Текст книги "Her Web Master"
Автор книги: Normandie Alleman
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Do you think it’s a summer fling?” Shelby asked, then bit down on a colorful bite of salad. She’d invited me for lunch at the Country Club to celebrate the fact that I’d received finalized divorce papers in the mail, and I was happy to accept. That was definitely an occasion for celebration, and I needed someone to talk with about my situation with MC.
I shrugged. “Possibly, but it’s only online.” Peering around to be sure no one was listening to me, I lowered my voice. “Actually, it’s rather kinky.”
This got Shelby’s attention. “Tell me more. When are you going to get together with him? Have you even seen him?”
I took a sip of my iced tea then mumbled, “We don’t really have plans for that.”
Shelby set down her fork. “Wait, what?”
“It’s purely an online kind of thing. They call it cyber-training.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. That must just mean he’s too ugly for words. Honey, you’re screwing around with the Elephant Man. Or a serial killer or something. A guy like that—he’s got something to hide.”
“Now hold on a minute. We don’t know that. He wanted to do things on camera. I was the one who said no to that.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“Because then there could be video of me doing kinky things—naked—all over the internet!”
Shelby bit her lip. “Good point.”
“So it doesn’t mean he’s the Elephant Man. It’s not like he was afraid for me to see him. In fact, he begged to do things over a webcam.” I might have exaggerated a tad when I said that.
“Maybe, but I’m not convinced. There’s something creepy going on here. Most men would die to get in a woman’s pants, especially one as cute as you.”
“He doesn’t know what I look like.”
“Huh. Has he ever asked?”
“Nope.”
“Have you asked what he looks like?”
“No.”
“You guys are weird. Maybe you’re a perfect match.” She giggled, and it was my turn to roll my eyes.
“I can’t help it though. I’m completely infatuated with him.”
“Sounds like it. You know, they did a study that found that the hormones a woman’s body releases after she has sex makes her fall in love with the guy she just banged. I’ll bet that’s what happened to you.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
She shrugged. “I get around. Listen, it’s not like you seem happy with this. I can tell you’re not.”
I sighed. “No, I’m not,” I said, picking up my fork to stab a bite of chicken salad.
“Tell him then. Give him an ultimatum. Tell him you meet in person, or you’ll end it.”
How very Shelby-like to recommend a power play. “That’s not how it works, Shelby. I’m the submissive one in the relationship.”
“And how’s that working for you?” she asked, crunching on a crouton.
“Not so well, I guess.” I wanted to throw my napkin at her, but it wasn’t her fault. Maybe it was time for me to take some responsibility for my own needs and ask for what I want. “But what if he says no?”
“Then it wasn’t meant to be. In your mind, how do you see this ending anyway?”
Suddenly I lost my appetite. That was the question I’d been trying to avoid for weeks. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, you might want to figure it out. Look, you’ve finally gotten rid of that philandering husband of yours. I understand that you need to sow some wild oats, play the field, and all that. Believe me—I get it. But you should do them with a real guy, get it out of your system.”
“I don’t think this guy wants more. He’s happy the way things are.”
“Then you need to find someone else.”
“You’re probably right.”
Shelby flagged the waiter to bring her another glass of wine. “Oh, honey, I’m always right,” she said with a sugary smile.
Later that evening, I was surprised to get a phone call from MC. In the past, the only other time he’d contacted me by phone was that day he texted me while I was at dinner with my parents. Other than that one time, we always communicated via internet to set up a phone conversation. I assumed that was his way of us keeping our boundaries clear, and I followed his lead. It would have never occurred to me to simply call him out of the blue, so I was thrown by his impromptu call.
“Hello? Sir?”
“Yes, it’s me. Hello, Sophie. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. This won’t take long.”
“Okaaaay.”
“I’ve been thinking about your wanting to have a live session.”
“You have?” He was full of surprises.
“Yes, where in the Central Time Zone do you live?” My heart began to soar, and I tried to hold back from getting excited.
“Texas, why?”
“How would you feel if I flew to where you are, and we spent some time together? Had a session in person?”
“Are you serious?”
“I am. What would work best for you?”
