Page 61 of Whatever Lola Wants

“Sorry,” she mumbled. Her tongue throbbed as she fought her eyes open to stare up at him. “I thought I had one more in me.”

“I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did,” he said, still stroking. “That’s some serious stamina you’ve got there, Lola.”

She huffed out a laugh. “I’ll tell my trainer you said so.”

His eyes were dark with concern. “I’ve got to get these pins off you. Can you hang on through that?”

She tried to lick her lips and found her tongue was too dry. “Can I have some water first?”

“Sure.” He disappeared for a moment, and she heard the zip of his bag opening. Then he was back, cradling her neck in his arm as he held a bottle of water to her mouth.

She drank gratefully, letting the cool liquid soak into her parched mouth. When she’d had enough, she leaned back. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome.” He set the water aside. “The clothespins have to come off, sweetheart. I’ll be quick.”

She nodded, biting back the whimper. She’d let herself get past the point where she could take pleasure in the pain; she was too exhausted, too overwhelmed, and desire was rapidly dying a sad and lonely death.

He was watching her, sharp eyes assessing, measuring her discomfort. “We pushed it too far,” he said, and she heard the self-recrimination under the steel in his tone.

“Not your fault,” she managed. “I overestimated myself.”

“Well, maybe there’s something I can do to make this part easier.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to just do it, fast and dirty, get it over with, when one blunt fingertip brushed over her clit. She jolted, the nerve endings flaring to life and sending a burst of pleasure through her body. The jolt jiggled the clothespins, especially the ones still attached to her labia, and she groaned.

Despite the concern lingering in his eyes, he smiled. “Yeah, this will work. Hold steady now, sweetheart, and let’s bring you down. Keep your hands at your sides, or I’ll have to restrain you again,” he warned, then began.

He started plucking the clothespins free, one at a time. Her body jolted with each removal, then jolted again as his fingers swirled over her swollen clit. Over and over, the same pattern repeated—pull a clothespin, stroke her clit. He kept his fingers swirling gently over, above, around the tight little bundle of nerves, dipping them down every so often to the opening of her body to gather moisture, then slicking his fingers back up again.

When he’d pulled all the pins free from her belly, he moved to the ones on the tender flesh of her arms. She began welcoming the painful return of blood to the tortured bits of skin, because it meant he’d stroke her clit again, stoking the fire in her belly higher. By the time he’d dispensed with the clothespins on her arms and shifted to the ones circling each breast, she was pushing her hips up with each stroke, trying to get him to touch her harder, faster, eager now for the orgasm building.

He chuckled softly, his fingers hovering over her breast. “You seem to be finding hidden stores of energy, sweetheart.”

She could only whimper, hands clenched at her sides, frustration building as he circled her clit with a feather-light touch. Through slitted eyes, she saw the fire in his, knew he was just as turned on as she was, yet maintaining that iron control. “I can’t take much more,” she groaned.

“Oh, I think you can,” he countered. “But we could probably speed things along, if you like. Your choice.”

Speed was good. The faster he got the clothes pins off, the faster he could get her off. “Yes,” she gasped. “Faster. Go faster, Sir.”

The gleam in his eye should’ve warned her, but she was too far gone. Pain and need were a tangled mess inside her, making it all but impossible to think. She could only feel.

His fingers left her clit, leaving her wiggling on the mat, sweaty and needy, while he rummaged around in his toy bag. Then something cold hit her pussy and she jerked, startled.

“I’ve got you,” he said and flicked the vibrator on.

The buzzing hit, making her jerk again, this time in desperate pleasure. He’d wedged the vibe against her open labia, and every nerve ending from taint to clit sang with pleasure. “Squeeze your thighs together, Lola,” he commanded.

She shifted to obey, stiffening when the clothespins still on her labia dug in. But the pressure increased the vibrations to her clit, putting her in the position of having to accept the pain to get the pleasure.

He chuckled, well aware of the dilemma he’d given her. Both hands free, he laid them gently on her breasts. “Ready?” he asked and, before she could say yes or no or give me a goddamn minute here, he was yanking off clothespins with both hands.

The scream froze in her throat as pain burst, blinding waves of it rolling over her as blood rushed back into the abused tissue. Tears sprang to her eyes as her back arched hard, and he held her down with ruthless hands. All the clothespins were gone in a matter of moments, then his strong hands covered her small breasts, massaging firmly to bring the blood to the surface faster.

She sagged back, panting, each breath a harsh groan. Her breasts throbbed with pain, her clit with pleasure, and her labia still held by the clamps with yet more pain. She was past being able to tell the difference.

She blinked her eyes, trying to focus on Simon was leaning over her. She locked her gaze onto him, a port in the storm, and watched him smile slightly. “Please,” she gasped, hardly knowing what she was begging for. “Please.”

His smile softened, his eyes tender as he cradled her cheek in his hand. “I’ve got you,” he whispered and kissed her.

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