Finally, it came. A whimper of pain escaped from me and was followed by a sob. “Again,” I pleaded.
“This is . . . fucked up,” he said, but then his palm seared across my ass with a loud slap. And another. My skin was hot and irritated under the lace panties, but it felt weirdly good and really fucking turned me on. I moaned my approval.
The spankings slowed yet grew more intense. In between the slaps, his hands smoothed over my heated skin, massaging and teasing. He raked his fingernails over the lace, and I wiggled against the sensation. It felt good, but also balanced on a knife’s edge of being too much.
He tugged the waist of my panties up, forcing the fabric deep into my cleft and giving him more skin of my bare ass as a target. His spankings were sharp, but he struck me right in the center of my cheeks, and it didn’t hurt now. At least, if it did, I was too far gone to care.
I groaned and rolled my hips, rising to meet his tempo, and I didn’t recognize the throaty voice as my own. “Whose fantasy is this?”
He exhaled loudly. “Ours.”
I moaned my agreement and pushed up to rest on my forearms, so I could straighten out my back. What would it feel like in this position?
There was the sound of rustling as he moved, but no slap came. His fingers dug into the sides of my panties, wrenched them down until they were stretched between my knees, and his breath rolled over the backs of my legs.
One deep, quick lick of his tongue made me jolt. “Oh!”
He did it again. A lightning-fast pass of his tongue over my clit and it detonated fireworks. I flinched at each staccato lick he gave me, and whimpers poured from my lips. It was too much and not enough. Teasing me to the point of being mean.
It was a new form of punishment, and my head spun. I loved it and hated it.
The spankings had built me into a frenzy, and all I needed now was one long push to make me fall over the edge. His tongue slashed at me while his palms ran up and down my legs, tracing every goosebump he’d created on me. I moved, gyrating against his face, but he kept perfect control and drew away when I tried to get what I needed.
I reached a hand back behind me and clenched a fistful of his hair, desperate. “Oh, please,” I begged. “Make me feel good.”
He went after me then like a man dying of hunger, and I cried out, my supporting arm giving way as pleasure rocketed through my center. My chest slammed against the bed as Greg braced my hips and closed his lips around my clit.
The explosion was instantaneous.
Our moans mixed together, although mine overpowered his. I quaked beneath his mouth, shuddering through the blistering orgasm and lingered in the fog of the pleasure, barely aware of anything happening around me.
Noises registered. A thud, the crinkle of foil ripping. Greg’s t-shirt, still warm from his body, dropped onto the bed beside me. And then he was there, nudging. The tip of his hard dick pushed and intruded, one delicious inch at a time.
“Oh, Jesus. Oh, God,” I babbled through my short gasps of breath. “Yes, that’s it.”
His sigh was heavy with satisfaction, and I felt it mirrored inside me. He slipped deeper as his hands grasped my waist and pulled me back onto him. All the way until his pelvis was pressed flat against my ass, and he was so hard inside me I couldn’t see straight.
We stayed motionless, me bent over the bed and him standing behind, just breathing and enjoying the way it felt. Fuck, it felt so good. He throbbed inside me, and my body squeezed in reply. And even though we weren’t moving, blood thundered through my veins. My pulse sped along, banging loudly in my ears.
I might die from this man. It was an impossibly dramatic thought, but it felt real. Greg’s command over me was absolute, and I wondered . . . would I survive him?
There was only one way to know. I reached a hand back and put it on his hip, trying to send a signal I was ready. He grasped my elbow in one firm hand, and then the fingers of his other dug into my scalp, right at the base of my ponytail. He pulled me up off the bed, arching me like a bow and drawing his hips back slowly—
Only so he could slam into me, so deep and hard, it bordered on pain. Flashes of white danced in my vision, and I grunted, but I loved his rough thrust.
“You like that?” he asked darkly.
“Yeah.”
He did it again.