“Wow. Um, before the beginning of school would be best. And maybe we could meet in Houston.” The idea of meeting MC in Fort Worth, where I lived, freaked me out. But Houston was only a few hours away. I could drive there, and the airport would be convenient from wherever he was coming from. I probably could stay in a hotel and not see anyone I knew…
“Houston, okay. Is that near where you live?”
“Close enough.” My heart thudded in my chest. Could this be for real? Because now that it was thrust upon me, I realized this could be a very good, or a very bad, idea. What if we met and he hated me? Or I hated him? This could ruin everything.
Or, it could give me exactly what had been lacking from our experiment, or training, or whatever you wanted to call it—the kinky fuckery we engaged in.
“You’ll be flying out of what city?”
“Seattle. I live in the area.”
“But not in Seattle?”
“No, a little bit outside the city. It’s more rural, woodsy.”
“Oh. Sounds nice.”
“It is.”
“Great. Should I find a place for us to stay?”
“That would be nice. Why don’t you make a reservation, and I’ll pay for it. Email me a few dates that are good for you.”
“Yes, sir.” I could hardly contain my excitement.
“It’s nice to hear you so upbeat. I’ve been concerned lately that we were hitting a roadblock in your training.”
“You’re right. I’ve been quite frustrated lately, but I think this will help a ton.” Of course I had my doubts. I knew meeting each other in person could completely destroy everything between us, but I needed it so badly that I couldn’t let on that I expected anything but for this to be the perfect next step in my journey.
“All right.”
“Oh, sir… there’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Well, if you want me to make a reservation, I should probably know your name, in case you get to the hotel before I do.”
“I see.”
Flustered, I forged ahead, babbling, “I mean you know my name, at least my real first name, but if you don’t want to tell me, I’ll understand—”
He interrupted me. “It’s all right, Sophie. My name is Quentin Andrews.”
From the moment he told me his name until the morning I finished packing my bags to drive to Houston, Quentin Andrews consumed my thoughts. He hadn’t balked when I told him which hotel I’d chosen, so I assumed he could afford it. We continued our play sessions, and I had to admit the passion between us felt energized by our upcoming meeting. I no longer fretted over not having a “live” man, and that allowed me to focus enthusiastically on the tasks he gave me. After all, he’d shown me he was willing to give me what I needed—a live experience with a Dom.
I’d considered shopping for some sexy lingerie, but that would probably be a waste. I imagined he would expect me to be naked in his presence most of the weekend. The very thought gave me goosebumps all over. What would he do to me in person? Would it be better or worse than what he had me do to myself? It had to be worse, and in some ways that might be even more delicious. Oh, I was all discombobulated, but for the most part I tried to remain on an even keel and keep my expectations low. If I wasn’t attracted to him, it would be okay. I could always close my eyes and focus on what he did to my body. Surely, that would be acceptable. It was close to how we currently operated.
The day before we were to meet he sent me these instructions, which ratcheted my anticipation up another notch.
Sophie,
If I’ve heard you correctly you have a burning desire to become a bondage fucktoy. That is my specialty, and we can definitely go there. We haven’t practiced much bondage yet, but since we will have a live session this weekend, I am devising an extra-special and intense session for you that will involve several toys. Pack your elastics, your favorite dildo, and a new role of tape.
You are a delicious plaything, and we are moving in the right direction. I look forward to showing you where compliance and bondage can take you. I plan to turn you into a puddled, sweaty mess. As I’m creating this latest session, my lust is fucking boiling, and I can feel my cock starting to harden in anticipation of how helpless I’ll have you. I wonder how much you will whimper all tied up, how well you will absorb the pain, and how many times that fuckhole will collapse with sweet release.
When you arrive at the hotel, take your luggage to the front desk. I will leave instructions for a bellhop to bring it to the room. I’ll meet you in the hotel restaurant at 5:15 p.m. this Friday. I will expect you there at five p.m. sharp, where you will request the table I’ve reserved for us. You will sit with your back to the entrance. You may have a cocktail, but no more than two. I realize alcohol has a tendency to ease one’s nerves, but I want you sober enough to remember every filthy thing I intend to do to you. From the moment we meet, you will follow my directions exactly, addressing me properly as Sir.
Understand?
I hope that cunt is aching for me. I’m looking forward to a weekend with my little play-slut. Remember, for every ounce of pleasure, a price must be paid.
