Page 33 of Bully

Maybe it was the buildup, the excitement, or hell, maybe it was just because I loved sex so much, but I came.

I came so hard it felt like my spirit was leaving my body as I arched into him with everything I had, riding out the pleasure and begging for more as I moaned and mewled for him. He turned his lips to the inside of my thigh and moaned against it, even though I couldn’t hear the noise, I felt it.

I felt him.

Needed him.

The orgasm did nothing to sate my need for more though, somehow it had intensified it as if it was just a taste of what he could give me, and I was ravenous for more.

“Please.” I sighed; not even sure he could hear me.

“No.” He replied with that same deep voice that made it hard to hear clearly if I didn’t try. “Thank me.”

No, no, no, not a fucking praise and power kink. My ultimate weakness. I silently pleaded with the sex goddesses. His perfection overwhelmed me, and I was lost to him.

“Thank you.” I moaned as he palmed both of my bare breasts as his teeth nipped the inside of my ankle.

“Good girl.”

Fuck, I was so screwed. The man was going to turn me into a waterfall for him with my stupid praise kink.

My hands flexed, desperate to dig my nails into something, overwhelmed me. A second later I felt him pull the buckle on my wrist cuff free. As soon as my hand was free, I found the front of his shirt and pulled him into me, until the front of his pants pressed against my bare pussy.

He chuckled and then groaned when I turned my wrist and palmed his erection through his tight pants. I tried to feel all of him, but I couldn’t reach down far enough to feel the head of his dick where it throbbed down his leg.

Both of his hands landed on my knees, and he spread them wider as I turned my attention to his belt, as if he was silently giving me permission to explore him. Screw exploring him. I wanted his dick free and buried deep inside of me.

I wanted to feel it sliding in and out of me more than I wanted anything else.

More than that, though, I wanted him to feel how damn good I felt wrapped around him. I craved his pleasure as much as my own. The need to make him feel good and prove I was worthy built inside of my gut with each second of time that I struggled with his button and zipper.

It wasn’t as if I could reach him easily, thanks to the padding under my chin, keeping me immobilized, but I didn’t stop.

His hands roamed my body, tweaking my nipples, rubbing my clit, massaging my calves. They left my skin at one point and I bit my lip to stop a pathetic beg for them to come back from slipping free. His hips moved and then he stepped back, leaving me completely untouched and no matter how far I reached, I couldn’t find him again.

“Please.” My lack of willpower caused me to beg him, and he rewarded me by throwing something fabric onto my body. Using my freed hand, I felt it, lifting it and realized it was a button-up shirt, still warm from his body heat.

He was stripping for me.

Something told me he was sexy, even if I couldn’t see him. His thighs and stomach had been tight when he let me explore him before backing up. Was he young or old? Tall or short? Was he the dark and broody type, or did he smile as he fucked his women?

Before I could wonder about anything else, his hot hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled my palm against his bare abdomen as he stepped between my thighs again.

Fuck—he was ripped.

My fingertips wandered over his abs like braille, reading his body for more clues before dropping to the delicious V at his adonis belt before desperately searching for what I wanted to feel most.

I heard the faint noise of his chuckle before he turned my hand over, palm up, and then his heavy cock landed in it. “Is that what you’re looking for?”

I gripped my hand around his veined cock and stroked it until I finally reached the thick, bulbous head. Damn, I had seen a lot of dicks in my life, but judging by feeling only, I had never taken one with such a thick head on it before.

He stepped forward, pressing against the back of my thighs again as his heavy cock slapped against my stomach.

He shifted and then rolled a condom over the head of his dick and paused. “Tell me to fuck you. Beg me for it.”

Words weren’t needed, nor would they serve me or him. There was something more animalistic between us and how our bodies vibed. So, I used my body to beg him, to consent, to convince him.

Wrapping my hand around his cock, I rubbed the head against my wetness, coating it and lining him up where we both wanted him to be. And then I pulled him in, forcing him to penetrate me.

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