Текст книги "Playing Hard to Master"

Автор книги: Sparrow Beckett

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter Eight

“This is the act of a desperate man.” Kate laughed as she followed them up the stairs.

“When you meet her you’ll understand.” Ambrose grunted and hefted his end of the desk.

Banner almost dropped the other end, but caught it before it hit the metal stairs. “If a girl is the one, Trouble, a guy will go to ridiculous lengths to win her.” He and Ambrose exchanged glances, and Kate grimaced.

“You just wanted to stick your dick in me.” Kate snorted.

“Yes,” both men replied.

Banner growled. “I’ll drop this fucking desk on your foot, you bastard.”

“Oh, like that was a big fucking secret.” Ambrose rolled his eyes and shuffled backward when he got to the top of the stairs. If Banner thought any straight man on the face of the planet didn’t want to fuck Kate, he was a moron. “Things happen for a reason though. For me, I think Everly might be that reason.”

They moved into the main loft area and set the desk down to rest for a minute. “This fucker is heavy. There’s no way you’ll break this one.”

“Break it? You’ve broken desks before?” Kate asked.

“You don’t want to know.” Banner raised his eyebrows at his wife, and she blushed. How Kate could still be blushing after hanging out with them so long was a mystery, but it was also adorable. “Wow. This place is a complete shit hole, Ambrose. She might leave your ass so she doesn’t end up having to support you.”

Ambrose shrugged, looking around the rough space. He’d signed the lease only this morning, and managed to get everything else in without help, but the desk was too heavy.

It was more of a warehouse than an apartment, but it was warm, and he liked the open feel to it. There was a lot of room to cook, too, especially now that his new stove, fridge, table, and chairs had been delivered. There was a TV and a couch, too, but he’d been careful to choose things that made it look like he had a modest income. The bed was tucked into a corner, and he’d been hard-pressed not to buy top-of-the-line linens for it. Maybe having money was starting to make him a little snobby about some things.

They moved the desk into a big, empty space in the center of the room, and Banner walked around it. “This might be too much of a message, having it front and center here, don’t you think? And did you bring anything to put in the drawers or in your closet?”

Ambrose gestured to a stack of boxes piled off to one side.

“It smells like new furniture in here.” Kate shook her head. “What are you going to do about that?” She laughed.

“Well, I’m cooking dinner, so hopefully that’ll disguise it.”

“Why don’t you just tell her the truth? This is crazy.”

Ambrose frowned, guilt niggling at his conscience. “I just can’t, Kate. Not yet. If she finds out now that I’ve got money, she’ll write me off in a heartbeat. I have to make sure it’s safe to tell her before I out myself.”

Banner grabbed a cardboard box and opened it, then peered inside. “Poor little guy, embarrassed to tell his girlfriend he’s rich. That must suck.” He pulled a couple of coats out of the box. “At least you didn’t have to go out and buy thrift-store clothes for this. Your stuff already looks like crap. What millionaire wears a coat that he sewed back together with fishing line?”

“Ambrose! I told you to throw that out like three months ago.” Kate tsked at him, but took the coats from Banner and hung them on the hooks by the stairs. “You need a woman to keep you in line.”

Ambrose arched a brow at Banner, but his friend only shrugged. “You’re not Kate’s Master. She doesn’t have to kiss your ass. You want respect, you’d better earn it from Beverly.”

“Everly,” Ambrose corrected.

“I knew that.” Banner waved his hand dismissively.

Boxes of cutlery and kitchen implements went into drawers, clothes were unpacked, books went on a shelf. A few files, a stapler, and some BDSM equipment went into the desk drawers. He put his laptop on top of the desk to make it look less like a porn prop. Mismatched throw pillows went on the couch, and he and Banner mounted the TV on the wall while Kate made up the bed.

“Don’t make it look too perfect, Kate,” he warned. “Make it look like a man made it.”

She snorted. “Well, I could throw the pillows on the floor and shove all the blankets off to one side. That would make it look more realistic.”

“I don’t want her to think I’m a slob either.”

“I’m sorry to have to let you in on this horrible secret, but you are a slob.” Banner clapped him on the shoulder.

“Fine. Make it so it looks like I’m a slob on my best behavior, then.” He sighed. “I told her I spent the morning cleaning.”

“When is she getting here?” Banner put the TV box with a stack of other boxes he’d agreed to take away with him.

“Two hours. I guess I’d better get the food in the oven soon.”

“What are you making?” Kate asked eagerly.