Quentin
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I followed Quentin’s instructions to the letter. I waited as patiently as I could, staying within his two-drink limit, even though I desperately wanted a third bourbon and water. Finally, after all that time wondering about the man behind the MC moniker, he was finally here, sitting next to me, dominating me in the hotel restaurant.
The moment I heard his deep, gravelly whisper, “Close your eyes, my pet,” I came alive. Shivers of anticipation danced down my spine, and his touch when his hand encircled my neck electrified my skin. I pressed against him, shamelessly asking for more, and even though we were in a public place, it was all I could do not to moan out loud.
I inhaled the smell of him, that of a raw outdoorsman, all pine and woods, but clean and fresh at the same time. I could feel the warmth coming off his body even when he wasn’t actually touching me. He’d forbidden me from opening my eyes, so I still had no idea what he looked like.
But he could see me, which was one more way to keep me off balance, and to remind me of how the power differential worked between us. And if that wasn’t humiliating enough, sitting there with my eyes closed, he had just made me suck my own pussy juice from my fingers in a room full of people, so my nerves were frayed. I had no idea if one person had seen me, or if everybody had seen me, or no one at all. I was trying to hold back the hysterical laughter bubbling up at the back of my throat when he told me to open my eyes.
I hesitated, knowing that once I did see him, there was no going back. If he frightened me with troll-like features, I could never go back to picturing him the way I currently did in my mind. If his beer gut protruded so far that I would have trouble finding his penis underneath it—so be it. I reminded myself that it was his mind that drew me to him, his dominant personality. The relationship did not have to change because of what he looked like. In the back of my mind I knew this was bullshit, but I felt compelled to psych myself up somehow.
Just as I started to flutter my eyelids open, I thought about how he had already seen me. He was probably staring at me right now. My stomach did a flip, and I hiccupped. “Excuse me,” I mumbled, covering my mouth, worried I might lose control of all bodily functions right there in the middle of the restaurant. My breath hitched, and he said, “Relax, Sophie. Everything is going to be all right. I will make sure of it.”
I gulped and grabbed on to the arms of my chair, trying to regain my composure. Suddenly it seemed like everything in my life had led up to that moment, and the pressure threatened to vanquish me. It wasn’t so much that what he looked like would change everything, but that having seen each other would alter our lives forever. There would be no going back. No more hiding. No more secrets.
“Take a deep breath, open your eyes, and look at me.” His voice was stern and familiar, which comforted me.
As scared as I was, I decided it was like ripping off a Band-Aid—the quicker the better.
My eyelashes fluttered, and it took me a minute to process my surroundings. First I saw the man sitting next to me, then I looked around, taking in the scene of the restaurant. No one was looking at me. I exhaled, my heart thudding in my ears.
I looked back at the man, and my brain screamed out, This cannot be him! This is not MC! It was exactly like when you go to a movie and the main character is nothing like you pictured in your head—your mind tells you it’s all wrong and it takes half the movie to try to adjust to someone else’s version of the hero.
I took a big glug of the bourbon and water sitting in front of me, glad that Quentin had ordered me a third drink while my eyes were still shut.
Shaking my head, I stared at him again, as if I could adjust my set and the proper picture would appear in front of me. But it didn’t. Instead, I continued to gaze upon a man who would give the sexiest of the Mad Men a run for his money. He was immaculately groomed, with short dark hair. He wore a suit in a time when almost no men wore suits anymore. Certainly not what I would have expected from a composer from Seattle.
This man was too impossibly gorgeous to 1.) Be interested in me. 2.) Be real. 3.) Be a hermit who lived in the middle of nowhere, typing on a computer all day. He looked like the kind of man who should be in Hollywood, or modeling in New York. I had only thought my pussy was wet before. Now a fresh wave of desire flooded my cunt, and to my horror a tiny whimper tumbled past my lips.
He chuckled. “Surprised?”
With a shaky hand I reached for my drink and took a sip while nodding.
He fiddled with the button on his suit jacket, buttoning then unbuttoning it, a sign Adonis was nervous too. That made me feel a little better.
“You’re wearing a suit,” I said, feeling lame as soon as I said it.
“Yes. Definitely not my usual attire, but since this is a special occasion, I thought it appropriate.” His fingers worked the knot of his tie. He looked amazing, but uncomfortable.
