Page 18 of Flog Me, Sir

“My hand prints look hot as fuck on you, Lissa. Tell me you’re still okay...”

She squirmed, rubbing her pelvis against my thigh, and I knew she was still with me rather than reliving memories of her abusive past. I slipped my hand between her thighs, and she moaned. Wetness seeped from her slit, smearing along the insides of her soft skin.

I rimmed her sopping pussy, my other hand holding her lower back firm to keep her from fucking herself on my fingers. “You’re wet.”

“Yes.” Shame coated the word, and I grinned, teasing along her slit until she muttered something under her breath about me being a bastard.

Crack!

“Oh, God.” Her hips rose, lifting to meet my next strike. I continued to smack and tease, barely dipping my fingertip into her body when she whined for more, giving her harsher swats when she cursed me for not giving her what she needed.

By the time I felt she’d had enough, my hand stung, her backside and thighs glowed red, and she sobbed and begged—but not for me to stop.

“Do you need to come, sweet thing?” I murmured, finally sliding two fingers deep inside her soaked pussy.

She groaned and shuddered. “Please...”

I slowly fucked into her, wetness dribbling off my knuckles, my other hand holding her tight against my lap.

“Garret.”

My name on her lips, a whispered prayer, oozed pre-cum from my hard as fuck dick. “Tell me what you want, Lissa.”

“You,” she said with a rush of breath as I dragged my fingers out of her pussy.

“You need to be a bit more specific, Lissa,” I said, reaching deep inside her again.

She groaned. “I want you inside me.”

I smirked and rubbed against her inner walls. “I am inside you.”

“I want your cock inside me.”

“Mmm.” Hearing exactly what I wanted—needed—but hadn’t hoped to hear so damn soon after meeting her, I lifted her onto her feet and stood, looming over her. “There’s a condom in my back pocket. Fish it out and put it on me.”

She reached around me and dug into my pocket without hesitation, her hands trembling while trying to tear open the packet. Brow furrowed, she focused on the condom’s wrapper while I unsnapped my jeans and shoved them down to mid-thigh.

Waiting for her to sheath me had my jaw clenching, my shaft dripping and throbbing like a motherfucker. Once she figured the damn thing out, she peered up at me, her eyes hazed with lust.

Pants still around her ankles and panting, she waited for me to make the move. I lifted her and turned her to face the tree seat, my nose nuzzling in her messed hair. “Bend over for me and hold onto that tree.”

She did as told, putting her red ass on display.

“Goddamn,” I said, grasping the base of my dick as it bobbed, jerking with the need to bury balls deep.

With her pants holding her legs together, I couldn’t see beyond the puffed, soaked lips of her pussy. Knowing she would be tight as fuck in that position seized my balls, and I rubbed the head of my dick up through her slit.

Hands grasping her red ass, I repeated the action, and she whimpered, pushing back toward me. I spread her wide as I could, her tight rosebud beckoning—but I would save that for later. Wetness seeped from her pussy, and I angled my hips to press against her.

Barely notched inside her body, I grit my teeth at the tightness, the squeeze of her body around my girth. “Fuck, Lissa.” Another inch, and my eyes rolled back into my head at the vise grip of her pussy. “So fucking tight...”

“D-don’t stop. Please, Garret—”

With a growl, I shoved in, taking what I wanted, giving her what she begged for.

A shriek flew past her lips.

I bit my tongue to keep from blowing my load, my hands holding her tight from escaping my size, my girth.

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