Page 20 of His to Unwrap
“No! No one else, I swear.” I have to fight against the urge to come. It’s all so good—the spanking and his fingers and the low rasping demand of his voice as he lays claim to me. He’s right—no other man could ever make me feel like this.
“Then be my good girl,” he growls. “And show me how good it feels when I make you come.”
It happens instantly, my entire body breaking out into white hot sparks, electric pulses slamming into my pussy as my limbs go rigid and pleasure explodes in my core.
It goes on for endless minutes, this overwhelming pleasure, so strong I can’t catch my breath, can’t see beyond the stars erupting in my vision. It’s almost scary, the intensity of the pleasure, but hearing his soothing, encouraging voice behind me keeps me from panicking. He talks me through it, calling me his good girl, telling me I’m taking it so well, insisting I’m beautiful and good and so perfect for him.
I melt into the mattress with those sweet and dirty words ringing in my ears, more satisfied than I’ve ever been in my life.
ROMAN
She’s unreal. Absolute fucking perfection.
I knew that before tonight. Knew it the moment I met her. Knew it every time I watched her dance or saw her scene with some unworthy Dom. Knew it when she performed just for me in the private viewing booth.
But I had no idea it would feel like this.
I’ve always been on the outside looking in. Close but never touching. I’ve seen her wet and wanting, seen her ass turned red as she took a punishment, but I’ve never been the one to make it happen.
And fuck, doing is so much better than watching.
She’s still trembling as I slide my fingers out of the wet clench of her pussy. Fuck, I’d beeninsideher. Felt that sweet little cunt flutter around my fingers. Felt her come apart around me. The very thought is enough to send chills down my spine. I spanked her and touched her and made her come.
And it was the best fucking moment of my life.
I look down at her, sprawled on the bed, and wish I could keep her like this for hours. She looks amazing, her disheveled hair coming out of its ponytail, dress hiked up to her waist, ass red with my handprints. There’s a sheen of wetness on herthighs that makes me want to finger fuck her all over again. And the best part—her hands stretched over her head, restrained and tied to the headboard.
But I need to check on those wrists, make sure the restraints haven’t left a mark. And then the two of us need to talk.
I try not to let the guilt and dread seep into my stomach as I reach up to release her hands. I just want to stay in that moment of pure clarity I felt when my fingers were inside her. All the doubts, all the self-recriminations had faded away as I touched her, made her come. In those short moments, for once in my miserable life, I’d been exactly where I was supposed to be.
And I don’t want to let that feeling go. Not yet.
There’s some redness on her pale wrists, but it’s not bad. Still, I rub them between my much bigger hands, soothing and bringing blood flow back to the area. She doesn’t complain. In fact, she hasn’t said a word yet. She’s slumped on the bed like a limp noodle, her entire body languid.
“Angel,” I murmur, brushing some hair out of her face. “You okay?”
She smiles against the mattress, eyes still closed. She looks for all the world like a blissed out, self-satisfied little kitten, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmurs. The one eye I can see with the way her face is still pressed into the mattress opens, her blue iris peering out at me. “Are you okay?”
I give a shaky laugh. “Not really sure what okay looks like anymore, angel.”
She frowns a little and tries to sit up. I reach for her instinctively, needing to help, to take care of her. Once I have her in a seated position, she shoves her messy hair out of her eyes and peers up at me with a worried expression.
I want to wipe it away. I know it’s my fault she’s looking like that. She’s afraid I’m going to regret it.
As if that could even be humanly possible.
“Before you say anything,” she says, her voice shaky. “I just want to tell you something.” I nod and she straightens her shoulders, like she’s preparing. “What just happened? The way you made me feel? I think I’ve been searching for that my whole life.”
“Angel,” I groan, closing my eyes. It would probably be better for us to have this conversation with some space between us, but I can’t stand it. So I pull her into my lap, cradling her against my chest the way I’ve always wanted to. A wave of peace passes over me as she snuggles into me.
“Please don’t say it shouldn’t have happened,” she whispers, voice shaking. “Please don’t tell me it was a mistake.”
“Nothing about that was a mistake,” I tell her, smiling when she relaxes in my arms. “But, angel?—”
“No,” she says, lifting her head and putting a finger against my mouth. “No‘but, angel.’”
