She cleared her throat, wondering if she should be scared. However, that was part of the appeal. “You won’t make me bleed or anything though, right?”
“No. Nothing that rough.” His hand smoothed over her ass where he’d grabbed it, and it made her shudder.
> “Okay.”
The flicker of desire in his eyes made her knees wobble.
“You can even spank me harder than you did,” she said, feeling like this whole situation was a dream and she couldn’t quite control what was coming out of her own mouth. But hey—she’d already admitted what she was into and he hadn’t flipped out. If he was willing to give her what she’d secretly been thinking about for so long, and could keep his mouth shut, it might be worth the humiliation. “And you can hit me with your belt. Start slow though, okay? I’ll say ‘red’ if I have to.”
“Good girl.”
Damn, why was it so hot when he talked to her like this? The way he stroked his hand down her side, and the thick approval in his tone—and in his pants—made her want to keep doing things to please him.
With other men the whole dominance thing made her want to knee them in the nuts. With him, it was just hot.
Without warning, he swatted her ass. Hard. She yelped in surprise.
“Attention on me, Ophelia.” He was in her face, talking too close, his dark eyes narrowed and dangerous.
“Sorry.”
He caught one of her nipples between his fingers, slowly increasing the pressure of his pinch until it hurt. She whimpered, swore, then stood silent and trembling as heat flashed through her body. Her breath caught and held just as his grip did.
“Breathe, little girl.” He let go and she sagged, gasping for breath.
Fuck, that hurt. Being trapped and forced to submit was what made her needy, not the pain, right?
Big hands cupped her breasts, fondled them, teased at her nipples and made her squirm. She could feel herself waiting, anticipating when he’d hurt her again. Her nipple ached, but the other one didn’t, and she found herself pushing against his hand, urging him to be rougher.
“Oh, you liked that, did you? You want more?”
“What? No.” Was he a mind reader?
A sexy half smirk played across his lips, his cheek flashing a dimple at her.
“Yes, you do. But what if I do this?” He grabbed her sore nipple again, gently, then squeezing harder and harder until the pain drove a spike from her breast to her pussy. Her mouth hung open in shock and she shuddered violently. He let go and she sucked in a whooping breath, wriggling on the end of his rope, trying to get her thighs to relieve the ache of her clit.
“That’s . . . I . . . you suck!”
“Not yet.”
He leaned down and caught her poor, squashed nipple in his mouth, sucking gently, flicking his tongue over the sensitized bud until she was panting. Then he closed his teeth on it, gently, then nipping, biting . . .
Her scream rang through the clearing, half pain, half desire. The sound of her own suffering turned her on. She trembled for him, afraid of what he was going to do next, but more afraid of how much she liked it. What if no one ever did this to her again? Liking this was so perverted, but if he didn’t do something awful to her other nipple soon she was going to beg for it.
“Hmm . . . good thing you didn’t pick the hotel room, noisy girl.” His grin was devilish, but not judgmental. He cupped her sore breast again, then rubbed a gentle thumb over it, making her shriek.
“It hurts. Oh god, it hurts so much.”
His hand quested down between her legs, and his fingers explored there. When he brought them back up to show her, they shone slick in the firelight.
“Messy.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Open your mouth.”
She eyed his fingers askance. “What? No! Why?”
“You’ve never tasted yourself?”
“Ew! No.”