Page 131 of Rebel

Straightening, I rub the spatula edge into the sting as he groans. I feel him fighting the urge to grind, and when he gives in, I bring it down across his ass twice in hard succession. Watching the red marks bloom across his skin gives me a sick kind of pleasure, and hearing his pain-fueled pleasure noises only adds to that. I rub the marks with my hand as he hisses, but when I slide my hand lower and around, I find his cock absolutely rock solid and leaking for me.

Oh, the dirty bastard likes this alright.

Slowly stroking my hand down his length, I bring him right up to the edge, and just when he’s about to come, I let go and bring the spatula down again, across his ass and then his balls.

He cries out, jerking against the wooden table. “Please, pretty girl, please, fuck, I need to come,” he whines.

“Not yet,” I tell him as I lick away the sting and then add more marks to the ones burned across his ass. His cry is pure frustration, and when his words come, they are slurred together and wild.

“Please, Beck, please, fuck, just let me come. Stop, don’t stop, I don’t care. Fuck, I need to come,” he begs, rolling his hips in circles. His precum drips down his shaking legs at this point, and the bus is quiet bar his breathing and pleas.

Sliding my hand up his back, I grip the nape of his neck and pull his head up, pressing my mouth to his ear. “I like hearing you beg for me,” I murmur, biting down on his earlobe as he groans loudly. “But I didn’t say you could come yet.”

I release him, and he hits the table as I slide the spatula across his ass, parting his cheeks and then spanking him as he cries. I watch the welts form across his skin, and I can’t help myself. I part his cheeks once more and press my thumb against his hole.

He cries out, hitting his head against the table as he shakes below me. “Pretty girl, I’m going to fucking come if you don’t stop.”

“Not yet you’re not,” I tell him as I spank him at the same time I slide my thumb into him, past the ring of muscles. The sound he lets out isn’t even human. His whole body shakes, and his hips smash into the table as I play with him.

This big, bad rock star comes completely undone for me, and it’s fucking addictive.

I slide my thumb deeper and pull out, fucking him with it as I bring the spatula down. My name is a constant cry on his lips as he pushes back, demanding more. Words fall from his mouth he will regret later, but it’s so fucking hot having the great Chase Reed helpless for me, unable to control himself.

“Please, Beck, please, pretty girl—fuck. Harder, fuck me harder,” he pleads.

“You beg so goddamn sweetly, rock star,” I purr as I slide my thumb deeper, and the noise he makes is guttural. Red welts decorate his ass, and I lean down to lick them as I finger his ass. I drop the spatula to the table and slide my hand around, gripping his balls.

He’s close, so when I feel him about to break, I pull out and step back.

He gasps, confused for a moment before he whirls. His eyes are wild, and his pretty mouth is parted for me.

“Beck,” he says, aghast.

“Say thank you, Mommy, for punishing me,” I demand with a wicked grin as I step closer until he’s practically sitting on the table. A little hiss escapes him as his sore ass hits the wood.

His eyes burn. “Thank you for punishing me, Mommy.”

“Say, please, let me come, Mommy,” I demand, waiting with an arched brow. I’ll never tell him my pussy is so wet, I’m dripping through my underwear. No, this is about him. He’s wilder than I’ve ever seen him, but also freer. Chase is gone, and in his place is just a man begging for what he wants.

“Please, Mommy, let me come,” he begs.

“Good boy,” I praise. “You get two thrusts.” I wrap my hand around his cock and squeeze. His head falls back in extreme pleasure, his eyes squeezed shut as he thrusts into my hand like it’s my pussy. He thrusts again, and with a yell I’m pretty sure those outside the bus can hear, he spills in my hand.

I grip his cock, wringing each drop of pleasure from him until he slumps back against the table, breathing heavily. His pants are still around his ankles, and he has a wild, confused look in his eyes. “I’ve never come so fucking hard,” he whispers.

Smirking, I hold my hand out to him. “You made a mess. Clean it up.” He leans down, and I step back, tutting. “That’s not how you clean up. On your knees, rock star.”

He drops to his knees like he’s in a temple, and he’s looking at me with something that drives my heartbeat crazy—utter obsession. I am his weakness, his entire focus. Fuck me, there isn’t anything like it.

I am Chase Reed’s religion right now, I am his everything, and I want this forever.

“Open your mouth,” I order.

His mouth drops open, and I press my hand to his lips. He groans, his nostrils flaring as he struggles to breathe. I hold him like that before pulling back and offering him my palm. “Now lick.”

Grabbing my wrist, he swipes his wet, warm tongue along my palm, cleaning every drop of his cum. The sight makes me weak, and the heat of his tongue makes my core clench. “Can you taste yourself?” I murmur, my voice husky.

He nods, licking harder until there’s nothing left, and I pull my hand away. “Good job, now get to your feet.”

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