Page 34 of Black Velvet

"Yes," I breathe hoarsely. My voice sounds weak and lacks the resolve it normally carries, but my answer is clear nonetheless. "Yes. Very much."

"Do you like this?" He probes, squeezing my ass. The grip comes so suddenly and with such force that I can't suppress a moan of pain. His fingers pinch into my flesh, sparking a familiar thrill, before he releases the tension just a second later.

Oh, God, I need more of that.

I don't need to verbalize my reply, because the sigh that escapes my lips is telling enough.

"You like it rough, don't you," he assumes. "You like to be bent over and fucked, hard. You like to be spanked and have your hair pulled. You like to be used like a little fuck doll and have your tight little cunt stretched by a big, thick, voracious cock, fucking you until you beg him to stop. Don't you?"

My heart is pounding. Every sentence, every word eggs me on, causing the voice inside my head to scream, "Yes! Yes! Yes!", while my body boils lustily with desire. Shit. I don't think I've ever been this horny.

"You like it when men make you scream, when they make you beg, when they take from you until there's nothing left," he goes on, fueling my excitement. "You like to feel the brute force of their cocks inside you even days after they've used you. Don't you?"

My chest heaves. I'm panting as if I'd just run ten miles to get here, as if he'd chased me up and down the stairs instead of just making me stand here and listen to his words. I'm watching him study me, barely touching me in the process.

He's driving me insane.

I'm frantically trying to catch my breath, but the way he's looking at me now is only making things worse. I can feel his dark eyes nearly penetrating me, watching every move I make, relishing in the sight of my heavy breathing.

"Spread your legs apart," he says in a low voice, inciting me to move by pinching my ass again.

I widen my stance, tiptoeing wider on my naked feet until he seems satisfied. Without my heels on, I'm so much shorter than he is, a feeling that's rare for me. I love how he towers over me. It's intimidating, making me feel overpowered even when he's not doing anything other than just standing next to me.

He lets go of my ass and suddenly I’m unbalanced, feeling lost without his touch. For a moment, I fear that he may move away again to stare at me from afar. I don't want him to go, to leave me standing on display like that again.

But he doesn't walk away. Instead, he steps in front of me, standing so close that our bodies touch in various places, the thick fabric of his suit brushing against my skin. The open jacket tickles my nipples, making me react with arousal. He raises an eyebrow in warning, and I can feel his erection poking my lower belly.

I look up at him, awaiting his next orders. Will he finally let me touch him? It doesn't seem right that I'm completely naked while he's still fully dressed.

He narrows his eyes as he locks me in place with his intense glare.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

His question echoes through the room, but I can't find my voice to answer him, because I'm too overwhelmed. My lips move, but nothing except a hoarse croak comes out when I try to say yes.

"Of course," I choke out instead, after clearing my throat.

"How?"

"How?" I repeat.

"How do you want me to fuck you?"

"I... err... I mean. How..."

"Tell me, Elene," he cuts me off. "Or it won't happen."

It won't happen? Is he saying that nothing is going to happen if I don't tell him how I want him to take me? He can't be serious.

"Rough," I exclaim, blood rushing to my face. "I want you to be rough with me."

"Here?" he probes.

"Yes," I reply. "Fuck me. Here. Now."

The smile on his face darkens, a dark shadow accompanying the crease of his eyebrows.

"I don't respond well to orders," he says.

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