So very spoilt.
The smell of his coffee and his cigar circles the room while his hand is reverent in its caring attention. I feel like butter and melting chocolate—all warm and swirly and gooey. "You're not at work," I stupidly say.
"You're very observant."
I chuckle at him. "If you want me to be more remarkable first thing in the morning, then you should probably allow me more than a few hours between—"
His hand connects with my arse in a hard slap. A gasp leaves me before it twists into a long moan, the shock turning that delicious sizzle of pleasure into a buck of sensation.
His big palm rubs the stinging flesh as he says, "I think you have forgotten,sweet girl, that you will let me fuck any of your pretty parts I desire. WheneverI desire. Now, what were you going to say?
My cheeks heat, probably glowing the same bright red as my backside—a matching stamp of arousal. "Nothing, Sir."
"Good girl." He pushes two cold fingers inside me, easing the swelling, flooding me with pleasure so lovely it curls my toes. "I like watching your toes curl." He scoops both long digits inside me, applying the thick pads to the back wall, stimulating me to flex my arse and groan. "Yes," he confirms huskily. "I'm taking the day off. We can have a long weekend. Have you ever been on an aeroplane?"
Barely focusing on his words, the sensation consuming my conscious mind, I try to reach for what he said. Plane?Like in the sky?God,my brain is useless when he's doing that with his fingers… "No?"
"Don't answer a question with a question."
"No, Sir. I've never—" I start to convulse with waves of arousal when he dips his thumb between the muscles rimming my rosette, while his cool fingers continue their reverent strokes on my puffy lips.
I take fistfuls of the pillow beneath my head and turn my face away from the sight of him with his cigar still smoking from his mouth and his heated eyes glued on my backside. Burying my whimpers within the soft material, I writhe on him.
"Your pretty holes love being full. Did you know that? They suck me in with such demand. Such need. How am I supposed to separate my body from yours when every part of you is so very sweet to me. Hold still for me, little deer." Replacing his thumb now is a cool, hard object that pulls my muscles taut. "Good girl." I flex around it, and he groans. "I can only imagine what it feels like to be held in this tight hole…Relax.You remember my present? This is to stretch you, but it's also to help train your muscles so you don't flex too hard when I try to get inside you."
I pant to the hot sensation of being full—so exquisitely stretched. Flexing around it decisively, I moan from deep in my throat. I flex again.
He guides me to a sitting position beside him on the sofa, my hands in my lap and my backside on my heels. The plug moves when I do.
Clay pulls the cigar from his mouth, the tiny remnants of it almost burning his lips. Reaching over my lap, he butts it out in the crystal tray on the table before leaning back casually.
Giving me his full attention now, his eyes roam my face, and he sighs, a smile sliding across his lips.AndI'm butter. I fucking melt further into a puddle of his making. "This one is smaller than the last one. Not because I'm being generous but because I want you to wear it most of the day. Can you do that for me, sweet girl?"
Excitedly, I agree. "Yes, Sir."
He reaches to the table, retrieving a container of wine-coloured pills and a glass of what looks like orange juice, offering them both to me. "Take these. Every morning."
"Is it candy?" I shuffle my backside in the dip between my heels, closing my eyes for a moment to the sweet agony of the plug moving. I open them and catch his like a direct threat of something primal. I agree to it. "I'm here willing and eager for whatever you want. I don't need candy, Sir."
He clenches his jaw. "Mind your mouth, sweet girl. You may like it now, but I won't always be so gentle with your spanking. Behave so I don’t feel the need or desire to show you what pain, pleasure, and discomfort can do when they peak at the same time."
Fucking hell.
Excitement, anticipation, and fear shock my heart into a frantic tattoo, widening my eyes.
Should I start to piss him off now?
Or later?
His easy blue gaze cuts to the container in my hand, then back to my face. "The pills are vitamins, sweet girl. Let me see you take one now.”
Okay, later.
I grin at him, a cheeky slant to my lips. "Yes, Sir." I slip a pill through my smile, chasing it with a sip of juice. My tastebuds buzz around bursts of citrus as I swallow.
"Now." He leans back and drapes his thick arms over the back of the sofa, looking powerful even in that casual position. “I’m inside you right now. In your little arse. Remember that because I won’t be able to play with you today. You will see me around the house, but I need to—"
“So what? You want me to just pretend—"