Page 96 of What About Love

She didn’t question him, wanting to do as he said because it felt right, somehow. She clasped her hands at the back of her neck, murmuring, “Yes, sir. I want that, so very much.”

He didn’t say a word; he didn’t have to, approval written clearly on his face, in his gleaming eyes and the satisfied curve of his lips. Then he went back to his sensual torment of her nipples with his mouth as his hands tugged her pants down as far as her spread thighs would allow.

This time, as one returned to mold against her ass cheek, the other slipped inside the front of her panties, his long fingers seeking her moist heat. As the pad of one fingertip slid over her clit, she cried out in a shuddering voice.

“T, please.”

Suddenly, his mouth was gone and his hands curled under her arms, flipping her onto her back on the wide, cushioned sofa. In a blink, he stripped her of her pants and panties, and spread her thighs wide to accommodate his broad shoulders. His mouth found her center, licking into her, hot and hungry.

As her mind reeled from the pure unadulterated pleasure of it all, she arched against him, needing more. Her fingers dove into his hair, hands gripping tight as she pulled his head closer.

“Hands, Angie,” he growled, his breath rushing over her clit.

She became momentarily confused.

“Where are your hands supposed to be?”

Remembering, she freed his hair from her grasp, once again lacing her fingers behind her neck, more tightly this time. He hummed his approval; the vibration buzzing along her nerve endings and along the entire length of her slit. It was pure heaven.

Without her hands, she could only press upward, arching her pelvis to seek more. He took care of that, too, by pushing her knees into her chest. His tongue licked slowly through her slit, starting low by drawing a hot wet circle around the puckered skin, then up farther to her weeping entrance where it delved inside, swirling around in a mind-numbing caress. He lingered there for long moments before moving higher to the hard, pulsing bud. Once there, his mouth opened wide, and he sucked hard, his tongue lashing her clit relentlessly without losing the glorious pressure.

“Holy fuck!” she screamed.

He released her with a pop and a triumphant laugh that became muffled as his tongue repeated the path in reverse, starting from her clit and descending slowly until he ended up tonguing her ass once again.

“Damn, you’re sweet,” he murmured between licks. “And this ass...”

Rising to his knees, he pushed her legs together and clamped one hand over the backs of both thighs, bending them up to her chest until her ass angled off the cushions. “I’ll be damned if this isn’t the sweetest, most spankable, fuckable ass I ever did see.” He slapped it.

“Hey!”

His eyes shot to hers. “No complaining, darlin’. You’ve had this coming for two reasons. Number one, because I can’t resist spanking these glorious round cheeks.” Which he did, twice on each side. Not hard, but it made her entire nether region tingle. Yet, she couldn’t help protesting the unfairness.

“That’s hardly my fault!”

“Number two,” he continued, talking over her. “I owe you a few swats for last night. What were you doing cozying up to that sadist? He’d have given you more than a spanking, you know.”

“That lovely man with the accent was a sadist?”

“Absolutely. And rumors around the club suggest he uses European techniques.”

“What are those?” she asked, openly curious.

“All in good time. You’re a newbie still. That’s advanced status, at least.”

She would have scowled at him if she hadn’t been so surprised. “First Dan, now Arturo. You should make them wear tags like the DMs do, so unsuspecting subs won’t be caught unaware.”

“That’s what negotiation is for.” His hand landed again, not too hard yet with enoughoomphto sting and warm her cheeks pleasantly. “It isn’t to be done when you’re shitfaced on tequila—ever.”

“Don’t you have any sweet doms over there?”

“You’re looking at him. Arturo would have whipped you, and not with a suede flogger like I did, little bit. He’d have made you cry with that damned French martinet of his, upped the ante to a rubber flogger or a nine-tailed cat, and topped you off with a screaming round with his bullwhip.”

“You’re joking.”

Four more swats fell. Then he leaned in, his chest pressing against the backs of her legs, pinning her as he got in her face. Nose to nose, his breath brushed her lips. “I’ve never been more serious. Now, tell me what you were doing dancing with that sadist?”

“I didn’t know what he was. He seemed so nice and his accent—” At his narrow-eyed expression, she decided telling him what she found appealing about Arturo wasn’t particularly smart. “I had too much to drink; I’ve admitted that already. But you don’t have to worry about me doing that again. I recently remembered how much I hate being hungover.”

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