Page 32 of The Friend Zone
“I promise you’ll be satisfied,” he said in her ear. He sucked her earlobe.
To hell with her reservations. Everything between them would change, but she would deal with the fallout afterward. She wanted him to do everything he promised when he whispered all those dirty words to her on the sofa.
“Omar, I want—”
He never let her finish. She expelled a soft, gasping cry as his mouth came down hard on hers.
15
In between bruising kisses, Omar guided Dana upstairs. Along the way, clothes were discarded, leaving a trail that indicated the urgency with which they were ready to consume each other.
They stumbled into the dark bedroom, slivers of light coming through the blinds as they made their way over to the bed. Their breaths tangled together, coming in low, heavy spurts, magnified in the quiet of the dark room.
Angling his head to the right, he kissed her deeply, his tongue stroking into her mouth and setting off a five-alarm fire in the rest of her body. His firm mouth moved over hers with expert precision, and she could almost be satisfied with just kissing him, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more, and his erection teased her with more, hard and smooth like a column of marble against her soft belly.
Her hands traveled over his sculpted chest, exploring the texture of flesh beneath her splayed hands—firm muscle beneath soft skin—until he pulled her closer, and her bare breasts flattened against his chest.
Omar grabbed a handful of locs, tugging her head back so he could bite his way down the column of her throat. The scrape of his teeth made heat dance over her sensitive skin, and the pulse at the base of her neck tripled its frantic beating and battered the skin there. How could his touch be rough yet so good? She sighed with pleasure. Their bodies hadn’t joined together yet, but she was already on the verge of coming apart.
Omar shifted them onto the bed, where he bent her over the mattress and pushed her legs apart so he could stand in the open space.
“You like getting spanked, Dana?” he asked, fisting a hand at her neck under her hair and holding her in place.
Vulnerable in that position, she was pinned to the bed, toes skimming the carpet, and Omar standing behind her like a sexy, powerful god.
Before she could answer, the large palm of his other hand landed on her left butt cheek. Dana stiffened as the delicious sting spread pleasure and pain along her jiggling flesh.
“Answer me. Do you like getting spanked?”
He hit her again, and she bit her lip through a moan, the fingers of her right hand curling into the bedsheets. “Yes,” she whispered, bracing for another blow.
“I can’t hear you.” Seconds later, his hand came down again.
“Yes!” she hissed, louder this time, the word coupled with another moan.
She didn’t want him to stop. Here in the bed, she didn’t have to be responsible or smart or take care of anyone else. Her needs would be met, and she could give herself over to the one man she trusted more than any other—a man who knew how to take control and would surely satisfy her.
He hit her over and over again, alternating between each ass cheek. She closed her eyes, pushing back as best she could with limited mobility. His hand remained at her neck, holding her in place and forcing her to take the repeated hits.
Pushing up with her toes, she lifted into the blows, flesh stinging and clit throbbing and damp with lust. Each crack of his hand was followed by one of her cries.
Right when she was certain she would come, he removed his hand from her neck, but she couldn’t move. Tears burned her eyes as a result of the combined punishment and reward she received from the spanking. Omar’s hands smoothed down her back, and then she experienced the thrill of his mouth on the fullness of her ass. He squeezed each cheek together and then gently kissed away the pain.
She breathed easier but needed release.
His hard body came down on top of hers. “You okay, baby?” he asked in her ear.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
“Good. ’Cause I’m not done.”
They shifted on the bed so her head was against the pillows.
“You know what I want now, don’t you?”
