Page 62 of Deeply Examined

“Fine,” I snap out, irritated. “I want you to lick my pussy. Happy?”

The grin that stretches across his face is wide, radiant. “Delighted,” he says. He easily lifts me into his lap and lays down beneath me. Pressing my ass, he inches me up his body.

I wobble, dangerously close to the edge of the examination table, which is really more of a firm, flat bed.

“What’re you doing?” I throw my arms out, balancing like I’m walking a tightrope.

“I want you to ride my face,” he says huskily, like the idea turns him on just as much as it does me.

“Oh—uh—okay.”

I’ve never done that before.

It takes a minute to get settled with my thighs on each side of his head. I stay upright, suddenly shy. “I’m going to smush you.”

He snickers at that, as close to a giggle as I’ve ever heard from him, and I can’t help but grin in response. It’s a gift. Every laugh, every smile I coax out of West feels like a victory. Like I’ve won a fucking gold medal.

“You won’tsmushme, pretty girl.” His hands glide from my thighs to my hips and in one swift motion he jerks me down, so I land on his face with the full weight of my body.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” I yell, convinced I broke his nose. He must be fine because he pulls me harder against him and ravages me with his tongue, licking, stroking, and thrusting it against my already wet pussy.

“Shit.” I collapse against him, unable to bear my weight as my body succumbs to the pleasure. His hands grip my hips, raising and lowering me so the sensation alternates between more intense to less and back again.

I lose control, grinding against him. I chase the high he offers. It’s in me, the orgasm, growing with each brush of his lips and tongue. I’m almost there when he lifts me off him and flips us around so I’m under him.

I cry out in protest, which makes him chuckle, a sinister sound.

“I don’t think you’ve been properly examined yet tonight, Ms. Jones.” He yanks me down to the edge of the table and whips out the stirrups.

I’m still whimpering and complaining when he slots my feet into each stirrup and then ties my ankles to the stirrups with leather straps. He’s humming cheerily as he binds my wrists above my head, tying them into metal rings that were placed there for just that purpose. I wiggle against the restraints, annoyed and turned on in equal measure.

West pushes the stirrups out, spreading me wide. His back to me, he rummages in one of the cupboards above the sink.

“It’s my turn to play,” he says when he comes back with silver instruments in each hand. “Hemostats.” He holds them up. Clicks them open and closed a few times with a loud ratcheting sound. They look a little like pliers. He points to the middle of one. “This locking mechanism will hold them closed. Don’t worry, though. I’ll pad them so they won’t hurt…not too bad anyway.” His eyes glimmer with a sadistic gleam.

Crap.

Fear stirs in my gut, a noxious swirl that mixes with my arousal and—God help me—heightens it. I’m learning I like it, this dangerous collision of emotions, of sensation. Sweet with spicy. Hot with cold. I strain not away from him, like a sensible person would, but toward him.

West sends me a knowing look, like he always knew this darkness was inside me. Like he thinks it’s beautiful.

He lectures while he works between my legs. “These outer lips are the labia majora, and the inner, smaller ones are the labia minora.” Gently he clamps my folds together in the hemostats.

I moan at the pinch of my tender flesh, at the stretch of it as he bares me to the cool air. I’m a butterfly, spread wide, wings pinned open.

“This will hold everything out of the way, so there’s no resistance when I sink into you.” He slips the black lab coat from his shoulders and lets it drop to the floor. His pants and underwear follow.

A condom and then he’s pushing into me with a sigh, like this is his version of heaven.

“You’re perfect, Ms. Jones. A perfect fit,” he whispers huskily, his gaze unfocused, his breathing uneven.

He grabs each hemostat and pulls them to the sides. It hurts, a burn that washes up my inner thighs, but it’s countered by the stroke of his cock against my G-spot as he thrusts into me. My back bows as I groan, and his voice answers mine with a guttural sound that I’ve never heard before. It’s primal and erotic. Pleasure spirals up into my low belly, tightening it, and then moving to my chest, which heaves.

This must feel good to West too, because soon he’s rutting into me like a beast, like he wants to burrow into my body and make it his new home. He glances at the hemostats every few minutes, obviously enjoying the sight of them melded to my skin.

That tingling, tightening tension grows and grows in me. My body pulls together into a ball of concentrated energy. I’m electrons in a cloud moving together until I burst into lightning. I’m a bomb lit by a single match. I’m a swirling storm about to rip apart an unsuspecting village. I’m so small, yet multiplied into infinity when I’m joined with him like this.

We come together, crying out in unison as he slams into me one last time and then freezes with his eyes squeezed shut like he wants to memorize this moment. To hold onto it forever. When he opens his eyes again and looks down at me, I know it. It’s there shining and unspoken.

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