“I’m doing stuffed chicken breasts with a pesto cream sauce.”

Kate clapped her hands and grinned. “Let me know how it turns out! If it’s good, I want the recipe.”

“Oh dear God. They’re food nerding again,” Banner said to no one in particular. “Are you going to put anything on your walls? I mean, I know you’re going for this roughing-it look, but it doesn’t even look like you live here. No plaster lions out front, and now bare walls. Don’t you have an extra fluorescent beer sign you can put up?”

“There’s a mirror. I wasn’t sure where to put it.”

Banner found the big, ornately framed mirror, and, without asking Ambrose, he hung it on the wall over the bed.

“Classy,” Ambrose grumbled.

“Oh, like you would have hung it anywhere else. Unless on the ceiling above the bed was a possibility.”

All three of them looked up, but the roof was a long way off.

“No blackboard?” Kate asked innocently.

“Mmm . . . I really should get a blackboard,” Ambrose agreed.

“Don’t encourage him, woman!” Banner narrowed his eyes at Kate. “He doesn’t want to fuck this up. Let the poor girl get to know him a bit before she finds out how much of a pervert he is.”

“If she isn’t a pervert, she doesn’t deserve him.” Kate stuck her tongue out at Banner, and Ambrose politely turned away to prep dinner while Banner dealt with her. The giggling and gasping coming from behind him sounded like she didn’t mind the funishment in the slightest.

“Just fuck her over there somewhere.” He waved them toward the living room area. “I need the table to get dinner ready. There’s always the basement, but there’s no furniture down there.”

“I should find a piece of cardboard to throw down on the basement floor and remind her of what happens when slaves sass their Masters.” Banner growled.

The sound of Kate’s whine reminded Ambrose of the noises Everly made for him at the restaurant earlier, and of the way she’d melted against him when he’d kissed her outside her shop. He glanced at his watch. Had it been two hours yet? Could he order her here sooner?

“I think we’re going to go now,” Banner murmured. “Before this gets out of hand.”

“I’m going to have to get a spray bottle to squirt you with when you start groping her in front of people. You’re married now. Isn’t the sex supposed to stop?” When he looked up, Kate was wearing her leather collar and looking up at Banner contritely. He must have had her play collar in his coat pocket.

For the first time in a long time, Ambrose wasn’t envious of what they had together. Instead, he imagined what Everly would look like in that style of collar. Brattier, he guessed.

And so fucking hot.

He’d been up late the night before, browsing collars on Etsy instead of working, but he kept having to take breaks because the idea of her wearing his collar was making him crazy. She would never be a good girl for him—not without him catching her off guard or blowing her mind—but that suited him just fine. Girls that were chronically good were boring.

“We’re leaving. Unless you need help with something else?” Banner’s eyes were gleaming, as though Kate was still all new and shiny and he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

“No, if you get rid of those boxes for me, I’m all set. Go get your fuck on.”

Banner nodded to him cordially and grabbed Kate by the hair. “We might even make it out of the parking lot first.”

*   *   *

The candles he’d lit around the space, as well as turning off the lights, did wonders for his new apartment. He’d fed her, and now they were relaxing on the couch, watching a movie. It was possibly the most relaxed but ready for action he’d ever been on a date.

“You have to quit feeding me so much,” Everly groaned.

“Food is all I have going for me.” He smiled and switched to massaging her other foot.

She sighed and melted against the armrest. “And massages. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were trying to get me into your bed. Or would that be too inappropriate for one of your students, Professor?” She gave him an innocent smile and buttoned her blouse up, as though flaunting her cleavage throughout dinner had been an accident.

The hem of her skirt had ridden up, and she tugged it down modestly, just as he was starting to think he was going to get a glimpse of what she was wearing underneath. Sexy, sweet, or nothing at all—he couldn’t decide which would be more of a turn-on. Even her smoothing her skirt down was doing it for him.

“I don’t think it’s that odd for a professor to want to get to know his students,” he said, playing along. “We’re all adults, after all. There’s no reason to treat you like a child.”

“No, Sir.” Everly pulled her foot away and slipped her black flats back on. “Actually, I needed to ask you something.” She slid the tip of her finger between her lips and sucked on it, and for a painful moment his dick seized his full attention and he forgot to answer her.

“Uh . . . yes?”

“Well, as you know, my grades on your assignments haven’t been very good. I’m not sure why, Sir. I seem to be doing pretty well in my other classes. I was just wondering if . . .”

He cleared his throat because he was pretty sure his heart was beating in it. “If what?”

