Текст книги "Sinfully Mine"
Автор книги: Kendall Ryan
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Unable to hold back, I curl one hand around the back of her neck, pushing myself deeper into her mouth as hot jets of semen pulse from deep within me. The power of the release is unexpected, and normally a silent type, I’m surprised to hear the deep groan that rumbles in my chest, and the sound of her name falling from my lips.
Still blindfolded, and bound, Macey sits mute before me. I tug off her blindfold, and work at untying her wrists, checking to be sure they’re no lasting marks on her skin.
“How’d I do?” she asks, a smirk tugging up her well-used mouth.
Glancing at my watch, I’m shocked to see it’s only been six minutes. Six. That can’t be right. I bring the thing to my ear to make sure it’s still ticking. Huh. Son of a bitch.
Knowing she’s fought hard and won back some of the control I took from her, she smiles. I can’t enjoy her victory, though, because I feel conflicted and confused in a way that I haven’t before following a session. Her smiles fall and she glances around the room.
“Where’s Oliver?”
“He left. A while ago actually.”
She grins again. “Because you wanted me all to yourself?”
Yes. “No. Because I didn’t want him to watch you suck my cock.”
“Oh.” That pretty face is twisted in confusion again.
“Bend over. Place your cheek on the bed, and present your ass to me.”
“Because you’re going to spank me?” she asks.
“Six times,” I confirm, trying to find that businesslike persona I generally assume when teaching a new submissive. But Macey is no submissive, and damn if I don’t love her spark.
Macey gets into position, laying down on the bed so that her cheek is resting on the soft duvet, her knees are bent under her, and her ass is displayed beautifully for me.
“You have a beautiful ass,” I murmur, stroking my thumb over the rosy pink opening. I need to fuck this virgin ass. Soon.
“Thank you, sir.”
Dammit. I’m hard again. Even after my intense release, I’m aching and ready for her. I hate that she has such a powerful impact on me.
Macey relaxes, letting me caress the perfectly rounded globes of her ass, and stroke the forbidden place I want to make mine with tender touches meant to ease her into the idea.
She moans, just a tiny sound, in her throat, but it tells me she’s not entirely opposed to this idea.
With one hand still touching her gorgeous ass, my free hand reaches over to grab my short-tailed flogger, but it feels too stiff and unrelenting in my hand. Strange. It’s normally my go-to toy. Opting to use my bare hand instead, I give her a sharp swat against one fleshy ass cheek. Macey inhales sharply. My handprint on her skin turns pink as the blood rushes to the surface, heightening her experience.
Spanking her twice more in quick succession, Macey flinches, and then groans. It’s the small sound I needed to hear to know she’s not completely hating this.
I soothe her tender skin, running my hand lightly over the surface, my cock is eager, and straining for her, and if I don’t finish this soon, I’m going to fuck her right here, and break every rule I have for myself in the process.
Treating her other ass cheek to the same process—I spank her three times in quick succession, and then rise from the bed. The need to get away from here – to distance myself from her flares up inside of me.
“Take as long as you need. There’s a soaking tub in the bathroom if you’re interested.”
I pull on my jeans, and shrug on my T-shirt as I head for the door.
“That’s it?” Macey calls behind me.
A sour pit turns in my stomach as the inner turmoil rages inside me. I turn and see her rise up onto her knees on the bed, staring at me with a crease between her brows, and a tight-lipped frown.
Normally, there would be aftercare—cuddling, discussion over the session, maybe even sex, but that’s not something I can do with her. Intimacy can’t be part of this agreement, and so aftercare isn’t an option.
“Did you expect something different?” I ask, making sure to keep my tone neutral. She can’t know all the ways she affects me.
But fuck, I can read the hurt and confusion written across her features, and it almost guts me. “I thought . . .” Her voice is shaky, and she doesn’t continue.
I nod once, and continue to the door. I’ll gather up my toys and clean up the room later. I just need to get back to my apartment, wash the lavender scent of her off my skin and pour myself a large Scotch. Then maybe, just maybe, I can get my head straight. She came here wanting to fuck a Dom – not to rekindle our young love.
Closing the door behind me, old feelings of loss and fear rise up inside me. I’ve been trying to remain detached, to forget, if only for a brief time the history we share. Well, that was a fucking fail, because as soon as I got Macey inside that private room, all my careful plans fell to shit. Even having Oliver there didn’t help. It didn’t soften the connection I felt with her, didn’t hinder me from feeling that it was just her and I, Dominant and submissive experiencing the most beautiful thing together.
