off—and
that
gives me strength.
“I want it,” I repeat. “And not because I need the pain. But because I need you.”
I need him even more than I can say. I want his hands on me. I want to be the object of his pleasure, and I want to lose myself in the knowledge that there is nothing Damien wants more than to please me, and nothing I want more than to surrender to him.
He swallows, looking humbled by my words. “I need you, too, Nikki. God, how I need you.”
I breathe in deep, cherishing those words more than he can possibly know. “Then touch me.”
He does—
oh, how he does
—and though I expect the caresses, the passion, the immediate sensual assault, I am jarred off-center by the fervency I see in his eyes, and by the firm line of his mouth. There is nothing else in the world to him except me, and I can see it with every glimpse of him. I taste it in his hard, lingering kiss.
“Bed,” he says, once he breaks the kiss. “Bend over. Legs apart.”
I raise my brows in question. “Bossy much?”
He slaps me lightly on the bottom, and I gasp, both surprised and excited. “What do you say?”
“Yes, sir,” I say obediently, forcing myself not to smile. I turn back to the bed and bend over, my hands firmly on the mattress,my excitement so raw I’m certain that it clings to me like perfume. I no longer question my motives; I am not in an analytical mind-set. All I want is Damien setting my body on fire. Damien thrusting himself deep inside of me.
His hand cups my rear, moving in slow, sensual circles. I feel a momentary wash of cool air on my skin as he breaks contact, and then I cry out in both pleasure and pain as his palm smacks hard against my ass, then presses against the point of impact, the sweet pressure soothing the sting.
Slowly, he slides his hand down between my legs. “Oh, baby,” he says as his fingers slide over me. I’m desperately wet, and I tremble from his touch, so close that I have to fight the temptation to take one hand off the bed and touch myself where Damien is so carefully avoiding.
Then again …
I keep my weight on my left hand, and dip my right hand between my legs. A shiver runs through me as I brush my fingertip over my clit. I’m swollen and sensitive and so very, very close.
“Oh, you have been naughty,” Damien says, as his fingers brush against mine.
I swallow, anticipating another spank, but it doesn’t come. Instead he bends me over more, so that I have no choice but to move my hand back onto the bed if I don’t want to fall over on my face.
Damien takes his hand away and I whimper at the break in contact. He’s not touching me at all, and that’s the most keen punishment he can deliver. I wonder for a moment if that’s what he has planned. To leave me like this, bent over, naked, my ass in the air, waiting and wanting. He might, I know, and I can’t help but smile at the thought. It would piss me off and drive me crazy, but I know that when the punishment is over and he finally does fuck me, it will be all the sweeter for it.
That, however, isn’t what he has planned. I hear the tug of hiszipper, followed by the brush of denim against skin as he quickly strips off his jeans. I bite my lip, then exhale in sweet triumph as his cock presses against my rear, my body opening to him in sweet anticipation.
Please, Damien. Take me. Please take me now
. I want to cry the words, but I stay silent. I don’t, however, stay still. I can’t help it. My body is demanding and antsy, and my hips gyrate against his cock, and his low moan of pleasure only makes me more frenzied.
His hands close on my hips and hold me still, and I can’t help my whimper of protest. He laughs, and I want to cry out in frustration because he is very thoroughly, very meanly teasing me.
Then I feel the tip of his cock on the slick folds of my vulva and I want to cry with relief. He teases me at first, barely entering, and I bite my lower lip so hard I fear I will taste blood. The
that
gives me strength.
“I want it,” I repeat. “And not because I need the pain. But because I need you.”
I need him even more than I can say. I want his hands on me. I want to be the object of his pleasure, and I want to lose myself in the knowledge that there is nothing Damien wants more than to please me, and nothing I want more than to surrender to him.
He swallows, looking humbled by my words. “I need you, too, Nikki. God, how I need you.”
I breathe in deep, cherishing those words more than he can possibly know. “Then touch me.”
He does—
oh, how he does
—and though I expect the caresses, the passion, the immediate sensual assault, I am jarred off-center by the fervency I see in his eyes, and by the firm line of his mouth. There is nothing else in the world to him except me, and I can see it with every glimpse of him. I taste it in his hard, lingering kiss.
“Bed,” he says, once he breaks the kiss. “Bend over. Legs apart.”
I raise my brows in question. “Bossy much?”
He slaps me lightly on the bottom, and I gasp, both surprised and excited. “What do you say?”
“Yes, sir,” I say obediently, forcing myself not to smile. I turn back to the bed and bend over, my hands firmly on the mattress,my excitement so raw I’m certain that it clings to me like perfume. I no longer question my motives; I am not in an analytical mind-set. All I want is Damien setting my body on fire. Damien thrusting himself deep inside of me.
His hand cups my rear, moving in slow, sensual circles. I feel a momentary wash of cool air on my skin as he breaks contact, and then I cry out in both pleasure and pain as his palm smacks hard against my ass, then presses against the point of impact, the sweet pressure soothing the sting.
Slowly, he slides his hand down between my legs. “Oh, baby,” he says as his fingers slide over me. I’m desperately wet, and I tremble from his touch, so close that I have to fight the temptation to take one hand off the bed and touch myself where Damien is so carefully avoiding.
Then again …
I keep my weight on my left hand, and dip my right hand between my legs. A shiver runs through me as I brush my fingertip over my clit. I’m swollen and sensitive and so very, very close.
“Oh, you have been naughty,” Damien says, as his fingers brush against mine.
I swallow, anticipating another spank, but it doesn’t come. Instead he bends me over more, so that I have no choice but to move my hand back onto the bed if I don’t want to fall over on my face.
Damien takes his hand away and I whimper at the break in contact. He’s not touching me at all, and that’s the most keen punishment he can deliver. I wonder for a moment if that’s what he has planned. To leave me like this, bent over, naked, my ass in the air, waiting and wanting. He might, I know, and I can’t help but smile at the thought. It would piss me off and drive me crazy, but I know that when the punishment is over and he finally does fuck me, it will be all the sweeter for it.
That, however, isn’t what he has planned. I hear the tug of hiszipper, followed by the brush of denim against skin as he quickly strips off his jeans. I bite my lip, then exhale in sweet triumph as his cock presses against my rear, my body opening to him in sweet anticipation.
Please, Damien. Take me. Please take me now
. I want to cry the words, but I stay silent. I don’t, however, stay still. I can’t help it. My body is demanding and antsy, and my hips gyrate against his cock, and his low moan of pleasure only makes me more frenzied.
His hands close on my hips and hold me still, and I can’t help my whimper of protest. He laughs, and I want to cry out in frustration because he is very thoroughly, very meanly teasing me.
Then I feel the tip of his cock on the slick folds of my vulva and I want to cry with relief. He teases me at first, barely entering, and I bite my lower lip so hard I fear I will taste blood. The
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