Page 56 of Snow Bound

He snorted, his eyes glowing with warmth. “Still sassy, I see,” he said and slapped her pussy.

Pain exploded, no less intense than before, but somehow different. As though all the previous blows had only prepared her for this one, and the pain knew right where to go this time. It melted into her, seeking the cracks and crevices until she was full and somehow still curiously empty.

So empty.

“Please,” she heard herself say through the roaring in her ears. She needed him to fill her, but she didn’t know how to ask for it. “Please.”

“Such a pretty please,” he praised and kissed her.

Oh God, his mouth. She opened for it eagerly, welcoming the thrust of his tongue. She needed him inside her, tongue or fingers or penis, she didn’t care. He was kissing her hard and deep, overwhelming her. Her heartbeat throbbed in her nipples, her thighs, the pain turned pleasure now, dark and thick. It rose up inside her like music, heavy drum beats and clashing symbols rising in a crescendo. But she needed more. More pain, more pleasure. More Grant.

He growled deep in his throat and then he was up, whipping off his shirt, tearing at his jeans. Pushing them down and off, he climbed back onto the bed between her legs, and she spread them eagerly, wanting him inside her with every breath, every heartbeat. She closed her eyes, everything inside her straining for him.

“Eyes on me, Anna,” he growled and she obeyed, watching him watch her as he rolled a condom onto his cock and placed a hand on the inside of each bound leg, fingers digging into the abused flesh. She hissed and saw him smile through the haze of pain and lust. He pressed down ruthlessly, hurting her even more, spreading her even wider. Open. Vulnerable.

His.

The heat of his hands burned into her thighs, one more delicious bite of pain in a roiling sea of it. She didn’t care if it hurt, didn’t care if it burned. She needed him. She opened her mouth to beg but no words would come, only gasping cries of need and finally, finally, he gave her what she craved.

The slow push of his cock into her body was agony and ecstasy all at once. It burned, stretching her wide, going deep, so hot she felt seared from the inside out. But the pressure, the weight and mass of him inside her was glorious, and she arched to meet it.

“That’s it,” he muttered, eyes glittering with pale fire as he thrust fully inside her. “That what you wanted?”

“Yes,” she sobbed.

“Say it,” he demanded, pulsing inside her, his groin pressed into her wide-open pussy. “Say you want my cock.”

“I want your cock,” she repeated dutifully.

“That’s my bad girl,” he growled.

He pulled back, slowly, the drag of flesh on flesh pleasing them both, then just as slowly filled her again. Back and forth, slow and sure, he fucked her with a steady rhythm for what seemed like hours. She lost track of time, mired in the thick swirl of sensation.

The orgasm was out there, waiting, needing him to move just a little faster, a little harder, to come forward. Heeding its call, wanting it desperately, she shoved her hips up into his thrust.

The slap came without warning, landing on her ass with a crack that echoed around the room, chased by the cry that it tore from her lips. Her eyes flew to his to find the piercing blue had gone dark.

“Don’t move,” he ground out, and slapped her ass again. And again.

The blows were heavy, raw, and pushed her inexorably toward that beckoning orgasm.

She fought to stay still, fighting her own need. He laughed and landed another blow. “You want to come, Anna?”

“Yes.” The word was little more than a breath. “Sir. Please, yes.”

“Then you’d better fucking obey.” He punctuated the word with a driving thrust, digging his cock into her as deep as it would go and swiveling his hips to grind against her clit.

“You get me?” His hand cracked against her ass again. “Keep still or you don’t get to come.”

“I fucking hate you,” she said, spitting the words from between clenched teeth.

He laughed, dark and triumphant. “I know.”

She clenched her jaw and fought to keep her hips on the bed. Her hands wrapped around the ropes tethering her to the headboard, muscles straining as she pulled against them in an effort to focus her attention.

But his hips picked up speed, flesh slapping against flesh. His free hand gripped her thigh so hard she knew she’d have bruises on top of the welts, while his other continued to spank her steadily. He switched hands to deliver stinging blows to her other side, and the glorious heat and pressure coursed through her, winding her tighter and tighter with every drive of his hips, every crack of his hand. The effort of staying still, of restraining herself from reaching for the pleasure crashing through her, was, astonishingly, bringing the climax ever closer.

Still, she struggled with the need to move, to reach for that promise of pleasure. Only the knowledge that he’d somehow make certain she never reached it if she disobeyed kept her from trying.

---