise I won't judge."
I peeked up at him, biting my lip. "Well, I may have a few toys in my collection."
"What kind of toys are we talking about here?"
I sighed, resigning myself to this conversation. "Fine, but you have to promise not to laugh."
"Cross my heart." He drew an X over his chest.
"Okay, well..." I took a deep breath. "I've got a few different vibrators, a couple of dildos, some anal beads, butt plugs, and this really nice little rabbit vibe that I—"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." He held up a hand, his eyes wide. "Anal beads? Butt Plugs? Rabbit vibes? Damn, Sara, you've got quite the collection there."
I felt my face burning with embarrassment. "I told you not to laugh!"
"I'm not laughing!" He quickly reassured me. "I'm just impressed, that's all."
I buried my face in the pillow, mortified at this conversation's turn. "Can we please change the subject?"
"No way. I need to know more about this collection of yours. Do you use them often?"
"Not really," I mumbled into the pillow. "Just occasionally. When the mood strikes."
"Define occasionally." His fingers traced patterns on my bare shoulder.
I turned my head to glare at him. "You're really pushing it, you know that?"
"I'm curious! Sue me." He grinned. "So, which one's your favorite? What gets the most attention?"
"If you must know," I sighed, rolling onto my back, "probably the rabbit. It's efficient."
"Efficient?" He chuckled. "That's such an MBA way to describe a sex toy."
"Oh my god, shut up." I swatted at his chest. "What do you want me to say? That it hits all the right spots?"
Tom raised his eyebrows, fighting back a laugh. "I mean, that's a start. But tell me more about this efficiency metric you're using."
"You're terrible, you know that? This is exactly why you're going to lose this bet."
"Hey, I can be restrained when it matters!"
I burst out laughing. "Oh really? Is that why your hands are currently on my ass?"
Tom jerked his hands away like he'd been burned. "That doesn't count. That's just muscle memory."
"That's your excuse?"
"It's a perfectly valid explanation." He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look dignified despite being naked in bed. "My hands are naturally drawn to certain areas."
"You have zero self-control when it comes to keeping your hands to yourself."
"I'm trying!" He caught my finger before I could poke him again. "Do you know how hard it is to resist when you're around?"
"Try harder, " I said, pulling my hand free. "Soon, you'll have a whole month to practice."
"You're confident about finding that job, right?"
"Absolutely. And watching you squirm for thirty days will make it even sweeter."
His hand started creeping up my thigh again. "You know, technically, the bet hasn't started yet..."
"See?" I swatted his hand away. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. Zero self-control!"
"I'm still trying!" He pouted, looking like a kicked puppy. "You can't blame a guy for making the most of his remaining time."
I couldn't help but laugh at his pitiful expression. "Try all your best, big boy. You're going to need that practice for what's coming."
"Challenge accepted." His fingers traced lazy circles on my hip. "Though I still think you're being cruel. A whole month is practically torture."
"Oh please, it's not like you'll die from it."
"I might." He buried his face in my neck. "Death by sexual frustration. They'll write case studies about me."
"Poor baby." I patted his head. "At least you'll be famous."