And then she got her mouth on me, and I came faster than a high school band geek. But really, I can’t blame myself. Watching her touch her sweet pussy pushed me over the edge. I never gave her permission to touch herself, but then again, I never expressly forbid it either. And damn if I didn’t love watching it.
I need to get my fucking shit together, or there won’t be a next time.
Chapter Eight
Reece
“What’s for dinner, honey?” Hale asks, letting himself into my place.
I’m sitting in my favorite leather armchair in the living room with my feet propped up on the ottoman. Hale said he was stopping by tonight, but I didn’t know he’d expect dinner.
“Scotch and M&Ms. Is that cool?” I say, popping another of the colorful candies into my mouth. I have no idea why I thought it was a good idea to buy so much candy last Halloween. A BDSM club gets very few trick-or-treaters, it turns out.
Hale ignores my sarcasm and walks to my bar to pour himself a drink before sinking onto the couch across from me. Once settled, he cocks an eyebrow at me. “Bad day?”
“Something like that.” Macey moved to her apartment today, and when I offered to help, she said that between her brother and Brielle and Brielle’s friend Kirby, they had it covered.
So I sat here and sulked like an asshole all day. I never expected her to stay, but the way she left—so abruptly, so easily, refusing my offer for help without even a backward glance—something about it set me off. The damn woman is independent to her core, and it drives me crazy. I planned to hit the gym and catch up on some work, but I felt unmotivated to do either.
Glancing down at the candies on the table, Hale frowns at me. “Seriously, dude? This is your dinner?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because we’re not thirteen anymore.” He pauses to pick up a piece of candy from the table, looking at it thoughtfully. “Brielle cooks. She makes sure I eat healthy, well-balanced meals. She makes homemade lasagna and chicken primavera. It’s nice . . . having someone who cares enough to cook for you and make sure you’re fed.”
“Don’t tell me how to live my life.” The prick. I guess he hasn’t kicked it old school and dined on candy and hard liquor in a while. His fucking loss.
“Just trying to look out for you is all.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean back. “You guys get Macey settled in today?”
“Yeah. It’s a nice place she found, in a safe area. I think she’s a little worried about how she’s going to afford it without a job, but I cosigned the lease and told her I’ll help if she needs it.”
I nod. Knowing Macey, she’ll find a way to make it all work, without anyone’s help. It’s just the kind of girl she is. God love her.
“How was her mood today?” I’m trying not to be terribly obvious, but the memory of our session is still buzzing through my veins, and I feel guilty I didn’t pay any mind to aftercare. It went against everything I knew as a Dominant, but I was painfully aware I couldn’t handle the level of emotional intimacy that comes along with it.
“What do you mean?” Hale asks, now helping himself to a handful of my candy that’s scattered across the coffee table in a colorful mess.
I shrug, trying to downplay my concern. “Just curious after our session yesterday—”
I don’t get to finish, because he rises to his feet, clenching his fists at his sides. “You fucking went through with that?”
“Of course I did. I told you I was going to.”
“You’re a selfish asshole, Reece. What the fuck?”
Confused, I stand as well. “I thought we both agreed it was better that I introduce her to the scene than some sadistic Dom doing God knows what with her.” Was he smoking crack when we met for lunch that day?
“Don’t you have enough subs on speed dial? Macey’s my sister. Since I apparently didn’t make it clear before, I don’t want you messing around with my goddamn sister.” His voice rises three levels, and if I had any neighbors, I’m pretty sure they’d be able to hear every word.
He said no sexual contact, and apparently he thought that was going to make me scrap the whole idea. Not that I abided by his request anyhow. The visual of Macey’s full lips wrapped around the head of my cock is permanently burned into my brain. And I can’t even find it in me to feel guilty about it. In fact, I want to do that again and again. Shit.
Realizing Hale’s still fuming, still watching me and waiting for an answer, I grab my glass, knowing I’ll need a refill to continue this conversation. “Another measure?” I ask, glancing down at his empty glass on the table.
“Answer the damn question,” he barks.
I walk to the bar and pour myself another. “I’m not seeing anyone right now. Just Macey.”
“You make it sound like an ongoing arrangement.”
Turning back to face him, I try not to flinch when I see the vein in his forehead that only appears when he’s mad. Like fighting mad. Shit. This isn’t what I anticipated when I told him to swing by tonight.
