Page 133 of Beneath the Burn

“Unngh. Jesus.” The other cheek pulsed in time with the first. Liquid heat gushed to her pussy. “Again.”

The belt clattered to the floor, and she buried her face in the mattress. “You suck.”

“As you wish.” His hands slid over her inflamed cheeks, spread them, and his mouth sealed over her folds, sucking and licking.

The bedding bunched in her curling fingers where her arms were stretched, tied down near the headboard. He went after her clit with probing fingers as his tongue delved in and out and along her labium. Her insecurity over her scars drifted away under his affection.

The wet slurp of his saliva and her arousal layered the air. After his metal fingered foreplay, the lingering burn on her ass, and his demanding tongue, the climb toward orgasm dangled, a distant promise, but a promise nonetheless.

His mouth disappeared, and hard rubber pressed against the pucker of her ass. “How long has it been, Charlee?” He nudged it against her, not inserting, just a pressing threat.

She arched her hips, tried to push against it. Ugh, she wanted to propel past this without examining the reasons why.

“How long?”

Damn him. “Three years.” It had been one of the few limits she set in her contractual negotiations with the Doms. She carried most of her scars there, but the memories cut much deeper.

The rubber tip moved away, and he lowered his body over her back. The heavy weight of him pressed her into the bed, suffocating and wonderfully comforting.

His breath was warm and steady at her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you there like he did, even if you think that’s what you need. No figging—”

She bucked, wanting the burn from the ginger. Needing it.

“Now hang on a minute. I’ve never done this, and you’re obviously trying to speed past a painful barrier. That’s not the right approach, Charlee.”

Acid turned through her gut. It would tear and bleed, but she wanted proof that nothing could hurt her anymore. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

He stroked the hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her jaw. “Shh. I know. We’ll ease into it.”

Those gentle fingers were influential things. They fluttered over her cheek, lulling, mastering the strain of her muscles until her face was slack with gravity.

The mattress bounced, and his weight lifted. The rub of leather rustled through his movements around the bed. His palm slipped under her belly, lifting. Soft plastic, a rubber ball by the feel of it, pressed against her clit. In the next breath, it filled the room with a loud buzz and shot a jolt of vibration through her pussy.

“Hitachi wand. Best clit stimulator from what I’m told.”

No fucking shit. She pulled her hips up to escape it. His hand caught her waist and pressed her back down.

Oh God, it was so overwhelming, everything below her waist was beginning to numb. Which might’ve explained why she didn’t notice the plug easing into her ass until he popped it past the ring of muscle.

Ahhhh. No pain. Only a heavenly tingle and a dominating sense of fullness. Never had pleasure accompanied anything penetrating her ass. Was this what it was supposed to feel like?

The buzz of the wand increased that pleasure, winding her tighter and tighter. Her arousal concentrated, contracting, building. “Jay. Fuck. Oh God.”

His hands caressed her ass, her back, and paused to knead her shoulders. His lips followed the same path until they veered off and met hers. He licked her gaping mouth, circled his tongue inside. “Come, Charlee. Come, now.”

It was there, teetering, ready to spill. She rocked against the powerful whir of the wand and clenched the muscles in her ass, reaching, straining—

Whack.

Pain zapped across the back of her thigh and all the air rushed from her lungs in a surge of body-stunned pleasure. An immense feeling of elation swam through her, ripping away everything except the trembling bliss taking over her body and the man consuming her mouth. It arched her back, emptied her thoughts, and weighted her limbs. So fucking good. Better than any before it. The best sensation she’d ever experienced. She floated through it, fevered and sated.

The vibrator clicked off, and he rose on his knees. “Ready for another?”

Jesus. She panted, lost to the residual tremors tickling through her body.

The ties at her ankles loosened, released. His arms came around her torso, flipping her, the rope crossing above her head.

“So you liked the garden pole? Should’ve started with that, hmm?” He smiled down at her looking pretty damned pleased with himself. As he should’ve been. He’d rocked her. Hard.

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