“If there was anything I could do for extra credit?” She twirled her finger in her hair and blinked at him.

“Well, I doubt that. I’m a bachelor, so I don’t have much that needs doing. What do you have in mind?”

There was a hint of mischief in her eye, but she masked it. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I could . . . polish your silverware?” She bit her lip and he struggled to squelch the laugh that threatened to escape.

“My silverware? Do I look like I have silverware?”

“Maybe not, Sir. But what else could I do for you? I’d do almost anything.”

“Almost?”

She stood and moved to stand in front of him. The flash of bare thigh he saw past the sway of her skirt fascinated him. He wanted to put his mouth there, taste her, and maybe mark her.

“Yes, Sir. There are some things good girls like me won’t do.”

He’d see about that.

“Come with me.” He took her hand, and she hesitated before letting him lead her to the desk.

“You want me to do paperwork for you, Sir? Filing?”

He moved his laptop onto the counter. “Lean over the desk.”

She gasped, then swallowed hard. “But why?”

Inside him, something sinister sat up and growled.

“When I saw you at lunch, you had quite the sassy mouth on you.”

She hung her head. “I’m sorry, Sir. I was so upset about my grade that I kept saying the wrong thing. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Her expression turned hopeful.

“Lean over the desk, Everly. That’s two. If I need to ask again, you’ll just be making things worse for yourself.”

Something clicked. He could see it behind her eyes.

“Well, what if I don’t want to lean over your desk?” She tilted her head in challenge.

“I don’t recall giving you the option of disobeying me.” He wrapped his hand around her arm.

“Heyyy! Let go!”

He spun her around and shoved her down over the desk. She tried to rise, but he pinned her down with one hand and lifted the back of her skirt with the other.

“Spoiled little girls like you need to learn to mind their manners.”

“No!” She tried to hide her simple white panties with her hands.

He groaned aloud. Between the modest underwear and the feigned reluctance, his pants were getting uncomfortable. That and the fact that Everly had the sweetest fucking ass he’d ever seen.

He grabbed her wrists and fought her hands down until they were wrapped around the opposite side of the desk. “Hang on like this, Everly, or you’re not going to like what happens.”

“I’m not?” she asked anxiously.

“No.”

He let go of her hands and her fingers stayed obediently where he’d placed them.

With no need to hold her down, he lifted the back of her skirt again, draped it up on her back, and stood there staring for a moment. Would it be horribly rude to gawk at her and jerk off on her ass? Probably.

He hooked his fingers into her panties and slid them down slowly, inch by painful inch.

She whispered something he couldn’t hear, but the tone sounded embarrassed and aroused.

“What are you doing?” she whined.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, so you need to be punished.”

“Nooo. I won’t do it again. I promise.” She squirmed but didn’t let go of the desk.

Ambrose opened the drawer and took out the strap he’d made to use on her. Fuck the store-bought shit. He preferred his own handiwork.

She was studying him, and when she caught sight of the strap she grimaced. “Aw, fuck.”

“Language, young lady.” He tapped her luscious ass with the leather, and she froze in place. “For your sass earlier today, you’re going to get twenty. Understood?”

The drone of the television in the background would have covered most noise she made, but they were in the middle of nowhere and she could scream her head off without anyone else hearing a thing. Was it creepy that it turned him on?

“Twenty? But I won’t have any skin left!”

“Then maybe you should have thought about that beforehand.” The sadist in him was wondering how much he could punish her before she begged for mercy. He imagined her sweet round ass rosy and her voice high and pleading. He had to close his eyes and calm his breathing. Going into a punishment too excited was a novice mistake.

Ambrose put the strap in front of her face. “Kiss it.”

She glared at him, and he grabbed her by the hair and shoved the strap in front of her mouth. For a moment she melted, kissed the strap, and whimpered. His adrenaline spiked, and he readjusted his dick, which was urging him to forget this punishment business and fuck her already.

Patience.

Ambrose delivered the first five before she finally went up on her toes. Admittedly, he was starting off light, but he was deeply enjoying the way her ass jiggled and the way she gasped with each stroke, trying not to get more turned on, even though he could see her arousal glistening along her slit.

“Flat on your feet, young lady.”

“Sorry, Sir,” Everly whispered. She looked over her shoulder at him, and her sultry expression came close to making him forget what he was in the middle of doing.

She was getting cocky because he was being nice. Of course. Brat.

That was the end of her warm-up.