“It is. I promised her three sessions; I just don’t know how she’s feeling about continuing them. That’s why I asked you what her mood was like. She kind of rushed out of here.”
“If you did something . . . if you hurt her, so help me God—”
“I didn’t. I’d never hurt her.” The sincerity in my tone makes him pause, and he looks at me as if he’s looking at me for the first time. For a second, I think he’s going to see straight through me, that he’s going to discover that I’ve held feelings for her all this time. But then he lets out a deep exhale and gestures for me to continue.
“So, what happened?” he asks, pressing his lips together.
I take a swig before continuing. “I didn’t hurt her. I just might have . . . pissed her off. Ended the session earlier than she probably expected.”
“That’s it? You cut it short?” This seems to make him happy, his tight posture relaxing just slightly.
Staring at my glass, I say, “I’m trying to be careful with her.”
I don’t explain that my concern has nothing to do with the fact she’s his sister, and everything to do with protecting my heart. The damn thing got crushed the last time she walked away. I can’t go through that again because this time, it would be much harder. She’s living here, in the same city. I’ll see her at holidays and parties, and fuck, will probably have to watch her get married. All at once I feel like punching something.
“You know my stance on this,” Hale says with a no-nonsense glare. “No good can come of it.”
I give him the nod he’s looking for; he’s one thousand percent right. “Understood.”
He frowns and stands. Then without another word, he makes his way to the door, our conversation and our evening over, it seems. The door closes softly behind him, and I’m alone once again.
Hale and I have never fought. Not once. I’m confused and feeling even more vulnerable than I imagined. When another Dom tells you you’re in the wrong, you stop and take note. Period.
Alone in the quiet solitude of my apartment, I reflect on all the ways I’ve fucked up lately. First Chrissy asking why I’ve never settled down with a submissive, then my murderous feelings toward Oliver when he touched Macey, and now Hale questioning what I’m doing, coupled with my sullen mood after she moved out today.
I look down at my coffee table littered with colorful candies and an empty glass of Scotch. This is like a damn post-breakup pity party. All that’s missing is the ice cream and cheesy romantic comedies. I need to fucking man up. I’m Reece-motherfucking-Jackson. I own Crave—Chicago’s hottest sex club. I deliver the pleasure; I decide the punishments. I can’t let one feisty girl who I used to be hung up on call the shots on our arrangement.
Through my confused fog, clarity emerges. I might have fucked up running from Macey like that yesterday. But in our next session, I will make damn sure I don’t make the same mistake twice. She wants to experience this? Fine. I’ll let her see every ounce of my depraved side and let her decide for herself if she can handle it.
Chapter Nine
Macey
I’m standing in the bathroom, arranging my toiletries on the little shelf above the sink, when my phone rings for the third time.
“Uh. Fine, I’m coming,” I say to no one in particular, stomping across my new apartment to hunt for my cell phone. I find it underneath a pizza box that has sustained me for the last two days. I’m tired and irritable, considering all I’ve done over the past forty-eight hours is unpack boxes¸ scrub floors, wash windows, and stew over the memory of my awkward session with Reece.
When I strutted into his club on New Year’s Eve looking for a good time, I never envisioned what could have happened. The Reece I remembered was a diligent, kind, and thoughtful lover. Not the kind of man to just walk away when it was over, leaving me to unbuckle the ankle restraints he placed me in, feeling confused and alone.
My phone displays a number I don’t recognize.
“This better be important,” I say.
“It is.”
Reece’s deep growl of a voice slams through me, and I have to brace myself with one hand against the counter. “Reece? Where are you calling from?”
“My office phone. You didn’t answer when I called from my cell phone.”
“I’m just in the middle of something. What’s going on?”
“I’m calling about our next lesson.”
He sounds so formal, as if we’re scheduling a dentist appointment together or something. I want to give him a piece of my mind, and I will. But now isn’t the time. I want to be face-to-face with him when I demand an explanation for the way he acted. He owes me that much.
“Okay. What about it?” My cool, detached tone matches his. Two can play at this game.
“Tomorrow. Eight o’clock. We’ll meet in the lounge for a drink first.”
“Fine. See you then.”
I hang up, determined to show him once and for all that I might be submitting, but I’m no pushover. Deciding that I’m done with the unpacking and organizing, I text Brielle.
Hey . . . How about that margarita?
Thirty minutes later, we’re sitting at a little place called the Lettuce Leaf, munching on organic chips and salsa, and sipping peach margaritas.
