Page 83 of Westin

I’m hot all over, unable to speak. No one has ever wanted me the way Westin does. It leaves me breathless.

“Palms on the bed,” he says.

I obey, spreading them and sinking down to my elbows.

“That’s a good girl,” he rumbles. His fingers work the lube over my asshole, making my face burn.

He doesn’t have any shame when it comes to sex. I’m sure tonight is just the tip of the iceberg.

I shiver. Deep inside, I want to know just how far he’s willing to go.

His fingers work over my sensitive opening. The tip dips in. I bite my tongue and close my eyes. His other hand rests on my hip, holding me in place as he works the tip of the plug against my opening.

“Relax, darling,” he says, kneading me with his fingers.

I focus, trying to obey. He pushes, and there’s a split second of pain, and then it’s inside me, bigger than his finger, but less intrusive. Maybe it’s because it’s smooth and he’s rough. Experimentally, I wriggle my hips, and the plug rubs against all the right places.

He bends over me. “Does it feel good?”

I nod. He nuzzles his face into the back of my neck.

“Sit back on your heels,” he says, moving off me.

I obey and he rumbles his approval. “Now, put your palms on your thighs, upward facing. Good girl. Open your mouth.”

Tentatively, I obey. He took something else from the closet—a little velvet bag. From it, he pulls a strip of leather with a metal buckle.

It’s a ball gag.

My thighs tense. My pussy responds, already dripping from the plug. He kneels one leg against the edge of the bed, brushing back my flyaway hairs.

“If you need out, you hit my arm or leg,” he says. “I’m going to ease you in, so no hand restraints this time.”

So it gets worse?

My mouth is open, but somehow, my jaw drops as he dips the ball gag between my thighs. I feel it, round and smooth, against my pussy. He drags it up over my clit, back and forth. His head dips, and he captures my nipple between his teeth and flicks it with his tongue.

Oh God. My body quivers.

“Keep your mouth open.” He moves to my other nipple. “It’s alright to drip a little.”

His voice is hoarse, sitting low in his chest. The ball gag moves over my clit in slow circles. My mouth starts salivating as soon as I start thinking about it, but I don’t pull my tongue back. It drips down between my breasts. He licks it off my skin.

His eyes dart up, intense, impossible to read.

The gag moves faster. The pressure increases.

“Come for me, you pretty slut,” he breathes. “You can do it. Give me one more.”

He takes my nipple in his mouth and grazes it with his teeth. Heat plummets through my veins. My body coils and releases so fast, all I can do is let out a sharp cry as I come. He moans, pushing the gag up against my pussy so I can ride it.

I can hear how soaked I am.

Pleasure ebbs, leaving me hot and shaky. He lifts his head and sits up, pulling the gag from between my legs.

“Good girl,” he says.

I nod, but before I can speak, he slips the gag between my lips and fastens it beneath my hair. The taste of what he did to me blossoms over my tongue: sweet, with a slight tang and a hint of his cum. I try to swallow as I start salivating, but the gag blocks me. Wetness slips from the corner of my mouth and etches down my neck.

---