—
The open honesty on Cela’s face was enough to wring the air from his lungs. All the times they were together, Foster had always wondered if maybe she’d only been going along with things to please him, to be experimental. But to hear that not only had she missed him, but had also fantasized about his binding her and bringing her pain, made his heart want to grow wings and zoom right out of his chest.
He knew he had to be cautious. She said she didn’t have answers tonight. There was still a very real possibility that she could walk away from him. But if he’d had any doubts whether or not she was truly wired for being submissive, he didn’t now. She craved what he could give her. And God knows, he ached for her.
He pushed her dark hair away from her face. “Turn around and lie across my lap, angel. I don’t need you imagining anymore.”
Her eyes went half-mast and she eased off his lap, turning to lay herself prone across his knees. Her muscles were already starting to loosen, her mind sinking into the moment. When he had her in position, he tugged down her shorts and panties, leaving them at her knees. Fuck, she was beautiful—full breasts pressed against his thigh, hair hanging down to brush the floor, and the feminine curve of her back and ass there like a feast for him.
He rubbed a hand along the globe of one cheek, enjoying the silky-smooth skin, then he raised his hand and gave it a swift smack. She reared up, her breath catching, and his cock pressed against the fly of his jeans. The bright pink, five-fingered image appeared on that golden skin. He’d never be able to describe to her what that did to him, to see his mark on her, to know that she craved both his softness and his sting, but it was almost religious for him. He brought his hand down again on the other side and inhaled her reaction—the soft cry, the scent of her arousal drifting upward, the surrender in her stance.
“Give me a color, Cela,” he said, rubbing his palm along the place he’d hit.
“Green,” she whispered, squirming a bit beneath his hold. “So very green.”
He smiled. How far she’d come. From being embarrassed about the smallest desire to begging to be spanked. He couldn’t ever remember seeing something as sexy as this woman taking ownership of her desires. He spanked her with a little more oomph this time and she quivered against him.
Confident that she was totally with him now, he worked her over, darkening her ass and the backs of her thighs with a pattern of red marks. Her skin began to glisten with sweat, and her moans turned into breathy, desperate whimpers. He drew his hand down and between her legs, finding her soaked and hot with arousal. “You need to come, angel?”
“Yes, please, sir,” she said, pushing up on her toes to grind against his fingers.
He lifted her up and rolled her onto her back on the bed. She looked up at him with glazed eyes, her cheeks flushed. He knelt on the floor and tugged her panties and shorts fully off. “You have my permission.”
He undid his belt buckle and the fly of his pants, his erection demanding to be freed from its denim prison, and he draped Cela’s legs over his shoulders. The soft, pink folds of her pussy spread before him, swollen and glistening with her arousal, and he had to hold back the groan. He fisted his cock at the base, trying to tame the need building in him. He wanted to take his time and savor this, savor her.
He dipped forward and laid kisses along her inner thighs, giving her a quick little pop on the hip when she wouldn’t be still. She huffed her frustration, making him smile, but she made a decidedly different noise when he ran his tongue along her center. Her fingers curled into the comforter, and her hips rocked forward. He closed his eyes, relishing her tart taste and the sweet scent of her desire. He loved how shameless she was, arching against his tongue and making all those soft, throaty noises.
He eased two fingers inside her, the heat of her making his cock throb, and ran the tip of his tongue around her clit before sucking it between his lips. She groaned, and he pumped his fingers inside her, working her with his mouth until he could feel her pussy tightening. He curled his fingers inside her, finding the spot he knew she needed, and a sharp cry broke through the room. She writhed against the bed, and he held her to his mouth with his free arm, helping her ride the intensity when her body’s instinct was to pull away.
Her strangled cries were like sweet music seeping into his bloodstream, making his body throb in time with her sounds. When he could tell she couldn’t take anymore, he backed off, rubbing his cheek against her thigh and talking to her in soft tones. “Beautiful, angel.”
She reached for him, dragging her nails along his scalp and sending hot shivers through him. “I need you, Foster. Please.”
“Greedy little girl, aren’t you?” he teased, as h
e pushed himself off the floor, shucking off his clothes and lowering onto the bed.
Her eyelids fluttered open and she gave him a slow smile. “If I wasn’t high on afterglow, I would totally be offended at that.”
He grinned as he crawled over her, bracing himself above her. “Then I’ll just keep you in a constant state of arousal so I can say any filthy, offensive thing that comes to mind.”
She ran her hands along his chest, openly exploring every dip and valley. “That won’t be hard. You seem to have that effect on me.”
He loved how she touched him so hungrily, like each part of him was a revelation. “Feeling’s mutual, gorgeous.”
He leaned down to kiss her as he positioned himself at her entrance, no longer in the mood to be patient. The moment he sank into her, all felt right with the world again. His woman wrapped around him, her taste on his lips, and her heartbeat pounding against his chest in time with his.
No. Not his woman, he corrected. Not yet. But he was going to try his damnedest to make it so.
Unable to resist, he grabbed her wrists and pinned both of them above her head as he rocked into her. She surrendered willingly, her eyes catching his and holding the gaze as he slid deep. And in that moment, he didn’t need her words to know. He affected her as much as she did him. There was something there that he’d never experienced before with anyone else. Even when he thought he’d been in love with Darcy, he hadn’t felt that rip-through-your-chest-and-tug-out-your-soul feeling like he did when he looked at Cela.
Cela shifted below him, her eyes blinking closed and a flush creeping over her neck. She was so close again already. The passion in her was right there at the surface, bursting through with almost no coaxing. He could spend forever discovering all the ways to bring her right to the edge of her pleasure and then tormenting her until she came apart beneath him. He reached down with his free hand and grabbed her hip, tilting her upward and moving inside her at the angle he wanted.
Sweat glazed both their bodies as he relentlessly pumped into her, knowing that his girl responded better to a nice, hard fucking as opposed to slow, sweet lovemaking—the virgin had grown into the vixen. And he couldn’t get enough of her and how ravenous she was for him. It made him feel powerful and wanted. Like a man. Like her man.
“God, Foster, yes,” she murmured, talking out of her head now, so close to breaking apart.
He increased his pace, the sound of skin slapping skin mixing in with her throaty whimpers, and all his muscles began to tighten. Her crossed wrists thrashed restlessly beneath his tight hold as she raced up the hill again.