Page 56 of Break the Ice
“And?”
“He said it was only preseason. So it didn’t matter.”
“What did I tell you?”
Her lips press together for an irritated second. “You wanted me at the games.”
“Because?”
“To watch you play.”
“What’s the name of your friend?”
“If you’re probing about whether it’s a man or a woman, you can calm down. Jhene’s a—UGH!”
For the sass, I surprise her. I slap the crop to her bare pussy out of nowhere. The leather tress lands squarely on her sex and makes her body jerk against her binds.
“Less attitude. More apology.”
“I’m not sorry!” she snaps. “I’m not going say it—UGHHHH!”
The second slap comes down quicker. More forceful.
Marisse twists against the crop as if trying to snap shut her legs. She peers up at me with eyes wide and her honey-brown skin dewier than usual. She’s speechless from what just happened.
“I told you, we have all night. Why don’t you try again, Sugar?”
“I told you,” she grits out finally. “I was at dinner with my friend Jhene. Mr. Beringer was fine with it.”
“That may be.” I pace the length of the bed, up and down the side, and then I stop at the foot of it. “But I wanted you there.”
“Rafe, I never agreed.”
I rest the narrow tress against her clit and let my stare bore into her. It’s calm yet with a flicker of dark humor, making sure she’s aware of what’s about to happen. Doubt passes in her own gaze, and she parts her lips to change her mind.
“Wait, don’t—OHHH!” she screams, her body arching.
I bring down the crop. The strip of leather lashes against her clit and earns the loudest scream from her yet. Her pussy’s glistening, wetter than ever, the flesh more swollen. I lick my lips and run the tip of the crop against her slit.
I’m imagining my dick sinking inside. I’m thinking of the heat and tight clench. The way she must be throbbing—the tremble of her body tells me.
My dick pushes against the crotch of my jeans. Demanding I abandon the crop and find out for myself.
Soon. But not yet.
“You owe me an apology.” I drag the crop along her swollen, wet pussy lips some more. The leather rubs against her and makes her let out a moan.
“Sorry,” she mumbles.
“Hmmm, you’re going to have to speak up.”
More rough strokes. The leather rubs its way up and down the length of her pussy.
She sucks in some air at the friction that’s likely driving her crazy. She’s so wet, so fucking aroused, I can smell it.
The natural scent of her pussy, fragrant in the air like the most erotic perfume. My new favorite scent in the world. Pheromones that infect my bloodstream and intensify my most primal senses. If I weren’t so fucking prideful, I’d drop the crop right now and bury my face in her cunt.
It’s all I can do to clench the leather stick inside my fist and stare fixatedly as it drags along her beautifully swollen pussy.
