Page 49 of Forbidden Vows

As I come down from the high, my body relaxing in the harness, he slowly withdraws his fingers. He brings them to his lips, tasting me with a look of pure satisfaction. I watch him as he bends down, spreading my legs in the harness where they hang in the air.

And his mouth, hot and wet, is suddenly between my needy thighs.

“Oh shit!” The bad word slips from me, and I don’t even care.

My fingernails dig into the leather straps, my head lolls back, and my eyes close as I cry out. His tongue is lashing my already swollen, sensitive clit, bringing another intense orgasm to the forefront. The leather straps tighten under my thighs as he pushes my legs further apart, greedily eating me as I convulse, the word Pineapple dancing in my mind.

I shudder through the next climax. “I can’t take any more!” He laughs against me, giving me a final lapping lick.

He emerges, and cool air caresses the place he was kissing. He moves between my wide-open legs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. I rest there, a lump of Jello in the swing as he leans in to kiss me. “See how good you taste,” he says, forcing me to taste myself as his tongue parts my lips.

As he kisses me, his fingers travel back between my parted thighs. He thrusts two fingers inside me, forcing a gasp from me. He captures the sound in his kiss, his lips pressing against mine with control and pressure as his fingers leave me, trailing over the tender skin of my perineum.

Where is he going? His dominating kisses keep me quiet. He answers my unasked question by circling the tight muscles of my bottom.

He murmurs softly when he breaks our kiss, “I’ll take you here one day. Every inch of your beautiful body will belong to me.”

A bewildering swirl of sensations stirs. It's not entirely unpleasant, like last night, strange, yet good. Gently, he slides a finger—slick with my arousal—into me. My body instinctively resists, muscles tensing against the intrusion, but he perseveres, pushing the finger to the first knuckle this time.

I find myself suspended in a haze, utterly without control, as he explores my body. Sitting up like this, the feeling is more intense than last night. He’s pushing his finger in way deeper than before, too. A warmth blooms within me from hidden pleasure points I never realized could be awakened. I’m torn; one part of me wants to retreat, while another yearns for him to continue.

Is he going to have sex with me—there—one day? I steal a glance at his impressive size. How could it even be possible? My thoughts are abruptly interrupted as his finger leaves my body, and despite myself, an involuntary whimper escapes my lips.

“Wait here like a good girl, and be patient.” He leaves me cold and alone and totally turned on and brimming with desire. He goes to a small sink in the corner of his room to wash his hands.

The sound of running water fills me with shame, thinking of the reason for his washing, where his fingers have been, and how he promised me his cock will be there, soon. There’s no time to dwell on his naughty promise, as now he’s back and unhooking the harness. My arms fall, and he catches them, rubbing my wrists gently to restore circulation. His eyes never leave mine, assessing my reaction and ensuring I'm alright.

I give him a small smile, my body still tingling with the remnants of pleasure.

"Ready for more?" His voice is a low rumble of carnal promises.

He guides me, my knees weak, towards the large, padded bench. He has me bend over, my naked body on display for him. He walks over to the wall, taking his time to build anticipation. He runs his fingers along a row of implements, each one designed for sensual punishment.He smiles, a wicked curve of his lips that sends a thrill straight through me.

I watch over my shoulder, my breath quickening as he runs his fingers along the row of implements. The anticipation is intoxicating, every nerve ending in my body alive, not knowing what he will choose, what he will do with the implement, or how it will feel.

His pace is slow, deliberate, as if savoring each moment of suspense before he finally commits.

I can hardly stand the wait, each second stretching out like an eternity. What will he choose? Will it hurt? How much will it hurt? Will I enjoy this, or blurt pineapple out in shame?

His hand comes to a resting place, and my tummy flip-flops. I see the gleam of black leather as he lifts it from its place. It's a belt with no buckle, a long line of leather. He approaches, the belt hanging loosely from his hand.

"Remember your safe word, Cutie," he reminds me with a growl.

Oh, gawd.

Chapter Fourteen

Cleopatra

He starts slow, the first strikes little more than gentle caresses, the leather tails whispering against my skin. I gasp at the initial contact, more from surprise than anything else. He builds the intensity gradually, each strike a little firmer, a little sharper, until the room is filled with the rhythmic sound of leather meeting flesh. I grip the bench tightly as I absorb each strike, the sensation blooming warm across my skin.

He pauses, running his hand over my backside, soothing the sting with his touch. "You're doing so well," he murmurs, his voice thick with approval. "Your skin turns such a beautiful shade of pink."

He steps back, the leather whistling through the air again as he resumes his rhythm. The strikes come faster now, harder, each one making my breath come in quick gasps, my skin tingling and alive. It's a dance on the edge of a knife, the line between pleasure and pain blurring with each strike.

He pauses again; his breath ragged as he tosses the leather strap. His hands grip my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he presses against me, his hardness evident. I can feel his heart pounding against my back, his body radiating heat and desire.

"You take it so beautifully," he growls, his lips brushing against my ear. "But I want more from you. I want to hear you scream for me."

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