Page 9 of Among the Sins of my Father

In the reflection of the mirror, his gaze scorches mine. Bending down, he pulls me to my feet, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck, arching my body and exposing it fully. His hand floats down my side, leaving behind a trail of fire. His fingers brush so softly against me, it’s hard not to writhe with the agony of it.

I want to meld into him. I want to collapse against him, allowing him all control, all power. I want to surrender my body to him. Do with me as he wills.

Without warning, he cups my breasts aggressively, eliciting a sharp gasp as he twists my nipples. The connection of my hands behind his back breaks. I fold over myself, grabbing my breasts and shielding them from his assault.

His head cocks to the side. Black fire lights his eyes. His lips brush over the curve of my neck. “I told you to be still.” His eyes drop to where I’m covering myself. “Remove your hands.”

I shake my head. Not because I don’t want to remove them. Not because I don’t want his touch. But because I want his anger. His wrath. I take a step away and Jericho’s left eye twitches, the vein beneath it pulsing.

He strides toward me. “Remove your hands.”

I’m clutching my breasts, the flesh oozing between my fingers as I stare at him defiantly. I don’t move. I don’t take a step backward. I lift my chin, my tongue darting out to moisten my bottom lip as he takes another step, his body so close to mine I can feel the heat of him warming the air between us.

With one fluid motion, Jericho rips my hands away, twisting me around and holding both my hand securely behind my back with one of his. The position makes it hard for me to resist. He presses himself against me, his hardness pushing against my hands. I grab for him eagerly, but he moves, jerking his hips away and denying me the pleasure.

He tuts in my ear, scolding me. “Now, now, Miss Berkley. You know better than that.” The darkness of his voice sends delicious waves of arousal through me. “I’m the one in control here. Not you.”

Even though he says the words, I know I could stop him with one single command. I know if I wanted to, I could order him to the floor and walk all over him, push my heels into his chest and he wouldn’t complain. In fact, he would welcome it.

Tugging downward on my hands, he forces my shoulders back, my chest out. He walks me toward the mirror, watching me in the reflection as his free hand moves to encase my breast. He massages roughly and I press into it instead of shying away, biting my bottom lip and crying out when he twists my nipple.

“There she is,” he says before running his tongue up the side of my neck. His hand moves to my other breast and I gulp back a gasp as he repeats the same motion. When his hand trails over my stomach and dips between my legs, I let my head flop back against his shoulder. He pushes two fingers inside.

“Open your legs.”

I don’t hesitate to do as he says, eager to feel him deeper inside me. He teases and taunts, pushing in and out a few times before shoving them into my mouth.

“Suck,” he commands.

I obediently lick the taste of myself away. His eyes close as I run my teeth over the pads of his fingers and his hips thrust against me. My hands search for him, the feel of his hardness desperately but he always moves just out of my reach, pushing me forward so my hands move further up my back. His cock pushes against my ass and I writhe against him, wanting—no—needing to have him inside me. It’s an exquisite need that manifests as pain. A pain so visceral and deep I would do anything to sate it.

Dragging me over to a chair, he sits down and pulls me over his lap, letting go of my hands long enough to direct them down the legs of the chair.

“Hold,” he says.

The coldness of the metal is soothing. I wrap my fingers around it, grateful for something to cling to as he begins to caress the cheeks of my ass. He rubs, his fingers sliding over me before he slaps me gently. If I lift my head and twist it to the side, I can see the reflection of us in the mirror.

His legs are spread wide and I’m splayed over them. His eyes dart over my body stretched beneath him as though he can’t choose which part of me to focus on. His hand is repetitive as it rubs over my ass, back and forth, slipping occasionally between my legs to tease me before a sharp slap resounds.

I gasp.

He slaps again. Harder.

I gasp and grip the legs of the chair tighter.

I can’t tear my eyes away from the reflection of us. The light of the moon shines from behind, spilling over his shoulder and illuminating only parts of me. One slice of my ass is exposed by the light and it’s a shade of pink, reddened by his hand. My breasts are crushed against his thigh. My toes are spread over the floor, gripping into it to stop myself from sliding and to provide me some resistance against him.

He increases his pace, his cock bouncing against my stomach in the same rhythm as his slaps. The repetitiveness of it, the sharpness of it intensifies. A groan of pain escapes me.

“Tell me to stop,” Jericho growls.

But I don’t want to. The pain is mixed with pleasure I never thought possible, so I writhe on his lap, pushing my ass higher, closer to his hand. This causes him to moan deeply and I feel the reverberations of it. His slaps start again. A stinging, cleansing punishment. One hand presses between my thighs and I open myself further, craving his touch. He inserts a finger, groaning at my wetness as I push my ass into the air, welcoming his discipline. He adjusts me over his lap, tilting my head closer to the ground. I hold onto the metal bars of the chair as he slips another digit inside, finger fucking me with aggression.

He slaps me again. Harder than he ever has before and tears spring to my eyes. But still I don’t pull away and I make no motion to escape because I don’t want to. My ass is both on fire and numb. I want the rest of my body to feel the same.

My tears turn to sobs.

“Tell me to stop,” Jericho begs.

---