Page 56 of A Lethal Game of Trust
“You’re killing me,” he groaned as if in pain. “I need to see what you like. But if you like to be tormented like this… I can’t tonight. I can’t hold back that much. Not tonight.”
Because this wasn’t a twenty-four-hour sickness bug of lust. This was temporary but not fleeting.
I pressed small circles into my clit and we both groaned out. He pushed my legs further apart and held them there tight.
“Do you enjoy watching?” I asked as I quickened my touch.
He nodded, not looking up from my pussy. “I enjoy you. Let me enjoy the taste of you.”
So I bent over and my fingers disappeared between his lips as he sucked the flavour off them. I couldn’t go a second without something, so my other hand fell to press two fingers inside of me. It wasn’t my dominant hand, but anything in his presence would do. Until I could have him.
Seeing him on his knees begging to taste me, I had to come just so he would prove me wrong. The orgasms with him were something else entirely.
My hips rolled as the orgasm broke. It was a sweet release. Not the nasty, dirty, shattering undoing I craved from him.
I bit down on my lip to stop myself from mumbling his name like I had many nights before.
He grabbed the fat of my thighs and finally looked up at my face. “How was that?”
“Good,” I said sheepishly. The alcohol made lying far more difficult.
“Just good?” he asked, with a coy smile that saw right through me.
“Better.”
“Shall I remind you what an orgasm can feel like?”
I nodded and, cupping his jaw, guided his face to mine for akiss as soft and simple as the way I’d just come.
Simple and yet quite the opposite.
“But first… I’m adding another spanking for lying.”
“Mmm,” I groaned, pulling his cock out of his boxers.
He swatted me away and, where I might have normally been self-conscious at being denied, it wasn’t because he didn’t desire me, that wasclear. It was because he had other plans first. He sat on the sofa, his erection up to his belly button and pulled me over his lap on all fours.
“Seven. You’re going to count for me. You’re going to thank me for each one.”
“Yes,” I breathed.
The thwack sounded before I even finished the syllable. First, there was the noise. Then, the shock. Then, the sting. The lightest sting.
“Thank you,” I said and added, “for going so easy on me.”
He stiffened beneath me and I couldn’t contain my grin. He had called me a brat earlier.
Smack.
Right where he’d just hit. My body jolted forward, my elbows buckling.
“Thank you.”
Another. The pain became pleasure. “Thank you.”
Then he waited, rubbing where he’d got me, soothing it. “Your smart mouth is no longer so smart.”
Smack.
