Page 58 of The Opposite of Romance
My pussy throbs for his touch, but he doesn’t give me anything. Rather, he drinks me in as if I’m the best thing he ever saw. Goosebumps cover my skin, and I doubt the cold is to blame.
When the ache gets agonizing, he finally gives in. He drops to his knees, and on a growl, smashes his mouth to my clit.
“Shit.” My back arches off the desk, but his palm pushes me back down.
He flattens his tongue, licking me slowly and languidly before sucking on my clit. Once again, I’m unable to control my movements, quaking with need.
“Are you ready to sit still, or do I need to make you?” His words are barely audible over the rain, but they send a shiver down my spine, anyway.
“Make me,” I whisper, surprising myself.
His head lifts, his eyes checking with me again, and I nod myhead. “Fuck, princess. I don’t think you know what this does to me.” He gets to the other side of the desk, moving some things around. Lifting my hands above my head, he stretches a ratchet strap over my wrists. I hear him clasping it under the desk, pulling it harder to secure my hands to the wooden desk. My movements are limited, but I trust him. I trust him enough to let go.
“That ok?” he asks, checking my consent and my throat gets tight.
“Yes. But can you please get back to what you were doing?”
He chuckles at my demand. “It will be my pleasure, princess.”
“I’m older than you. I can hardly be called princess,” I scoff jokingly because I’m so out of my depth with whatever is happening here.
He gets back to his previous position of kneeling in front of me. My legs close of their own accord but he spreads me wide open.
“You’re right. My queen, then.” My eyes widen, my insides turning to goo. “If the strap gets uncomfortable, you need to tell me, but don’t for a second think that you can stop me from licking this delicious, soaked pussy until I decide. Got it?”
I’m too distracted to answer, so he spreads my pussy lips wide open, breathing a soft breath to my most sensitive spot. “Got it?” he asks again.
“Yes, I get it.” I’d doanything, sayanything, to get him to lick me again.
And when he does, it’s heaven. My clit pulses with need as I reach to grab his hair, only to remember my hands are tied. A wave of pleasure hits me at the realization.
I was never tied up before. I begged David for us to try it, but he would roll his eyes, once again blaming books for putting weird ideas into my head. Instead, I wrote probably a hundred scenes where the woman is tied up, trying to live vicariously through my characters. I’ve explored every sensation that could arise and explained it with great detail.
Now I know I’ve never gotten remotely close to describingthe actual feeling. The feeling of letting go of control. The feeling of yielding my body to another person. And the feeling of that person being better than my wildest fantasies.
I get lost in sensations, almost forgetting where I am, when his voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “You taste so fucking good.”
And it’s game over. My climax slams into me full force, wracking me with shivers. My pussy clenches over nothing, the pleasure both exquisite and empty.
When my breathing calms down, he’s still lapping at my juices with slow licks, as if he’s eating his favorite ice cream.
“I need more,” I gasp, because though this orgasm was incredible, I need to feel him inside of me.
“Such a greedy little queen. Who said you’ll get more? What if I want to keep licking this perfect cunt?”
“Please, Logan. I need more.” Desperate words escape me before I’m able to think them through. “I need your cock.”
He lets out half-moan, half-groan, but luckily gets up, unzipping his jeans. From his wallet in the back pocket, he digs out a condom. With the height of the desk, and my tied hands not letting me lift my head far, I can barely see him roll it on. He leans forward, pressing another kiss to my lips, before sliding his cock into me.
“Aaah,” I’m able to only gasp as he fills me so completely. I haven’t been fucked in so long, the sensation is weird, almost painful. It could also be the fact that he’s much bigger than David. His cock is thick and hard and hits all the right places, pumping into me slowly, so I feel every fucking inch.
“Fuck, you feel so good. I’m not going to last,” Logan warns, but I don’t care about that.
“That’s ok. Just fuck me, please.” Another groan and he slams into me, hard.
His moves get faster and rougher as he thrusts in and out of me. I can’t do much but take it, tied to the table and the sensations. The scent of the summer rain mixes with his manly scentinto something that could easily be patented and sold. The drops of rain on his skin turn to sweat as his muscles contract.
He’s so fucking beautiful. Not cut like a guy that spends all his free time in the gym. No, his muscles are pure power. Even the dark hair on his chest and stomach is all man, narrowing down to a tight line leading to his spectacular cock.