The next two were hard. She gasped in surprise and wriggled for him, but moaned and leaned into him when he ran his hand over the welts. Not good enough.

He picked up his pace and increased his force. Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve.

Everly was screeching and writhing now.

“Ow, ow! Please, Sir. I’m sorry. I’ll be good!”

Thirteen, fourteen.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she babbled.

Fifteen.

“I doubt you’re sorry enough to satisfy me.”

Sixteen.

“Please, Master. I won’t sass you anymore!”

Seventeen.

“This one is for lying.”

Eighteen was especially hard. She shrieked, dancing up on her toes.

“Fuck!”

“Tsk, tsk. Such obscene language from such a wholesome girl.”

Nineteen. Twenty.

“Please, no more.” She sobbed. “Please, no more, Master.”

Her ass was fiery red and hot to the touch. Poor baby. As for Ambrose, he had a raging hard-on, and he was really hoping she’d sass him and give him a reason to keep going. He paced for a moment, unable to calm himself down. He felt like he could run a marathon and have energy left to fuck her senseless. There was something about her reactions that provoked his natural sexual aggression. Good thing she liked that. Yet another reason he couldn’t mess around with vanilla girls.

She stayed where he’d placed her. Was she waiting for a command from him, or just recovering? Unable to resist, he dropped to his knees and kissed her welts, loving the way it made her pant and nervously clench her ass.

“What’s the matter?” He bit a welt and she squeaked in dismay.

“I just . . . I’m not comfortable with that.”

“With what? Me playing with your ass?” He grabbed some lotion out of the drawer. And sat down in the desk chair, then coaxed her, belly-down, over his lap. “We’ll work on that. First, though, I’m going to take care of your poor bottom. If you weren’t such a bad girl, I wouldn’t have to be so rough with you.”

“That wasn’t fun. Well, not the end of it, anyway.”

Ambrose made a soothing noise, then poured lotion into his palm, warmed it between his hands.

She sighed and relaxed against his lap just as he pinned her mid-back with one hand and smeared the lotion over her ass cheeks with the other. If she thought he was being nice, she didn’t know him very well.

He rubbed it in more thoroughly, and a second later she hissed and started to squirm.

“Stop, stop! It’s making it sting worse!”

“Yes, I know, little girl. Just because the strapping is done doesn’t mean your punishment is over.”

“But it stings!” Her bottom turned redder, if that was possible. He ran gentle fingers over the redness. Everly squirmed and bucked, pressing her legs together and trying to get away from the sensation.

“You’re a jerk!” she hollered at him, wriggling and glaring at him over her shoulder.

“Usually,” he agreed.

He held her there and watched her process the sting, pleased by every plaintive whine and movement. Her panties had slid all the way off, and he coaxed her to spread her legs so he would have a more interesting view of her pretty pussy and the little pucker of her asshole.

“Come on, princess. Get up on my desk, and we’ll see if there’s something you can do to improve your grade.”

Chapter Nine

“That punishment wasn’t enough?” Heart sinking, she climbed off his lap and winced.

He helped her up onto the desk, but sitting right now was the last thing she wanted to do. Her ass was on fire and she didn’t like the wolfish grin on his face.

“No, no. That was your punishment for what happened before. Now you need to pay up.”

Everly tried to read his expression, but came up blank. The man had a good poker face. She just hoped there wasn’t more of that evil lotion. “What do you have in mind, Sir?”

Ambrose didn’t answer, but slowly unbuttoned her blouse, exploring every bit of skin he exposed with his fingers and mouth. He sucked on her clavicle, bit her shoulder, kissed her neck, until she was breathless.

“But, Professor! What are you doing?”

“Tasting you.” He stripped off her top, unfastened her bra¸ threw them both on the floor, and shoved her down onto her back. The skirt was next.

So much for staying in costume for him. She’d gotten the right response though. The strapping had felt a little extreme at the time, but the way he’d made her take it, and the stinging heat it left now, were conspiring to make her want to submit deeper to him. But making it easy just wasn’t her style. She hid her breasts with her arm, and her pussy with her hand, and looked at him coyly. “But how is my being naked going to help?”

He reached into the desk drawer again, and Everly just managed to avoid craning her neck to see what was next.

She’d hated the damn strap. Almost enough to orgasm.

Running and hiding was an option, but he hadn’t done anything she wasn’t secretly okay with. Yet.

Ambrose thumped a bottle down on the desk beside her. Massage oil? He opened the bottle, and she caught the faint scent of coconut.