“I’m glad you texted,” she says, taking another long sip of her icy drink. “Aren’t these heaven?”
“They’re delicious. I think I’m almost ready for another.” I’m drinking embarrassingly fast, but dude, these are amazing. Like orgasms in a cup.
She watches me like she’s looking for clues. “Is something bothering you? You know, other than being cooped up in your new place?”
I shake my head. I don’t know how much to tell her about Reece and me, though she did seem pretty intuitive the last time. Maybe it’s the generous pour of tequila in my drink, but I’m looking across the table at Brielle, with her bright, inquisitive eyes and easygoing dressed-down style that includes a messy ponytail, and decide why the hell not open up to her?
“Reece and I had a session a couple of days ago.”
Her brows rise up on her forehead. “A session?”
“Don’t act so innocent. I know my brother’s a member at Crave, so surely that must mean you’ve been well acquainted with the kink that goes on there.”
She blushes and looks off in the distance. “I always wondered what Reece was into . . .”
“He was intense, unyielding, and when it was over, boy was it over. He just left me in his private playroom and told me to get cleaned up.”
Brielle frowns. “What about aftercare?”
“After what?”
She shakes her head. “Maybe that’s just a Hale thing. Never mind. Continue.”
“I just wanted to have a little fun, you know, blow off some steam, but now I’m questioning if I want to do that again. Sure, it was exciting. My heart was pounding a million miles an hour not knowing what was going to happen in that room, under his skillful hands, I just didn’t expect to feel so . . . unsatisfied at the end.”
Brielle chews on the end of her straw, looking thoughtful. “That’s strange that he was so abrupt about it. You know, Hale says that Reece has never settled down, has never taken on a submissive, almost like he’d had his heart broken and swore off anything serious. Which doesn’t make sense to Hale, because he says Reece never had anything serious enough to end badly. Although he did take his parents’ divorce pretty rough.”
Well, isn’t she just a font of information. It’s interesting about Reece’s supposed lockdown of his heart. I get the sense he’s closed off too. But why? It couldn’t have been my relationship with him. He’s the one who ended things. He could have had me any way he wanted me—geez, I delivered myself on a silver platter, but no dice. Besides, that was a lifetime ago. I’m sure he moved on. Many times.
“I’m not sure,” I say, taking another long sip of my drink while I gesture to the bartender for another. Fuck it; I’ll be taking a cab home anyway.
Brielle clears her throat, her expression thoughtful. “Reece turned to BDSM several years ago, and then opened his club a few years later. I don’t know much of his past beyond what Hale’s mentioned. Sorry I don’t have any juicy gossip. I suck at girl talk.”
I smile at her. “Well, I know something juicy.”
“What’s that?”
The bartender sets down two fresh peach margaritas, and I trade my empty glass for a full one. “He’s hung like a damn horse.”
Brielle chokes on her drink and coughs. “Seriously?”
I nod, a grin twitching on my mouth. “Seriously. That is one gargantuan slab of male virility. It’s like a huge fucking cock.”
“Oh my God.” Brielle is chuckling behind her hand. “He’s what . . . . six foot six?”
“Six four,” I correct. But yeah, he’s a giant. Built, muscular, handsome. And sweet, yet with a dark and troubled side I want to figure out. “And trust me, his cock is proportionate. It’s intimating. I mean, what do I do with that?” Remembering back to the way I made him come so quickly with my mouth, a twinge of pride ripples through me.
“Good luck with that,” she says, still flushed and grinning at me.
• • •
With my shoulders back and my breasts thrust forward, I walk like I’m strutting down the runway at a major fashion show. Confidence exudes from every part of me, and I feel powerful and alive. Now that I know what to expect, I enter the club with more self-assuredness than before. My heels click across the floor as I head straight for the bar.
Spotting Reece at the bar with a Scotch in his hand, I can’t help but remember the lesson he gave me on how to enjoy his favorite drink. He looks handsome but troubled with his broad shoulders pulled forward as he leans over the bar.
I stop beside him and lift myself onto the bar stool.
“What are you craving, sweetheart?” the bartender asks, stopping in front of me.
“One of those, please,” I say, glancing at Reece’s glass of Scotch.
Reece nods in approval as the bartender strolls away and grabs a bottle of Macallan, an expensive aged Scotch.
“Clever line. Is that your doing?” I ask, nodding after the bartender.
“The line? No, I paid a publicity company twenty thousand dollars to come up with that.”
