Page 32 of Wicked Games

Richard was talking but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. My head bobbed as I forced myself to concentrate.

“…going to hurt.”

That was my only warning.

Richard thrust in deep. Choking me.

I couldn’t breathe. Guttural gurgling sounds were all I could manage as his flesh pierced my throat. Pulling on my binds, I bucked my hips but that only forced him in deeper as he leaned into it.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded.

I obeyed. Pushing my heavy lids open, I looked up past his muscled physique to his intense dark eyes. They stared back at me as if they could see straight into my dark and twisted soul. There was no hiding from him that secretly I was craving this from a man.

A rough touch.

The confidence to just take what he wanted without asking.

The primal wrongness of it all.

I wanted it all. Needed it.

His thrusts came harder and faster. My tongue felt swollen and bruised. My throat and jaw ached. I could feel thick streams of spittle and pre-come slip over my lips and chin as I struggled to breathe through my nose.

Still all of this was through a haze of intense arousal that kept me from thinking too deeply about what was happening. It filtered out all but my most raw reactions to his touch—to his manhandling. Allowed me the freedom to feel without guilt… the regret and recriminations would come later.

As if echoed down a long hallway, I heard him groan. Richard then lurched back, pulling his cock free. I felt a strange sense of emptiness.

“Push out your tongue.”

Stretching my tongue, I pushed it out as far as I could. I watched in suspended fascination as Richard fisted his cock and moved his hand up and down so fast it was a blur to my hazy gaze. Then there was the salty taste of his come as it coated my tongue and splashed against the back of my throat.

“Eyes on me.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him as he towered over me, like a conquering Viking. Placing his forearm at the side of my head, he leaned down and swept his thumb over my lower lip, coating it with his fast-cooling come before sliding it into my mouth. All I could do was lie there as it slid down the back of my throat.

I licked my sore and cracked lips.

My voice was hoarse and low. “Are you going to untie me now?”

“No. Now it’s your turn.”

He shifted his body down to wedge his large shoulders between my spread open thighs. Before I could even utter a protest, I felt the slightly rough swipe of his tongue.

Oh, God.

In the past, I’ve never really enjoyed oral sex. I guess I was always too much in my head to enjoy it. Worrying about what I tasted like, if my pussy hair was short enough, if I looked pretty down there. Then I would worry I was taking too long and the guy was probably only doing it out of obligation and I would start to feel anxious and guilty and eventually just pretend to come to get the whole stressful event over with.

That wasn’t the case with Richard.

Between his masterful touch and the expert swipes of his tongue, all inhibitions were gone. My only thought was of my own selfish pleasure and it was emancipating. I had never come so hard or so completely in my entire life.

Afterward the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire and the slow and steady tick of the clock over the mantel. Unlike other men who sprang up the moment you were done as if the school bell had just been rung, Richard stayed nestled between my thighs. I could feel the warm brush of his breath against my inner thigh. In many ways, that was more intimate than what he had just done.

Eventually he rose.

From the bed, I watched as he got dressed, once more every inch the gentleman. Richard approached the bed. Running the backs of his knuckles over the exposed slope of my breast, he leaned over to give me a chaste kiss on the forehead. “Sleep well, my love.”

Tears formed in my eyes as he covered me with a large down blanket that he retrieved from a chest at the end of the bed. The last thing he did was blow out the candles before leaving me without another word.

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