Page 35 of Never Say Yes To A Stranger

I am playing with all sorts of fire here. The most dangerous kind, the kind that can explode in my face, is the kind that can sue me and wreck my reputation as a professional.

Not that Ignacia would do that.

It’s worse than that.

She’s the kind of woman who has the power to do something to me that I can’t undo. She’s already under my skin, grating on every one of my last nerves like a goddamn carrot peeler—wait. I can’t even get my metaphors right because my brain is so scrambled.

“Eat my pussy, Beau. Please,” she pleads.

Look at me, setting a world record for how fast I flip Ignacia onto her back. She’s facing the wrong direction, her head at the foot of the bed, but I don’t care. I’m tearing off her shorts and taking in the gorgeous bareness of her because she’s not wearing panties. She doesn’t wear panties to bed. At least she didn’t tonight. Christ. That literally scrambles my brain.

I slip my hands underneath her. She’s so soft. Her skin is literally the world’s softest skin. It’s a thing. Her scent is a thing. I love that she’s all-natural, her soft blonde curls framing her perfection. One taste of her, and I know I’m fucked. I’m pretty sure she was created precisely for me to lick like this, to part her and feast on her. I’m also almost a hundred percent certain my hair was meant for her hands to tug on, especially when I find her clit and trace it with my tongue. She’s delicious. Perfection incarnate. I have to taste inside her, and she rides my face when I do, clenching around my damn tongue.

I usually don’t do this, not because I think oral sex is gross. I don’t do this because it’s a level of intimacy I’m not okay with. That goes for the giving and the receiving.

But with Ignacia?

Not only should I not be doing this with my tongue or my fingers, or this in fucking general, but I can’t stop. I need it. Ineed her. I need to be inside her with every part of my damn body. For the love of…of…all things. Just all things. Hmm, I didn’t mean it in that way. I meant…yeah. You know what I meant.

I slip my finger inside her and let her tight walls clench all over it while I circle her clit with gentle passes of my tongue. “More,” she pants.

I lick her clit again. More. Harder.

“More fingers,” she clarifies breathily.

My dick nearly punches through two layers of fabric, and my balls aren’t doing so shit hot on the not-exploding scene. This woman? She’s going to kill me. She thought it would happen by feeding me two cookies. No, wrong. It’s by asking for more of my fingers.

I give her one more, and fuck, she’s so tight now. She rides against them, her hips pumping. She’s given up on my hair, putting her hands on her breasts and circling her nipples through her T-shirt.

It’s official.

I’m dead.

Her breasts are pert but not small. They’re perfectly round, a handful to her own hands. And her nipples are hard through her T-shirt. Hard and obvious and so damn irresistible.

“More,” she whimper-moans. “More fingers.”

“Okay, fuck that. I’m not giving you more fingers.”

She tears her eyes open, and her whole body goes rigid. “You will do as I say!” And then, she breaks into laughter. And whimpers because the laughter tightens all her muscles, and I still have my fingers inside her, and I’m panting all over her clit. “What if I say please?” she asks.

She’s insane. And…it’s hot and irresistible. I like that she asks for what she wants, and when it’s not enough, she demands it. “Still no.”

“Oh. Maybe I’ve been a bad girl. Maybe you shouldpunishme.”

What the shit?

“I—don’t punish people in bed.”

“Oh.” She blinks at me. “How sad for me.” Then, she blinks again, turning serious this time. “Oh, you really mean it.”

“What kind of punishment?”Why am I even asking this?

“I don’t know. Spankings? You could spank me for being bad and trying to take charge, for demanding more fingers. Then you could kiss it better after. I’d be extra wet, and you could punish me for that too, but the more spankings you give me, the wetter I’m going to get.”

I don’t want a history disclosure here, but I do want to know if this is her thing. If she…if…okay, I want to know how much experience she has with this.

“None,” she answers, doing that eerie reading-my-mind thing. “I’ve never been spanked. I’ve never asked to be spanked. I do want to sit down tomorrow morning and all that, so blistering my bottom red isn’t really high up on my list of fantasies, but like, a good smack on each cheek?”

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