When it’s placed before me, I take a small sip of the drink, letting the burn fade on my tongue before I swallow just like Reece showed me. We sip our drinks quietly, a strange energy burning between us. It’s sexually charged, but there’s something else too—something I don’t quite understand yet, but want to.
“What did you do today?” he asks.
“Nothing much. Ran errands, then I got a manicure.” I wasn’t thrilled about the expense since I’m not working yet, but unpacking chipped my nails all to hell.
He lifts my hand to inspect my nails. “Still black,” he says grimly, as if the dark color is a reflection on my mood.
“Yes,” I answer, though he can plainly see the color hasn’t changed.
The woman I saw in Reece’s office struts past, her lingerie-clad hips swinging. She treats him to a coy smile, and he nods at her. A flash of jealousy flares inside me. I know she must be an employee of the club, but still, it makes me wonder if he has a past with her.
“I’m not here for your little games,” I say, snatching his attention away from her like a little kid grabbing for her favorite toy.
“I thought that’s exactly why you were here,” he says, enjoying another sip of his drink.
Leveling him with an icy stare, I throw the rest of my drink back. “I’m here because I want a good time. And I think you want that too, need it.”
He looks down at the bar. “What are you saying, Macey?”
“No holds barred. If we’re doing this—let’s do it. No cutting out early. No going easy on me. I want the full Reece Jackson experience.” A smile lifts my mouth.
“You sure that’s what you want?”
“Positive,” I say, ignoring the wave of nerves fluttering in my belly.
“Then let’s go.”
Standing, he offers me his hand, and I take it, rising gracefully from the bar stool. Instead of heading for the elevator like before, he leads me to a stairwell that’s deserted and quiet. Nothing but the sound of our footsteps cuts through the heavy silence.
When we reach his private room, we stop in front of the door and I turn to him. “Do you ever do this in your apartment?”
“No.” Reece looks down at me. His expression is impassive, but his tone is harsh. “Do you remember the code?”
I nod, unsure how to feel about the knowledge that he doesn’t bring women to his place. That’s just weird.
“Your birthday.” When I punch in the code on the keypad, the door clicks open to reveal the same quiet, dark, and sensual room I remember, and my heart rate kicks up immediately.
“Undress and wait for me on the bed,” Reece says, his tone sure and steady.
This is Reece the Dominant, and I fucking love it. My belly is tingling with nerves, and I feel alive and eager.
“Yes, sir,” I say, then bow my head and cross the room toward the bed.
After stripping off my jeans, socks, and shirt, I fold everything into a pile and place it on the dresser, leaving my bra and panties in place, remembering that he seemed to enjoy removing those himself last time. The soft sound of classical music comes from overhead, and I turn to see Reece adjusting the settings on a built-in stereo panel on the wall.
I sit on the end of the bed and wait for him. Watching him cross the room toward me is a special form of torture. He’s so handsome and strong, but with an underlying vulnerability that tugs at my heart. I can’t help but recall my conversation with Brielle. There’s a sadness to him I want to chase away.
When he pulls his long-sleeved Henley off over his head, I’m treated to the elaborate ink that decorates his right arm from shoulder to wrist. I haven’t gotten the chance to fully explore it, but I want to. It looks delicious, and I’m eager to trace every inch of it with my tongue.
“You want to see them?” he asks, smirking at me.
“Can I?”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
Taking his hand, I lift his arm. He lets me drink my fill, turning it to see the designs that wrap around his taut forearm and his thick bicep. There’s a quote in what I think is Latin.
“What does it say?”
“It loosely translates to: Chase away the demons.”
Oh.
Dark swirls of gray and black designs decorate his skin, perfectly drawn. Whoever the artist was, he or she was very talented. Nestled within thorns and leaves is a vivid red rose, the only pop of color on the whole piece. It’s on his forearm, near the crook of his elbow, as if it’s been deliberately placed in that sensitive spot. I can’t help but feel this rose has a certain significance to him.
“A rose?” I voice my question, hoping my curiosity will be answered.
“Macey Rose.”
Rose is my middle name, but there’s no way he did this for me . . . is there? My heart is pounding, but before I can say anything more, the moment passes.
Reece leans over and grabs his toy bag. “You said no holding back this time, but I need to hear you say it. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
Swallowing my nerves, I nod.
“Tell me,” he says.
“I want this.”
He’s looking down at me so thoughtfully, and maybe it’s this heavy moment, or maybe it’s the beautiful rose permanently inked on his body that might be for me, but I want to kiss him.