“A special occasion?” I asked, still trying to take in his appearance. Long, dark eyelashes framed piercing brown eyes, and those lush lashes were his only feminine feature. His mouth was enticing and his lips looked soft. A strong jaw and wickedly angular cheekbones made him appear stern and serious, which actually suited the MC I knew, but I’d never expected the package to be so altogether gorgeous.
“Yes, Sophie. It’s not every day that I fly across the country to attend to one of my subs in person. In fact, I’ve never done this before, so yes, I considered this a special occasion.”
I cleared my throat. “Oh yes, it is. It is. I thought so too, but I wasn’t sure if that’s what you meant.”
He sighed. “And, do you approve?”
“Of what?”
“Me? The suit? The hotel? All of it.”
The wheels spinning in my head halted. He wanted my approval? That was strange. Perhaps because we were on my turf, so to speak. He was out of his comfort zone, and my heart leapt at the realization that this might be even more difficult for him than it was for me. I’d been too busy thinking about myself and how this would affect me, that I hadn’t thought about what it would be like for him, traveling across country and putting himself in an unfamiliar environment where he wasn’t necessarily in control. He’d done that for me.
It made me want to crawl onto his lap and kiss him hard on those spectacular lips of his. Yes, he was out of my league physically, but for some reason this man had found something in me he liked well enough to come here and be with me in person. I vowed to embrace the whole experience, and worry about the future later. I needed to live in the present.
“You’re perfect. And I love this hotel.” I stopped myself from saying “I love you,” though a part of me wanted to. I didn’t need to send him running screaming out of the room just yet.
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at me. “You are too… perfect that is.”
I made a little snorting noise, which would have made my mother faint on the spot it was so decidedly unladylike.
“Sophie, you are lovely, prettier than I even imagined you would be. But, as you know, it’s not what you look like that interests me.”
My eyebrows rose.
He leaned into me and growled, “It’s how well you can follow my instructions, how hungry and desperate you are to show me what a dirty little whore you are. That’s what matters to me.”
My breathing grew erratic again, and I simply nodded. I did know that, and it made me want to straddle him, run my fingers through his dark hair and take him deep inside me.
“Finish your drink,” he said clamping his palm down possessively on my knee under the table.
“Yes, sir,” I said, eager to be alone with him. I polished off the last of my drink in one gulp, trying to be smooth, but failing miserably as part of it went down the wrong way.
“Slow down.” He patted me on the back as I sputtered, and I thought I saw a twinkle of amusement in his eye. At least I could entertain him.
He flagged down the waiter and asked for the check. He wrote his room number, our room number, on the white slip of paper and set it on the table. “Are you ready to continue your training?”
I managed to nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Very well.” He pushed back his chair, stood, and came over to help me up. His touch jolted me back from what felt like a dream. Suddenly this was very real, and I accompanied this man, who was in some ways a total stranger, to his hotel room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
He wrapped his big fingers around my small ones and led me from the dining room through the lobby. His frame moved with a confident grace I’d only seen in a couple of Shelby’s athletes. He pressed the button with the “up” arrow, and we stood side by side, waiting for an elevator. Though my focus was on him, I couldn’t help but notice how both women and men alike reacted to him as they passed. The women’s eyes followed him with open appreciation, while the men looked past him purposely, or at the ground, pretending they didn’t notice him. But I could tell they had.
I was excited, and I squeezed his hand, dropping any pretense that I was calm and experienced with this sort of thing.
He squeezed back and glanced down at me before returning his gaze to the bank of elevators.
Another couple came and stood next to us, talking with one another. Then another man holding a briefcase joined the group of us waiting for an open car.
When the light above one of the elevators lit up and the doors opened, I took a step forward only to be stopped by Quentin’s outstretched arm. The three other people got on, and as they turned to face us, the man with the briefcase asked, “Going up?”
Quentin favored the elevator occupants with a dazzling smile. “We’ll wait for the next one.”
The man shrugged, the couple went back to chatting, and the elevator doors closed.
“There was room…” I said, then bit my tongue, realizing that he wanted to be alone with me. My knees felt weak and I looked for something to hold on to, but found nothing other than his hand, which I gripped tighter.
He ignored me and the next time one of the elevator doors opened he held a hand out to me in a ladies-first gesture. I got on and walked to the back of the car where there was a bar that I could hold on to if I needed it.
