His gaze flew to her face but she didn't appear to have noticed the thumping sound. Ryan gritted his teeth, guessing Jack's subtle message. He'd already noticed the flash of the camera going off while her eyes had been closed in ecstasy and her juices ran so sweetly down his throat, and then again when she'd briefly closed her eyes as he sank his cock into her pussy.
Now Jack wanted another shot, Ryan realized bitterly.
He slid the leather slapper along the sides of Hope's torso, already knowing how sensitive she was there. He lightly caressed the sides of her breasts. She whimpered softly.
"I want you to do two things, honey," he explained. "I want you to spread your thighs. No
. .. keep them wide," he demanded when she initially followed his instructions and then closed her legs several inches, as though she'd been programmed for modesty— which she had been, of course. She followed his order, nonetheless, spreading her thighs wider, allowing him to see her pink, glistening, fleshy flower. He looked into her strained face and knew how difficult it was for her.
"That's right. You're so beautiful. That pleases me so much, to be able to see you. Now .
.. close your eyes ... and just feel," he ordered as he slid the popper over the curving flesh of her breast.
Hope immediately shut her eyes. She moaned and pulled against her restraints, as though trying to get more of the sensation of the leather stroking her breast. The evidence of her intensely carnal nature left Ryan stunned and immensely gratified. When she became so insistent that she closed her legs partially as she strained up, Ryan lifted the whippy crop and gently slapped her breast, garnering her attention.
"Keep your thighs spread wide, beauty," he chastened.
He landed several well-aimed swats on her breasts, thoroughly enjoying the slight jiggle in her firm flesh and the visible tightening of her nipples. He was so caught up in the eroticism of the moment he almost didn't notice the flash of the camera.
Almost.
He forced his anger to the periphery, knowing he couldn't allow that volatile emotion to control him here any more than he could in the boxing ring. There was a gun pointed at this head, after all.
And he'd much rather focus on pleasuring Hope, anyway.
She whimpered and writhed as he popped her firm breasts with the crop again and again, turning them a lovely shade of pink. She managed to keep her thighs spread the entire time. He watched her face, fascinated at how arousal tightened and transformed her lovely features until she literally emanated desire.
"Ryan," she murmured through trembling lips when he popped her left breast very near the center, carefully avoiding her stiff, pointed nipple. "I—I don't think I can do this
anymore. You must... you must..."
"Make you come?" he suggested softly as he slapped the tender side of her breast.
"Yes ... please." She scrunched her eyes shut and groaned through gritting teeth. Her hips shifted wildly on the bed. Ryan could see how rigid her thigh muscles were as she forced them to remain spread while desire tightened her body. The pubic hairs around her swollen lips were drenched with her juices as were her inner thighs. He'd never seen a more arousing sight in his life. Such a strong stab of lust went through him that his balls tightened uncomfortably.
"I'll see what I can do about that," Ryan promised at the same time he gently popped first one pouting nipple and then the other, back and forth rapidly. Hope cried out, her back curving off the bed. The second he saw her flesh ripple in orgasm, he added a third taut slap to his rhythm, this one on her wet, spread pussy.
His pops continued, rapid and taut—nipple, nipple, cunt, nipple, nipple, cunt.
Hope screamed, her body shuddering in orgasm. He continued slapping her, his pace quickening as she convulsed in mindless pleasure. Ryan was hardly aware that he'd torn open the fly of his pants and shoved his hand into his boxer briefs. He stroked his cock madly as he played Hope's sweet, sensitive body with the crop like a maestro striking the finale on the keys of his instrument. When her screams segued to whimpers and cries as her climax slowed, he focused solely on her pussy, slapping her juicy tissues with firm, fast little vibrating strokes until she screamed full throttle all over again.
Moments later he tossed the crop on the table, careless as to where it landed, and put one knee on the bed. He leaned down, palmed her jaw and ravaged her mouth with barely restrained lust. Potent, sweet, addicting woman, he thought dizzily as he pillaged her depths and she whimpered into his mouth. By the time he lifted his head they both gasped for air—she, straining to recover after her orgasm and he, desperately trying to rein in his splintering control.
It took him a moment to realize she still clamped her eyes shut. He chuckled and gently kissed her eyelids. Not only was she intelligent, spirited and the essence of pure sexuality, Hope Stillwater was a natural submissive given the right man.
Thank God she'd decided he was such a man.
"Did you like that, beauty?" he whispered gruffly when she opened her midnight eyes and focused on his face.
"If it wasn't a sin for me to allow it, surely it won't be one for me to say I liked it very much."
Ryan chuckled. "You're a little witch, Hope Stillwater."
"What do you mean by that?" she asked, seeming more concerned about his statement than interested in the fact that he leaned over to unfasten her left wrist from the headboard.
"Turn over on your belly, beauty," he whispered. He waited while she flipped over and rapidly reaffixed the velvet rope. He recalled what Jack had said about keeping her restrained until he'd gotten all the photos he wanted and was extremely mindful of the gun pointed at him during those tense seconds.
"I called you a witch because everything you say and every glance you give me casts a spell," Ryan murmured. Part of him was surprised by his blatant honesty, although another part wasn't. A woman, like Hope deserved nothing less, especially when she gifted him with her sincerity so generously time and again.