He taps my cheek with the broad, round head.
“Suck it like you mean it.”
His abrasive tone scorches a line of heat right to my pussy. And he doesn’t have to tell me twice. I open my mouth and Jace pushes between my lips. I suck and lick, stroke and worship him with all four years of pent-up lust and adoration.
When he pulls out, pulls away, I literally whimper.
Before I know what’s happening, he’s crouched beside me—tying my hands behind my back with the green ribbon from my present. Not so tight that I couldn’t get free—but snug enough so I feel it. So I feel helpless. At his mercy and under his control.
Jace stands back in front of me, his legs shoulder width apart. His hand slides up the back of my neck, gripping my hair.
“Open your mouth wide and relax your throat. I want to fuck it.”
Yes. More. Please.
He fills my mouth, pushing all the way back, nudging my throat and blocking my airway. I gag once and he retreats. He pushes in again, pressing me forward. I gag again and spit dribbles out from my lips, cooling on my chin.
“Easy, baby.” Jace coos. “Let it happen. I’ve got you.”
This time, when he thrusts in, I don’t resist. I let go, give in, and his cock tunnels all the way down my throat. He thrusts twice, then pulls out so I can suck in air, then he re-enters.
When he goans, I feel like a queen. “Oh yeah. So fucking good, Evie. So good.”
Then he’s lifting me under my arms, spinning me around, pressing his bare chest to my back, my still-tied arms trapped between our bodies.
“I was going to tell you I was spanking your ass for not saying you wanted me sooner.” He whispers as he tugs his jeans all the way off. “But,” he growls, “I don’t need a reason to spank this ass.” He grips one cheek in his palm, fingers digging and I jump. From surprise and excitement. “Say stop if you want me to stop. But you won’t because you’re gonna love it.”
He’s not wrong.
The first slap of his rough hand on my ass shocks more than it hurts. But the next one stings. And by the third, I know Jace isn’t playing one bit. By the sixth smack, my ass burns and I know it must be bright pink. Excitement and dirty bliss pulse through me. I feel wild and decadent, powerful and amazing.
“Do you like it?” Jace asks.
“I love it,” I sigh.
He finishes with an even ten—then he’s turning me again. Leaning me back, resting my elbows on the bar, so my pelvis is arched forward.
Jace reaches down and presses his fingers—feels like three—into my pussy. “This sweet cunt is soaked. I might drown when I eat you.”
He drops to his knees and I forget to breathe.
“Can’t think of a better way I’d rather go out.”
And his mouth is on me. Sucking and licking—thrusting inside with his tongue—flicking my swollen clit over and over. My hands strain against the ribbon because I want to grip his hair, hold onto him—but I can’t. All I can do is take it.
Take all he’s giving.
With a loud cry I come writhing against his mouth. The hot, white pleasure surges through me, pounding hard, making me feel like I’m flying. Falling. Falling for him even more than I already have.
When the last of my orgasm settles, Jace only gives me a second to recover. He pulls on the ribbon, releasing my hands, spins me around and guides my palms onto the bar. Bending me over, I feel his cock at my entrance.
Then he’s pushing inside—full and hard. He’s so big, too big—stretching me almost to the point of pain, which makes the pleasure more intense.
“So fucking tight,” he growls.
He grips my shoulders and fucks me in relentless strokes that push me forward, jingling my earrings, with every thrust. Jace growls filthy words behind me—about how wet my pussy is, how good it feels, my perfect ass, how he’s wanted me for fucking years. His fingers cup between my legs in the front, rubbing my clit, then I feel them sliding between the globes of my ass, slick with my own juices. His fingers slide up and down over that tight entrance—teasing—warning.
And it’s so much. Too much. Too much feeling.
“Wait…oh…yes…”
But Jace knows I can take it. He knows I’ll love it.
So when he pushes one finger into my ass—twisting it—another orgasm rips through me with the force of a runaway train. And I come again—screaming against the wood of the bar.
I’m weightless, spent, my bones too liquid to hold me up. Jace pulls out, turns me around and lifts me—wrapping my legs around his waist. He holds me tight and walks us towards the fireplace, kissing me like a dying man. Gently, he lays me on the dark, warm rug—the downy softness of the pelt cradles and soothes my skin.