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He grabs my arm above the elbow in a not-so-gentle grip, guiding me into his apartment with a shove and ushering me toward his bedroom. “Get that terrible outfit off and jump into the shower.”

Dashiell shucks his clothes like it’s the most regular Tuesday night. But when he sees I’m not complying, a storm flashes in his eyes.

He stalks toward me and tears off the jacket he covered me with protectively an hour ago. Then tears the rest of my unitard until the remnants sit at my ankles above my Louboutin’s. Then his hand is between my legs, his face invading mine. He rubs the knuckle of his middle finger over my clit until I feel like my knees will buckle and my body starts shaking.

“Get in the fucking shower.”

I try to take his clothes off and he slaps my hands away, shoving me in the already steamy glass shower. Multiple shower heads douse me in hot water that soothe my aching muscles. Dash makes short work of his clothes and, once inside, yanks my head back by my hair.

“I’m going to wash you first, Princess. And then I’m going to spank you for being so bad.”

Dash grabs the liquid soap and begins to lather my entire body, paying particular attention to my tits and my ass until I’m so ensnared in desire I almost start crying in frustration. He sits on the ledge, pushing the soaps aside, and pulls me over his knee.

The first smack takes me by surprise and I gasp, holding back tears. The next ten make me delirious, taking me right to the brink of insanity. My pussy is so swollen and aching, one touch, and I’d detonate. But instead, Dash pinches my nipples, soothes my ass, and pulls me to his mouth. When he kisses me, I slide easily into his lap and try to rub myself on his erection.

“I wasn’t kidding about my plan, Sam. No orgasm until I decide you’re ready. But you can suck it while I spank you. I know you drank a big load, but if you do a good job, I might give you more.”

He forces my head down and I take his massive cock in my mouth again, my head spinning with desire. His slaps on my ass alternate between infuriatingly soft and deliciously vicious as I suck him off. I can’t get over how huge his gorgeous cock is or how much I want it inside me, filling me, pounding me, making me scream. I want the orgasm so bad, I’m out-of-my-mind crazy.

Dashiell slaps my pussy and I cry out, an instant from coming and finally relinquishing my built-up orgasm. Instead, Dash blows his load again and holds his dick fully seated in my throat as I swallow his cum. He doesn’t let up at all or allow me to breathe. My jaw aches from holding my mouth open wide for so long and my gag reflex is overreacting.

“Drink up, Princess. Too bad you didn’t get to cream that sweet pussy.”

“What?” I say in disbelief as he pulls out and steps away, grabbing a towel for himself and tossing one my way.

I catch the giant bath sheet and wrap it around my spent body.

“No orgasm until you learn how to listen. I wasn’t kidding,” he says, rummaging through the drawers next to the sink.

Before I can grab my bearings, he’s spun me around, grabbed my arms again, and my heart skips a beat as I feel the cold hard metal at my wrists.

Handcuffs.

Why the fuck does Dashiell Cunningham have handcuffs. “I don’t want any sneaky hands while we sleep either,” he says.

I scoff. I cry. I threaten to yell for his mom, to call the police, but Dashiell just smirks and gets ready for bed as if we’re in our regular nightly routine.

I’m not allowed any sleeping clothes while Dash slips into silken pajamas.

“I wonder how many times you’ll wake up right on the brink of that pesky little orgasm,” he says.

I want to break his nose. No, I want to break his fucking legs. “How am I supposed to sleep like this?”

“You look sexy as fuck,” he says.

“Give me an out,” I whine, once again near tears.

“If you can find a way to make yourself come, I’ll take them off. Promise.”

I blow my bangs up like I did when I was a kid. I cannot believe the gall of this man. He wants to watch me humiliate myself, rub myself on some knob, try to fuck some inanimate bedroom object like a dog to get off. I hate him.

“No, thanks.” My voice is measured, but inside, I’m burning alive. My nipples and clit are tender and swollen, and my ass is aching. I’ve never been so horny, so desperate to fuck.

I slide into bed next to him, my arms still bound behind me, but when I close my eyes, all I see is his beautiful cock. I can still taste his saltiness in the back of my throat and I moan against the most pent-up sexual energy I’ve ever experienced. It’s pure torture and humiliation, and the combination is maddening.


Tags: Mila Crawford Romance