Page 106 of Beautiful Scar

Although I can safeword out of this scenario at any time, and there’s a key attached to the post within reach in case of emergencies.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” He smirks as he bends over me. His fingers rub down my back, sending aching shivers along my spine. The man is so good with those dangerous, callused hands. I’m starting to feel pretty darn great when he spanks me again, totally out of nowhere.

“What was that for?” I whine, glaring at him.

“You were enjoying it too much. What’s the point of pleasure without a little pain to make it that much sweeter?”

“I don’t know, pleasure’s kind of its own reward,” I grumble as he rubs my lower back.

“Oh, pleasure’s good, but it can always be better.” He helps me raise my hips into the air. I’m wearing only a black lacy thong. It might as well be tissue paper when he tears it off my skin.

“How’s that?” I ask, panting with desire now.

He runs a hand slowly between my legs, caressing my slit. “I can do this.” He pauses to roll a thumb along my clit. It feels so freaking good, but he’s barely touching it. “And I can do this.”

He spanks me again, and again, and when my ass must be bright pink with his palm print, he buries his fingers inside my aching pussy.

“Oh my god,” I moan, easing myself back against him as far as the cuffs will allow. “I think I’m starting to see what you mean.”

He chuckles darkly as his fingers do their work. I want to pray to the feet of whatever God made my husband’s gorgeous freaking fingers and gave him the ability to use them because it must be divine intervention.

I sure as hell see angels every time he touches my pussy.

“You need contrasts in life. Too much routine, too much boredom—” Another spanking. This time it’s followed by his wet fingers sliding into my mouth. I grunt and mumble as I suck my juices off him. “Too much of anything and you lose the sweetness. But a little contrast…”

He pops his fingers from my lips. I could suck on them forever. I worship his damn hands as he spanks me again, and this time, he gives me what I want and strokes my pussy with a steady rhythm.

“A little contrast makes you melt on my fucking fingers like the dirty little slut you are.”

God damn it. I gasp, arching against him, tugging at my restraints. But my husband knows his craft, and there’s no give in the silk cord that attaches the end of the cuff to the bedpost.I’m trapped face down with a hungry lion, and it’s the best thrill of my life.

He devours me. My hips are yanked up as he licks me from behind. The man callsmea filthy girl, but we both know the truth.

He’s the dirtiest man I’ve ever met in my life. He’s sin and lust, everything wet and perfect, all wrapped into a nice satin bow.

“More,” I beg as my climax builds. “Please, Tigran, I need more.”

“Call me your husband,” he orders, pulling back, palming my pussy like he owns it. “Say it, Dasha.”

“Husband. Husband. God, I’m all yours, but please, fuck me.”

He laughs again. The bastard loves this part. He gets me all riled up and at my absolute wit’s end, and he makes his little demands.

“Tell me you love my cock above all others,” he whispers.

I turn my face, cheeks burning. I watch him slowly fist himself from bottom to top, milking out a bead of clear precum.

“I love it more than anything I’ve ever seen in my life,” I whisper, holding out my tongue for him.

He guides his tip to me. I lick him, sucking him down, tasting him and needing more.

“Greedy little slut,” he croons as I try to take him into my mouth, but he doesn’t let me. Instead, he reaches to my pussy again, stroking me slowly. “You want my cock, baby?”

“Please,” I moan, edged beyond belief.

Honestly, at this point, it’s torture.

The best kind imaginable.

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