Page 45 of Going Deep
“As it happens,” he went on, looking her over, “that position will do just fine. Scoot down here.”
She followed orders, working herself down the bed so her butt rested almost on the edge of the mattress, the cross-legged position making her knees stick out over the end.
He moved to stand in front of her, so close his knees bumped her shins. He reached down, slid one hand into her hair, and bent to take her mouth.
Her lips fell open under the pressure of his, eagerly welcoming the kiss, and he took ruthless advantage. His hand kept her head still when she would’ve leaned back, holding her still for his pleasure, and she shivered at the possessiveness of it. She kissed him back avidly, straining against his hold, her body all but vibrating with arousal.
He nipped her lower lip hard enough to make her flinch, and the tang of copper hit her tongue. “Hold still,” he ordered and angled his mouth over hers again.
Her head swam, coherent thought sliding away as her body woke to his touch. Her mouth felt bruised, her scalp tight against his hold. Her breasts were heavy, her pussy damp and aching as she fought to keep from wiggling. Frustrated, aroused, she moaned into his mouth.
The kiss softened, gentling from a ravaging into a caress. “That’s the sound I like,” he whispered, so close she felt the words against her lips. He pulled back slightly, and she forced her heavy eyelids up to look into his eyes. So green, so bright, watching her so carefully. Her whole world narrowed down to those eyes.
“Pretty Ginger,” he murmured. “Flushed cheeks, bright eyes.” His hand came up to stroke over her breasts, rough fingertips scraping over soft peaks. They tightened under his touch, making her gasp, and she saw pleasure reflected in his eyes.
“Beautiful breasts,” he went on, turning his hand to cup the heavy weight. “You said on your list that your nipples aren’t sensitive.”
“Yes,” she managed.
“Hmmm.” He scraped a thumbnail over the tight tip, smiling when she jumped. “I think your definition of sensitive differs from mine.”
She thought he might be right.
“Let’s see if we can make them a little more sensitive.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled something out, holding it up for her to see. Light glinted off metal, and she blinked, struggling to identify the tiny objects in the palm of his hand. When she did, her eyes widened. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” he corrected, and pinching one nipple clamp between his fingers, aimed it at her breast.
“Wait.” Her hands braced on the bed beside her hips, ready to shove backwards, away from his touch. But she stilled, the words of protest sliding back down her throat when he looked into her eyes.
“Your safeword works here, same as in the club,” he told her. “If it’s too much, use it.”
She hesitated, searching his face. There was patience in his eyes, a steady calm that soothed even as the unrelenting resolve made her tremble. After a long moment, she nodded.
Her eyes followed his hand as he placed the clamp over her nipple, body tense, but the anticipated pain didn’t come. It was barely there, and she sagged with relief.
Until he started to turn the screw.
She sucked in a sharp breath as the pain bloomed, sharpening with every turn of the screw. She began to writhe as the discomfort threatened to be too much, her mouth opening, yellow on the tip of her tongue.
He turned the screw back, loosening the clamp just enough, and the word died on her lips.
His eyes bore into hers as she panted, the pain dulling into a throbbing pressure. It didn’t feel good, but it didn’t feel bad, either, and it somehow seemed to connect her nipple to her clit, so both pulsed in time with the pounding of her heart.
He smiled slowly. “I’d say that’s just right,” he decided and picked up the second clamp.
He watched her face closely, backing off again when the pain threatened to overwhelm. She was panting, her heart pounding in her ears when he pulled back. Every shuddering breath made her breasts jiggle, jostling the clamps and sending streaks of heat directly to her core.
As if he knew, he dipped a hand between her open thighs, sliding his fingers through the slick folds of her pussy. His eyes gleamed at the wetness he found. “You’re soaked,” he observed and slid one finger deep inside her. She sucked in a breath, biting her lip to hold back a sharp cry.
He tsked lightly. “No, you don’t, darling. I want to hear you.” He curled his finger inside her, stroking the front wall of her cunt in a beckoning motion. His fingertip scraped over something, some spot inside her that made her hips jerk and her pussy clamp down in pleasure.
“Oh, God.”
“Better,” he murmured. His finger slid back, withdrawing to flick over her clit once, twice. Then he pumped two fingers deep and set his thumb on her clit.
The cry burst free when he curled his fingers inside her and his thumb rubbed her clit at the same time. Her hands clenched on the duvet, her pelvis rocking with the rhythm of his thrusting fingers.
