But on the cusp of the biggest week in my career, I’m gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, and he’s railing me.
With a vicious grip on my hips, he fucks me deeper, harder, alternating spanks with tugs on my hair.
A sharp slap tears through me, the pain blooming into pleasure. I moan, a savage sound ripped from my soul.
Then, he whispers darkly in my ear, “You ready, baby?”
Like I’ve never been before. “So ready.”
He eases back, reaches for the ping-pong paddle on the counter, and lifts it. But I can’t see him, so I don’t know when it’s coming.
He pushes deep into me, then out, thenwhack.
The paddle stings.
The pain bursts.
And I jump. “Oh, god,” I gasp.
“Okay?”
But then I’m moaning because I’m warm all over.
“Yes,” I say.
He sinks into me again, one hand snaking around my waist, down to my clit.
As he rubs, I rock back against his cock, murmuring into the exquisite bliss of his fingers.
Then…smack.
A hard sting. The sharp ache spreads through my body chased by a burst of desire.
Then a luxurious wave of sensations sayingmore, more.
“Again,” I beg in a whisper.
He teases my clit with his fingers, pinching me, then hitting me.
Sharp. Hard. Deliciously.
“Oh god,” I yelp.
“Do you need me to stop?” he asks.
“I need you to do it again. Both sides. Mark me the same,” I urge, my voice a barren pant.
He grunts like an animal. “Fuck, Ellie.”
Then he pounds into me, smacking my other cheek with the paddle. Pain shatters under his touch, but I rock back into his thrusts, seeking that moment when it crests and breaks into this…bliss.
He paddles one cheek, then the other.
Soon, I’m lost in a trance. The sensations of pleasure and pain flip every few seconds, one chasing the other, one turning into the other.
I ask for more, and he gives me what I want until the pain overwhelms me. It’s too much and I hit my limit.
“Scooter,” I whisper desperately.