Memories of our first kiss flash through me. It was raining out, pouring actually, and I was hiding behind my parent’s shed as I tried to work up the courage to run toward the house. Reece came to check on me and help me inside. The way the rain had soaked his clothes, making them mold to every hard, muscled plane of his body, was too much. The secret attraction for each other we’d been fighting all summer seemed to boil over all at once.
I can’t remember who made the first move, all I know is that suddenly our mouths were fused together while warm raindrops fell heavily on us. My fingers knotted in his soaked T-shirt while his tongue quested for mine. I remember my pounding heartbeat, and the damp flood of moisture between my legs when his teeth nibbled my bottom lip. His kiss was raw. Primal. And still the best kiss I’ve ever had.
We may be different people now, but that doesn’t stop me from leaning in toward him and placing my palm against his cheek. “Can I kiss you?”
He lets out a long, slow exhale, but doesn’t answer. “Lie down on the bed.”
Confusion rushes through me, but I do as I’m told. Reece’s fingertips skim over my belly, my hips, the pressure so light it tickles. His calloused fingertips are warm against my skin. It strikes me just how perfectly built for each other we are, his strength for my softness. I suck in a breath when he reaches the juncture between my thighs.
“Spread your legs for me. Show me that sweet little cunt,” he says.
His words are so crass, and I’ve never been spoken to like this before, but my body responds immediately. I’m warm all over, and between my legs grows damp.
“Beautiful,” he growls, running the pad of his thumb between my folds, feeling the slick heat that’s just for him.
I part my legs further. All my self-consciousness falls away at the appreciative tone in his voice and the hunger I see reflected in his eyes.
“I’m going to show you how to be a good submissive tonight. How to please me. Would you like that?”
“Yes,” I answer honestly. The idea of pleasing him makes me feel hot all over. Maybe it’s the way his tall, muscular frame looms over me, or that sexy-as-sin sleeve of dark tattoos, but I’m turned on and soaked already.
Shameless. But who cares.
When he removes a length of black rope from his bag, I present my hands to him, placing my wrists together in front of me.
“Good girl,” he says, looping the rope over each wrist and securing them together. Once my wrists are secured, he places them over my head, up near the headboard. “Keep them up here.”
Before I can even wonder what happens next, he lowers himself to the bed between my legs. “Just one little taste,” he says, and before I can prepare myself, his mouth is on me, his tongue licking against my sensitive clit.
My hips shoot off the mattress and I cry out. I want to bring my hands to his hair, feel the soft strands between my fingers, but I keep my arms above my head, wanting to obey him and take the pleasure he’s offering. Something tells me that maybe this is his way of making up for being an asshole last time.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs with his mouth still against me. “I could eat this sweet pussy for hours.”
Yes, please. My hips are circling of their own accord, my breathy moans getting louder and louder, my orgasm getting closer, when he suddenly stops. He fucking stops.
A frustrated groan travels up my throat. I blink open my blurry eyes, trying to focus on him and figure out why for the love of God he’d stop.
“Not yet, princess. I’m just getting started, and you won’t come tonight until I say so.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my raging hormones. “I understand, sir. Tell me how to please you.”
Rising to his knees, he flicks open the button on his jeans and takes out his thick, heavy cock, stroking it in his right hand.
God, that’s sexy. I could watch him do this all night, but after a couple of slow strokes, he stops.
“You want to know how to please me? Turn over on your belly and show me that sexy ass of yours.”
With my heart rate ratcheting up, I roll onto my stomach and place my bound hands underneath me, lying with my knees bent so that my butt is up in the air. I should feel exposed and uncomfortable, but the appreciative murmur in his throat tells me that he fucking loves this view. He’s always been an ass man. I guess some things never change.
“Have you ever done this before?” he asks.
“No, sir.” I’ve never been interested. But with Reece, I find that I am.
I feel him, the heat of his broad body against me. His chest hovers over my back, and his thighs press against the back of mine as he leans over me. I tremble when his lips touch between my shoulder blades as he places a tender kiss there. I wanted to kiss him tonight, even asked him if I could, but it seems this is the only kind of kiss I’ll get. Knowing that, I savor the press of his full mouth against my skin.
“I’m going to fuck this tight, virgin ass. And you’re not going to come until I say so. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I croak. Nervous does not even begin to describe my state of mind. I’m about to tell him there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to come from this when I hear a low hum of vibration.