The doors to the elevator closed, and we were all alone. Rather than facing forward as was customary, he stepped toward me, invading my personal space in a way that made me dizzy.
Wanting to kiss him, I leaned in and lifted my arms to embrace him.
To my surprise, he caught one of my arms in the air and clutched my wrist tight. “Ouch!”
With his free hand he pulled my body close to his, holding my other hand behind my back. Looking down at me, he sneered, “You want kisses? You will have to earn them, my dear.”
I huffed indignantly, but a voice in the back of my mind asked, What did I expect? This man and I were not engaged in a romance-and-flowers courtship. In fact, quite the opposite was true. My purpose was to serve him, to submit to him. There would be no changing the rules here with this man.
I tried to center myself and remember what to do. His handsome looks swept me off my feet, and for a moment downstairs I felt like the heroine in a romance novel, instead of the sex slave I’d agreed to be in real life.
“Sorry, sir.”
Pressing on my shoulder, he forced me to my knees before turning and pressing a button that halted the elevator. When the elevator creaked to a stop, panic set in. If the elevator ceased to run, the hotel would have people working to fix it. In a matter of minutes, they would be overrun by workers trying to get the elevator operational again. The hotel staff would probably know they did it. How embarrassing! Really, they needed to get to their room where they could be alone together in private.
“Hands behind your back,” he said, as I knelt on the floor. His voice was mild, which helped calm me.
“Quentin!” It was the first time I’d said his name aloud, and I hated that it was said in protest.
“Sophie,” he said my name with an exasperated sigh, and my heart sank. We were off to a bad start. “If you don’t want to do this…”
I pictured him getting off the elevator at the next floor and walking out of my life forever. Desperation sprang up inside me and I blurted out, “I’m sorry, Sir.” And I clasped my hands behind my back.
I tried to quiet the pounding of my heart by clearing my mind and staring straight ahead like a robot. Don’t feel, just obey. Ignore everything but him. Trust him.
He placed a hand on my head, not exactly petting me like a dog, but reminding me my place was beneath him. On my knees. My pussy creamed, and I licked my lips as I heard the zipper to his pants.
“Open your mouth.”
It was a simple command, and I obeyed. Before I knew it, he’d opened the front of his pants, and his cock sprang through the hole in the front of his underwear. Suddenly my mouth went dry and I had to close it to swallow. I opened it again quickly, but instead of giving his cock to me, he slapped me on my cheek with it.
A surge of frustration and desire rushed to my groin. I pushed my tongue forward, hoping he would let me at least lick him. I wanted to taste him.
Another slap, first on the same cheek, then the other. I groaned.
“You’re such a greedy girl.” He held the beautiful mushroom head of his cock centimeters away from my mouth, so that I could tilt my head forward and lick it. A tiny bead of pre-cum topped the head and I slurped it up. “I like that about you.” He pushed his cock toward my face, and with his fingertips guiding me, slid it between my lips.
Hungrily, I devoured him, my mouth quickly filling with saliva as I worked the underside of his shaft with my tongue. His hips pressed into me, fucking my face at whatever pace he chose. I relaxed my throat as best I could so I could take more of him. When his prick hit the back of my throat I heard him make a strangled noise that I interpreted as positive reinforcement.
One thrust went too far, igniting my gag reflex. A chilly tremor rankled through my body and my nipples hardened with a ferocity that made my breasts cry out to be touched. I heard him chuckle and go deep again. My throat accommodated him this time, but soon I struggled to breathe.
At the very moment I was gasping for air, it occurred to me that the elevator would more than likely have cameras installed in it. I pictured the hotel staff gathering around watching Quentin fuck my throat, with me on my knees, worshipping his cock. I imagined the onlookers high-fiving each other, and I made a squeaky noise of protest as my Master continued to take my mouth and use it for his own pleasure.
The experience made me feel, at the same time, humiliated and more turned on than I’d ever been in my life. A part of me wanted him to stop, wanted to never have agreed to do this in a public place, but the part of me that took over wanted to be his slut, wanted to be taken by him whenever and wherever he saw fit. I liked giving the control over to him and letting him use me like this. It gave me a high that doing what was expected of me never had.
“I’m going to shoot my load down your throat, you little bitch.”
