Page 104 of Wicked Serve

I groan at the thought as I gather her hair over her shoulder. “So goddamn pretty like this, Isabelle, all on display for me.”

“Nik,” she breathes, pressing her face against my thigh. I rest a hand on her back to steady her. “I wanna feel it.”

“I know, sweetheart. You’re good like that.”

I pick up the hairbrush. It’s pink—no surprise there—with an oval shape and a handle I can grip comfortably. I run the edge down her spine, stopping just before her ass. I flip it around, slapping the smooth side against one cheek. She whimpers, her hand slipping down to dig into my calf.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So good.” She spreads her legs wider. “Give it to me harder.”

I smack the other cheek, then flip the brush and hit her with the bristled side. She gasps sharply, grinding against my leg as best she can in this position. I build up a rhythm, alternating between the two; she sobs as I spread her cheeks and spank over her hole. I shudder at that beautiful sound, my free hand digging into her firm thigh. I’m so fucking hard, my dick jolts with each breath.

But even though I’m feeling the ache bone-deep, I stay focused, controlled. She’s at my mercy, and that comes with responsibility. I murmur praise all the while, soothing her skin with my palm in between smacks.

When her ass is a gorgeous deep pink, I slip my hand between her legs to widen them, then smack over her cunt with the back of the hairbrush. It comes away glistening with slick as her body jerks with surprise.

“Look at you,” I whisper. “My perfect fucking girl, so messy already.”

“More,” she says breathily. “I need more, please—”

I don’t think; one moment we’re on the couch, the next on the floor. I slot my mouth against hers, hands roaming everywhere they can reach. She runs her hands through my hair, jerking on the ends. I wrestle out of my clothes, kissing her all the while.

“Need to taste you,” I rasp against her stomach. I lick her belly button. “I can’t believe how wet that got you.”

“Wait, wait,” she says before I can dive lower. “I want to taste you, too.”

It takes a little maneuvering, but eventually, we both end up on our sides. My head’s buried between her legs, which are clamped tightly around me as she mouths at my dick. The position is new, but it’s worth it for the dueling sensations. As she sucks me, I lose myself in the utter heaven of her soaked pussy. Every moan, every gasp, every whimper—I feel it as well as hear it, heightening my pleasure. I know she’s feeling the same way, judging by the way her body shakes.

She cups my balls, massaging them as she takes me into her throat. I clench my ass with a moan. My tongue’s inside her, and she must feel the reverberations of my voice, because her grip around my head tightens deliciously. I’d be content to stay here forever, caught between her legs, marveling in her seductive, almost sweet taste. I press my face against her inner thigh, digging my blunt nails into her sore bottom, and bite, hard. She comes with a cry, half-muffled by my cock.

“Fuck.” I laugh breathlessly against her skin. My balls tighten; her honeyed voice is too much. “You take what I give you so goddamn well.”

As if in answer, she urges me deeper into her mouth, sucking hard. I explode, panting against her pussy as I spend down her throat. It’s too quick to pull back, but she swallows, her moan answer enough about whether she likes it. My blood roars with near-feral satisfaction at the thought of her drinking my seed. We might be coming down from the peak, but part of me is still inside her.

For a long, sweaty minute, neither of us speaks. Then the cat breaks the silence with a plaintive meow. We burst into laughter, rolling away from each other.

“Way to ruin the mood, Tangerine,” she says as she sits up, shaking out her hair.

“You’re the one who wanted domestic,” I say, kissing her temple. Her face is flushed, lips pleasantly swollen. I haul her into my lap, double-checking that I didn’t hit her too hard. She won’t bruise, but her skin’s still a beautiful shade of pink. Whenever we do something like this, I always need to make certain that I kept myself in check. I can’t let it go too far.

“Good?” I check quietly.

“Perfect,” she says with a shiver.

Tangerine inches closer, swiping a paw at my arm. I scratch her behind the ears.

“Do we have a cat, then?” she asks. “If we’re playing house? I thought you’d want a dog.”

“I would like a dog,” I admit. “My dad never wanted an animal in the house. Grandfather didn’t either.”

“What would you name it?”

“Maybe something hockey related.”

“That sounds nice.”

I half smile. Yeah. It does sound nice. “Dinner?”

---