Page 64 of Heart of Stone

Feeling more than willing, I easily pushed away the thought that we were moving to fast and allowed myself to just feel the pleasure of his touch. The throbbing between my spread thighs intensified and I ached to be satisfied.

“So wet,” he murmured, slipping one finger inside of me. I wanted to cry out from sheer ecstasy, but felt embarrassed by how turned on I was and held back.

He pulled his finger back out and ran it up my wet slit, spreading the moisture around. His thumb circled my clit as his finger moved back to push rhythmically in and out of me. Gathering my hair together with his free hand, he forced my head back, allowing his mouth better access to my neck. I moaned in pleasure from grazing of his lips and the torturous in and out motion of his hand.

“You like this,” he said, voice rough, as his hand tugged harder at my hair. Fire coursed through me, the ache turning into something vicious, and I could only moan again in response. “You want to come.”

“Yes, please!” I shamelessly begged. My body tried to writhe under the power of his circling thumb, but he held me still, not allowing me to move.

“I want to show you how you can come for me. Pain and pleasure, Krystina. Are you sure that you want to know?”

My body strained against him. I didn’t care what he did to me, just as long as he continued doing that with his hand.

“Yes, Alex. I want to know,” I breathed. He pulled his hand away, leaving me empty and gasping for more.

“Stand up and bend over the table.”

“Um, e-excuse me?” I stuttered over the question. My brain was in a fog and didn’t think that I had heard him correctly.

“I want you to bend over dining room table,” he repeated.

I slowly stood on shaky legs, my body trembling from the onslaught to my senses. I hesitated for a moment, the rational side of me rearing its ugly head.

Why does he want me bent over the table?

Alexander was able to read the uncertainty in my eyes, and he shook his head back and forth in a scolding manner. I suppressed the questions that swirled, and allowed him to turn me so that I was facing the table.

He pressed his hand to the small of my back and nudged me down so that I was bent at the waist, chest on the table. He pulled my arms up so that they were stretched over my head, locking them in a viselike grip with one hand. His body pressed into my back, and I could feel his hardness straining through his jeans. His other hand moved down past my waist to raise my skirt over my hips.

“I’ve wanted to tie up these fidgeting hands from the first minute I saw you.” His voice was hoarse in my ear. “But I don’t feel like wasting time going to get what I need. So for now, just leave them above your head and don’t move. I want you to be still.”

Oh, shit.He wants to physically tie me up!

I felt his weight shift as he moved to stand up behind me. He looped a finger under my panties, and slowly slipped them down my legs. I felt a shiver run down my spine in anticipation, as he worked his way back up my legs, leaving a trail of kisses along the back of my knees and thighs. His hands moved slowly over my behind, molding my cheeks in his palms.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. “Now open your legs for me, Krystina.”

I wavered, feeling exposed and vulnerable in this position. He must have sensed my reluctance, because he coaxed my legs apart and inserted his finger back between the soft folds of my entrance. He began that torturous circular motion all over again, while his other hand continued to caress my backside. The pleasure was unbearable and I moved my hands down to my sides, searching for something to hang onto.

He stopped suddenly, making me cry out in frustration.

“No, damn it – don’t stop,” I pleaded. I hated that I was begging, but I couldn’t help it if I tried. I was too far gone.

“Put your hands back above your head. I told you not to move them.”

I hurriedly put them back, my desire a violent force that I couldn’t control. It felt so good I wanted to scream from the feverish hunger that blazed inside me.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, and then with deliberate slowness, he began circling inside of me once again. “Have you ever heard of an erotic spanking?”

If he had asked me that question two days ago, I would have laughed in his face. The term just sounded ridiculous. But today, I could only hum in pleasure at the mere suggestion of it.

I felt a second finger slip inside me, curving and stroking the sensitive tissues. I closed my eyes, enjoying the electrifying sensation of his flexing fingers. In a matter of seconds, I was almost to the breaking point, a roar beginning in my ears.

His fingers pushed deeper inside of me and stilled.

“Oh, no…please –,” I started. But my words were cut off abruptly from the feel of a hard smack that he landed on my ass. I cried out, but not from pain. It was because of the constant stop and go of his merciless hand. He rubbed the cheek that he had slapped and then continued his assault with his fingers once again.

A second slap. The sting was more apparent this time, but his fingers didn’t stop, keeping up their perpetual rhythm.

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