I can’t even comprehend how we arrived at this territory, this burning heat between us, this new game. Two punishments, I suppose. If I knew all it took was a couple screw-ups to induce Carlo into showering his dominant masculine attention on me, I would have misbehaved long ago.
He wraps his arm around my waist and draws me even closer between his knees. One thumb comes to my trimmed pussy, and he lightly strokes my outer lips, which glisten with dew.
My legs tremble, threatening to buckle. How can he do this to me while I stand? My head swims.
His thumb finds my clit, and I buck at the contact, electricity shooting down my inner thighs. Carlo holds me firmly in place, torturing me with a slow circling rhythm that leaves me panting.
“Carlo—” Moisture dribbles onto my thighs.
“Spread your legs.”
I whimper.
He removes all contact with me, leaving me bereft.
I ease my feet apart.
“Hands on your head.”
My clit throbs, my nipples ache, desperate for his touch. I interlace my fingers and place them on the top of my head.
He nudges me to step back and stands. “If you move from this position, I will take off my belt and spank you until you scream. Capisce?” He speaks the last word as a low, suggestive rumble in my ear, having moved around me.
I shiver.
He slaps my ass. “Answer me.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir, I won’t move.”
He squeezes the offended cheek. “Good girl.”
I glow at the praise.
I listen to the sound of his footsteps retreating, straining to hear his movements, but not daring to turn my head and watch. He’s way too far away. I need him closer, need those hot hands on my body again.
He returns and brushes a hand over my ass, trailing it down my thigh. “You’re being a very good girl, Summer,” he rumbles.
Foolish pride makes my head swim.
He circles me and resumes his position on the couch. In his hand, he holds a bottle of olive oil. Patting his knees, he flicks his eyebrows.
Heat spikes in my core, floods down my legs to curl my toes. I fold myself back over his lap, offering my ass back up to him. I hear the scrape of metal as the bottle’s lid comes off and the trickle of oil slides down my crack.
“Carlo?” Panic begins to set in.
“Shh, bambina. I won’t hurt you.” He returns to massaging my anus, working the oil into the ring of muscles, then applying slight pressure. “When you’ve been naughty, doll, your ass gets punished on the inside and out.”
O. M. G.
“Um…” My whimper sounds wanton.
“Open for me.” His voice deepens with the command.
But my body doesn’t know how to open for him. Everything tightens to resist the intrusion.
“Exhale, Summer, and take me.”
I blow out my breath, and my sphincter relaxes, allowing—oh God—his thumb to enter.
I moan, the degradation of being taken in this way, as a further punishment, equally hot and embarrassing. I love it. The humiliation makes my pussy weep and my body open to him.
He strokes two fingers along my slit, bringing me to the edge of another orgasm with just one swipe.
“Please, Carlo…” Every muscle trembles now, every cell seems to be on the verge of combustion.
He pushes his thumb deep into my ass, then shoves two fingers in my pussy as he withdraws his thumb. Rocking back and forth, he plunges in and out of each hole in opposition. The sensations overwhelm me, make me delirious with need. I rub my face on his sofa cushions, my toes curling and uncurling as the inevitable explosion nears.
“Ask me for it.”
“Please, Carlo, please…” What does he want me to do? Oh yes... “Please let me come, please may I—”
“Come for me, Summer.” He buries his fingers in both holes and stays there as I contract around them, coming harder than I’ve ever come in my life.
And I suspect I’ve only brushed the surface of the places Carlo might take me.
Carlo
Through my lust-induced haze, it occurs to me that I’ve done it again. I didn’t mean to defile Summer, but here she lies, bare-assed over my lap with my digits buried deep in both holes.
Classy, Carlo. Real classy. Way to court your future wife.
I ease my fingers out, trying to force my raging hard-on to deflate. Summer probably notices it pressing into her hip.
I squeeze the back of her muscular thigh, finding it hard to regret anything I’ve done with her. Because there’s no mistaking her response—Summer’s a submissive. She may even be a masochist, but either way, her body responds to my natural dominance. It would have been all right if she weren’t kinky. For a woman like Summer, I would have suppressed my nature and given her tender love-making, but discovering this side of her makes her all the more desirable.
Which doesn’t help my problem with the don.