I managed a slight nod, but I felt weak again, dizzy with lust, and I let go of my hands behind my back and dug my fingers into his thighs, holding tight to steady myself.
His legs were muscular and solid as tree trunks. I clung to them, and when I felt his seed coursing through his penis and finally down the back of my throat, I felt a peace and happiness that I’d never experienced before.
He pulled out an inch or two. “Clean it.”
I lovingly laved my tongue around his softening penis, licking and swallowing every drop of cum on him, which wasn’t much because he’d deposited most of it deep at the back of my throat. What there was tasted salty with a hint of sweet, precisely what I would have expected to come out of him.
Removing himself from my mouth he tucked his dick back in his underwear and his shirt back in his pants. Then he pressed a button on the elevator that made it start moving again.
I wiped my hand across my mouth, trying to clean myself up, then I tapped him on the leg and stretched out my hand for him to help me to my feet.
He winked at me. “You stay right there, princess.”
Before I could process what he was saying, we went up two floors and the door opened. Two businessmen stood in front of us, arms crossed, waiting for the elevator. When they saw me on my knees, their eyes lit up and I saw one of them bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud.
My face felt like it was on fire, and when Quentin turned and offered me a hand I considered not taking it, but struggling to stand up on my own after rejecting his help would only make me look even more foolish. I took his hand, stood up as straight as I could and said, “Thank you.” Looking past the men, I kept my eyes forward, and without saying another word, followed Quentin to the hotel room.
Even the way he inserted and pulled back his key card had a sexual undertone to it, and I wondered if he had perverted my brain for life. “Come in,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just humiliated me in public.
I crossed over the threshold into the hotel room, which was beautiful and luxurious, all clean, modern lines and muted colors. Standing with my arms crossed over my chest, I asked, “What the hell was that back there?” I hooked a thumb in the direction of the elevator.
“To what are you referring?” The opaque look on his face made me want to punch him.
“The way you wouldn’t help me up off the floor. You wanted me to be humiliated, wanted those men to see me, to know that I ‘serviced’ you in that elevator.”
“So what if I did?”
“Ugh! You’re such a perv! And you know that they probably have cameras in there. There are probably people who work in the hotel, watching that right now and laughing.”
He arched a brow. “The cameras. I hadn’t thought of that, but that adds a nice touch, doesn’t it?”
I glared at him.
“As for being a perv, that’s old news. In fact, I was under the impression that was what you liked about me. Come here.” He beckoned me with his index finger.
Slowly, I plodded toward him, a frown on my face.
He took me in his arms, the way I had wanted him to when we were first alone in the elevator. He positioned my arms around his neck then held me around my waist, and even though I’d fantasized about this moment a thousand times, the real thing felt so much better. “What do you think those men thought when they saw you on your knees?”
“That I was a slut.”
“And?” His voice was a velvet whisper against my ear. His hot breath made me strain against my clothes. I wanted them off, wanted nothing between the two of us.
“I don’t know,” I hedged.
“Yes, you do. Don’t be lazy. You don’t need to be coy with me. What else were they thinking?” he demanded.
“They wished they could fuck my mouth.”
“Good girl. That’s right. They were thinking how lucky I was to have a beautiful girl like you on her knees, sucking me off in an elevator. How they wished it was their cocks in your throat.”
“Yes.” I knew my pussy was dripping now, and my nipples strained against my bra.
He reached up and pinched one of my nipples hard, and I whimpered with a combination of pleasure and pain.
“See? Doesn’t it feel good to embrace your inner slut?” he growled.
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t you like knowing there are men out there who are probably going to jack off to thoughts of you tonight, if they haven’t already gone to the bathroom and done it already?”
On one level, the thought sickened me. It was sleazy and crass and disgusting, but on a deeper, more primal level, the thought of starring in men’s fantasies made me hot. How could he know me so well? How could he possibly know these depraved corners of my mind? I certainly didn’t tell him that. How could I, when I hadn’t even realized it myself?
“I didn’t hear you,” he warned.
“Yes, I like it.”
That seemed to appease him for the moment. “Good girl. I think you’ve been so good that you earned those kisses you wanted.” Then he dipped his head and planted those gorgeous lips of his on mine.
I was so aroused that I thought that almost anything he did now would make me come, so I dug my fingers in his dark hair and kissed him back.