“No more lotion!” She tried to dart away, but he caught her with an arm around her waist.

“Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “This won’t hurt you. I promise. It’s coconut oil.”

Reluctantly, she let him steer her back to the desk. “But how is that going to help me earn a better grade, Professor? Do you have a crick in your neck you need me to fix?”

“I’ll give you a crick in the neck.” He smiled and wrapped a gentle hand around her throat.

Even though he was making a dumb joke, the feeling of it made her shudder, and her eyelids flitted closed.

“Are you mine?” he whispered in her ear.

Her breath caught. “Yes, Master.” Was this part of the role-play?

He hummed with satisfaction and bit her ear just enough to send sparks of lust through her.

“I’m going to give you a massage, because I enjoy the texture of your skin.”

She eyed the oil askance. “And that’s payment enough?”

He snorted. “Of course not. We’ll see where things go from there.”

When she was stretched out on her back, a towel under her and another folded under her head, he spread oil over her skin and started to work out knots she didn’t know she had. In no time, she was so relaxed it felt like subspace.

Everly’s mind buzzed, but her body felt like it was asleep and having the best possible dream. Ambrose tugged at her nipples with his slippery fingers, making her squirm. He parted her legs and massaged her thighs, then moved upward, spreading oil along her labia and then nudged between them to oil her clit. He rubbed it between his fingers, trapping it, holding her open and exposed while he made little light circles over it with the fingers of his other hand. He teased her until she was gripping the desk with clawed hands and her hips were thrust as high as she could go, silently trying to convince him to let her come.

Two fingers wedged up into her slick entrance, and she wondered how much of that slickness was his oil and how much was just her. He leaned down and flicked his tongue over her sensitized nub.

“Oh God, Ambrose. Please let me come.” Fuck, begging for it was just turning her on more.

“I will, sweetheart. But not yet. You can wait, can’t you?”

She wanted to scream and cry and have a fit. Evil man! But the desire in his pretty blue eyes made her want to please him more than herself.

“O-okay.” Why was she agreeing? Maybe if she said no he would have gotten her off right away. She was so damned close.

“Good girl.” His approval was so thick he could have fucked her with it. “You’re such a good girl for me, Everly.”

“Good enough to get a reward?” she ventured.

“Soon, baby. Come on, turn over for me.” He urged her to turn over, then positioned her so her arms were down by her sides and her legs were spread. She didn’t complain. She needed to come so bad it hurt.

Ambrose lifted her hips and wedged a pillow under her.

“Mmm. Your poor, sweet ass is so red.” He spread oil on her back, over her ass, and down her thighs and calves, then started to work on the knots on that side.

“A mean man beat my hiney,” she mumbled in a baby voice.

He chuckled, tracing what were probably welts back there. It tickled and made her jump. She tried to draw her legs back together, suddenly feeling shy that he had a front-row view of everything she owned.

Without hesitation, he moved her legs back where he wanted them. “No, Everly. You need to stay where I put you.”

The correction made all of her subby instincts turn her into putty. Just words. He didn’t need to smack her to make his point. His command was enough.

He worked the knots out of her shoulders until she was pretty sure she’d drooled on the towel. Maybe that was the real reason it was there.

Her back was next, then her ass. Although the area felt bruised, he was gentle enough that she didn’t complain. Her thighs and calves followed. When he’d finished there, her whole body felt pliant, but also like she was floating. His fingers wandered up her thighs, and he caressed her ass, moving gradually closer to the cleft. She clenched.

He kissed her shoulder. “Shh. It’s okay, Everly. I know someone hurt you here, but I’ll take my time.” One of his hands closed over the back of her thigh. A finger strayed into the divide and tickled its way down, skipped over her bottom hole and moved on to her clit. He caught it between two fingers and rubbed it until she was begging again, then he brushed his finger back up to her asshole. He touched her there gently, carefully, rubbing around it, over it, getting her used to him accessing whatever he wanted.

“When I play with you, your whole body is mine, isn’t it, baby?”

“Yes, Master.” She whined. “Please let me come, Master.”

He groaned and grabbed a possessive handful of ass cheek. She gasped.

“You make me crazy.”

“I’m not sorry.”

Instead of being upset, he chuckled. More oil dripped down the crack of her ass, making her groan as the coolness met her overheated skin.

His slick finger traveled back and forth over her asshole, and eventually she couldn’t stay tensed against him anymore. He played with her clit and applied pressure to her anus. She covered her eyes as she felt her body give up its fight and gradually let his coaxing finger in.

