Page 5 of Playing Dirty

CHAPTER FIVE

SYLVIE

With strength I don’t know how I still have, I manage to roll off the man who just rocked my world without looking like a flopping idiot. I sit up and take in the handsome, rugged, sweaty, and flushed body still handcuffed to the bed, and I can’t help but smile.

“Does that smile mean you’ll let me out of at least one of these contraptions?” He shakes his right hand and the metal makes a mix of a rattling and clanking sound. I must have zoned it out, but I can only imagine how loud that was during our mattress mambo.

“I think you’ve earned a second reward for your performance,” I reply with a wink as I turn and reach for the handcuff key sitting on the nightstand. Oh, what a performance it was!

“Just one?” He gives me the cutest pouty puppy dog sad face look, and I’m almost tempted to give in, but not quite.

Needing to get things back on track—I am the Mistress after all—I decide to teach him a lesson in self-discipline. Sliding to the edge of the bed, I stand before unlocking the cuff, so I’m out of his reach when his hand is free.

“Hey,” he calls out as I take a small step to my right, “not fair. You’re not close enough to touch.”

“Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, pet,” I scold as I give him a slap on the thigh. “This is still my show. I’m in charge. Do I make myself clear, pet?”

“Yes, Mistress.” His words and tone are contrite, but I can see a flash of wanting to resist in his eyes.

We can’t be having that. But how do I punish him? Hmmm . . . oh, I know!

Turning to look behind me, I find the chair I saw earlier and walk toward it. The grunting and huffing behind me is ignored as I push the chair closer to the side of the bed and sit down. Needing to teach my little pet a lesson in minding his mistress, I give him a front row view of what he can’t touch.

Starting at my neck, I run my hands across my shoulders, down my chest, and fill my palms with my soft breasts. I trace my nipples with my fingertips, pinching the buds until they’re hard and begging to be tugged and pulled, which I do. After a minute, I feel myself getting very hot under the collar, so to speak, and I continue on my journey of self-love.

Skating down over my stomach and hips, I spread my thighs open, showing the now silent man on the bed my dripping pussy. I lift my right foot onto the arm of the chair, bending my knee and opening myself almost as far as I can, giving myself plenty of room to ‘work’ while allowing him to see what I’m doing. I can tell by his clenched jaw, squinted eyes, and tight fists that he’s feeling the repercussions of his hasty arrogance. He really thought those adorable blue eyes were going to trick me into letting him free.

Silly pet.

Deciding to torment him just a little while longer, I skip over my needy pussy and slide my hands down and back up my thighs a few times, each caress back toward my center getting a little bit closer. When I finally reach the promise land, I create a V with the first two fingers of my right hand to spread my folds open, exposing the wetness between. Then, with the middle finger of my left hand, I start out drawing tiny circles over my pulsing clit, pressing a little bit harder until I find just the right amount of pressure.

I close my eyes before I lean my head against the back of the chair, scooting my hips just a smidgen forward to spread my hips a bit more, when suddenly and all at once, I hear a clank and a crash and a splinter of wood. My eyes fly open to see a very angry bull flying toward me . . . a bull no longer in his chains.

“That’s it!” he roars. “No more games.”

Next thing I know, I’m halfway upside down, his shoulder in my stomach as he lifts me from the chair. All I can do is flail like a ragdoll as we spin around before I’m twisting through the air again and landing flat on my back on the bed. My arms flop to my sides and the room stops spinning just in time for my breath to be sucked from my body.

I’m being kissed again like he needs the air I breathe, and quite frankly, I need his too. Who was I kidding? Even in the handcuffs, he was a beast waiting to break free. It’s a heavy, wonderful feeling to know a man needs and wants me this much.

Wrapping my arms around his wide shoulders, I pull his bulk down on top of me. I can still taste the slight bitterness of myself on his lips and tongue as we push and pull for the balance of give and take. I tried to give him a show, and he took what he wanted, but you won’t see me complaining. The hard cock sliding against my very sensitive clit is a powerful weapon.

Before I can beg for mercy, my body is being moved again under no power of my own. I’m now face down in a pillow, ass held up by two very strong hands and being pounded into by that lion in heat. He thrusts so deep that he bottoms out, hitting my cervix. It’s a dull pain but a good one. His cock is battering my pussy so hard I know I’ll be feeling the memory of him for days.

“Do you wanna come, Mistress?” he grunts as he thrusts, fingers digging into my hips.

Turning my head on the pillow, I try to catch a breath. “Yes . . . Yes . . . Oh, yes.”

“Sorry. Too bad. Maybe. In. A. Minute.” His words are choppy as he punctuates each one with a snap of his hips.

I clutch the sheets as tight as I can, holding on for dear life. I know there’s nothing else I can do. He has the reins now, and by reins, I mean me. He has me in his clutches, and I can only enjoy the ride.

“Can I?” I beg, feeling the pressure build up inside me so strong, I know I’m about to snap. Squeezing him with my inner muscles as hard as I can with each of his thrusts, I try to pull him over the edge with me.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” And then wham! “Fuuuuck meeee!” Over the waterfall we go together. Neither of us can see the bottom, but oh, what a way to go.

CHAPTER SIX

LIAM

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