Page 46 of Make Me Scream

“Yes!” I grunt.

Lane slaps my ass, this time with his bare hand. I shriek out loud, twisting against my bonds.

“Is that how you address me?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, cursing myself for forgetting.

Crouching down in front of me, Lane puts his hands on my shoulders.

“You know you’re extraordinary, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

He keeps leaning forward until his lips meet mine. My eyes widen in surprise for just a moment, then close, riding a rush of bliss that drives away all the pain. I thought my reward would be something else, but this is very, very nice. It’s also wrong, in so many ways. Everything we’ve done this far was, technically, supposed to be about developing as an artist. This kiss is not. There’s no way to pretend it’s somehow part of the lesson.

I have no doubt Joel would have yelled at me to run when I first saw the cuffs. My mother would have said I was an idiot for thinking Lane is really Alistair Rat, that it’s just his way of sleeping with gullible, young students. Dad would probably lock me in my room until I repented. Maybe I’m a fool for putting myself into a situation like this, but his kiss tells me no matter how wrong this is, it’s still right.

Lane’s tongue touches mine, and his grip on my shoulders tightens. The salty taste of his lips seasons the aroma of his cool cologne, the flavor of him burning into my mind.

I sigh when the kiss finally ends, savoring the lingering sensation of his lips and hands. I don’t ever want to let it go.

Then Lane’s fingers caress my swollen, sopping pussy. The aches all over my body return, but so does the unquenchable hunger inside me. I shudder at the sound of a pants zipper, followed by the flop of fabric. He steps in front of me, naked. His body proves to be everything I imagined: bulges of hard muscle from chest to thigh, with flawless skin, free of tattoos. His thick, long cock stands erect; looking at it nearly makes me dizzy. The thought of trying to fit it inside me elicits fear, but also craving. After everything I’ve endured today, his enormous rod could be what finally breaks me.

“I’ve met artists who claim nothing feels better than composing a masterpiece,” Lane says, brushing my hair out of my face. “But I think this will always come first.”

His hot tip presses against my soaked lips, testing them, not even probing inward. It’s enough to make my body spasm. Lane chuckles.

“I’ve never seen anyone this wet, and that’s saying something.”

He brushes my entrance again before sliding inward, just a little. I groan as his girth spreads me open; my inviting channel welcomes him in, but he’s too big to take in with ease. The slight twinge is a small price to pay for the pleasure of feeling Lane inside me, though. I want more, and he obliges. He withdraws a little each time before sinking in another inch, giving me some time to adjust to his overwhelming presence.

When at last he plunges in his full length, I mewl and whine, disbelieving that he managed to go so deep and fill me so completely. I can hardly believe the cock inside me is the one I saw; it feels so much bigger than it looked.

“That feels so good,” he says.

I grunt in agreement, my brain already too scrambled to form words.

Then he begins thrusting. Going slow at first, he pulls almost all the way out before driving back in. The motion is enough to release hours of pent-up desire.

“Are you already going to come?” asks Lane as he speeds up his rhythm.

“Yes,” I squeal. I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but I am. He’s barely gotten started and I’m already on the brink of eruption.

“Has it been a while since you were with anyone?”

“Yes.”

More than a year — and back then it never felt this good.

“Then there’s no need to keep you waiting.”

Lane works even faster, pumping until I scream. His strong hands clutch my hips, keeping me in place as he bucks against my body. With one hand he reaches for the chain hanging from my nipples and pulls, reigniting the pain. It had dulled to a mild ache, but it comes right back. Instead of combating the pleasure, however, the dose of suffering elevates my euphoria. It’s like flakes of cayenne pepper in a chocolate brownie: heat and sweet, all together, and I want the whole tray.

“I’m going to… I’m going to…” I mumble, barely aware I’m even speaking.

“Come for me, Gwen. Let me see.”

With one sharp tug, he yanks the clamps off my nipples. As if he’d flipped a switch, an explosive orgasm detonates in a blossom of ecstasy. Lane shoves into me with abandon; its steady, loud slapping noise fills the studio. I don’t even realize I’m howling until the unbelievable bliss begins to subside.

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