“That’s a good girl,” he crooned. “Look at that. It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No, Master,” she mumbled into the towel. He planted several kisses on the globes of her ass, and it gave her the shivers. “But it feels strange, and I’m embarrassed.”

“I know, pretty girl. But you’re doing what I want, so you should feel proud of yourself.” He started to fuck her ass with his finger. It made her horny and squirmy, but she didn’t dare move. “Damn. You’re so tight.”

Why did it feel so good when he did it? She could never tell him. The unfamiliar, invasive sensation made her clit feel even more swollen and needy, and her pussy begged for the attention he was paying her ass. Pressure built in her lower belly, and what felt like seconds later she was coming, hanging on to the desk as the waves of pleasure and discomfort threatened to overwhelm her. More oil, and a second finger slowly joined the first, feeling like he was opening her impossibly wide. Even though it was uncomfortable, he convinced her it wasn’t so bad by toying with her clit. He fingered her ass through a second wicked orgasm.

She was limp and dazed from coming, yet somehow still frustrated and wanting. His fingers withdrew slowly, moving in ways that made her sob. He dragged her down the desk, until her hips were at the edge and her legs dangled, her toes just touching the floor.

“I’m going to try to fuck you here now, okay? If it hurts too much, you tell me and I’ll slow down, or we’ll stop and try again some other time.”

At that point all she was capable of was whimpering.

“Is that okay, Everly, or should I stop now?”

He wanted a definite verbal yes? Could this be any more embarrassing?

“You can try, Master, but I don’t think you’ll fit.”

The tip of his cock slipped against her immediately, and the warmth and dominance of what he was planning to do made it hot instead of scary. Ambrose didn’t rush things, she reminded herself. Ambrose was careful and patient.

“Try to relax and push out,” he murmured. He was easing into her so slowly it was like he didn’t care if it took a decade. The one guy who’d done it before had taken her by surprise, without making sure she was ready. It’d hurt, and she’d never really trusted him again after that. With Ambrose, she found herself getting horny and impatient, and pushing back against him.

His dick felt like a huge metal bar, but his appreciative groans and swears as he broached her made the discomfort worth it. She breathed through it, trying to convert the ache to pleasure. He pulled out and slicked himself with more oil, reclaimed the inch he’d gained. It felt like every hair on her body was standing on end. Gradually, he was persuasive enough to convince her body to take every bit of him. When he’d made it all the way in, he stroked her back and her thighs, giving her time to get used to the ridiculous amount of dick in her ass. He moved, and she felt helpless and fragile.

Ambrose covered her with his body, making her feel safe. He kissed her neck and behind her ear, and groaned when she shifted happily beneath him. This she could stand. This she might learn to love.

“You’re such a good girl for me, Everly. I know that hurt a little, but now that I’m in, it’s not so bad, is it?” He bit her shoulder and she gasped, then squirmed beneath him. He eased out a bit, then pressed back in, moving in small ways to loosen her ass’s death grip on his cock.

“I don’t like it, Master,” she lied. She whimpered, and she swore his dick grew bigger.

“Mmm. That just makes it hotter.” He pulled farther out and back in, still gentle, but moving faster now. The sensation took her breath away, and her toes dug against the wooden floor. It felt too bone-meltingly good. Oh fuck, she couldn’t come like this, or there’d be no convincing him to lose interest in doing it again.

Don’t come. Don’t come.

He pulled out, then pushed back in, paused between strokes, then did it again, driving her out of her mind. She screamed in distressed pleasure, too far gone to care about later. He stopped to check on her, but she ground back against him, and he took that as an answer.

“Fuck, you do like this, my little liar.” He grabbed her hips and thrust back into her.

All she could do was submit to him and try to hold out, but when his fingertips dug into her skin and his thrusts became erratic, her next orgasm escaped her control. She came, milking his cock with her ass. He cried out hoarsely, ramming into her several more times before he gave a final helpless swear and pressed as far into her as he could get. She mewled at the feeling of his cock throbbing in her ass.

“All of you is mine now, princess.” He growled in her ear and her eyes rolled back, her body agreeing wholeheartedly with his words.

“Yes, Master.”

“And sometimes I’ll take your ass, even though you . . . don’t like it.” He snorted, like he didn’t believe the last part in the slightest.

She groaned. “If you insist.”

“Oh, I do insist. Any questions?” He led her toward the bathroom, steadying her when her knees shook.

“Uh-huh.” She bit her lip, feeling mischievous.