Page 65 of Fierce

“Why don’t you lie down across my lap,” he said, “and I’ll show you.”

I could hardly breathe, and I really couldn’t believe I would do this. Did I trust Hemi this much?

Apparently I did, because I was doing it. I knelt beside him, bracing my hands against the back of the couch, then slowly turned, bent over, and set my hands on the cushion on his other side. He could have helped me, but he didn’t. He just sat and waited while I did it, while I settled myself over him, my ankles propped over one end of the couch, my head pressed into the arm at the other side.

Finally, he put a hand out and brushed my hair back from my face. “Keep your head turned to the side,” he told me. “I want to see your face.”

It was too much. Too vulnerable. And I did it anyway. My mouth was open a little already, and when he reached for the hem of my skirt and flipped it up and I felt the cold air on my skin, then his hand smoothing over my cheeks, the tops of my thighs, I squirmed.

“Ah,” he sighed. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”

When he slapped me, I jumped, although it didn’t hurt. It just…tingled.

He spanked me lightly at first, his broad hand moving all the way down to the tops of my thighs, then up, around, until every inch of me was sensitized, until every nerve ending was awake and insistent. And when my eyes closed against the power of it, he stopped and told me, “Open your eyes. I want to see you.”

I whimpered and obeyed, and then the slaps got a little harder, a little more fierce, and I was jumping a bit with each one.

Just when it started to burn, he stopped, and his hand was smoothing over me again, soothing away the sweet sting while my sobbing breath sounded loud in my ears.

It wasn’t anything like pain. It was nothing but tingling, humming pleasure, but I was so close, and I needed to get there more than I ever had in my life. I was shifting over him, trying to rub myself against him, to get what my body craved.

“So we’re clear,” he told me. He was shifting me, pushing my bottom higher with his knees, reaching beneath me where I’d been so wet and aching all day, and, finally, beginning to explore my swollen, tormented flesh, and I was wriggling, moaning.

“So we’re clear,” he said again. “Nobody else is giving you lessons. Nobody is teaching you anything. Nobody but me.”

I was barely listening, because he was rubbing hard, and I was rocking back and forth on his hand. The delicious warmth, the burn spreading everywhere, and I needed it.

And then he took his hand away, and I cried out. “No. Don’t.”

“You aren’t answering.” His voice was so severe.

“I don’t…remember what you said,” I moaned. “Please, Hemi. Touch me. Please.”

“Nobody but me,” he said.

“Nobody but you,” I said, because I would have said anything. “Please. Please.” And, finally, he gave me what I needed, and I was bucking over him, crying out, spasming again and again, finishing and starting up again until I lost count, until I was limp. And just when I was starting to get my breath back—that was when he lifted me and put me on the floor. Put me on my knees.

“Now,” he said, “this next bit is your turn. This is the rest of your lesson. We’re going to start with you unbuckling my belt. Slowly.”

I’d been aching for her since I’d pulled the curtain closed in that dressing room and seen her standing there, so hesitant, and so saucy. And when she’d dropped that little red skirt and showed me those undies, I’d known exactly how this day would end. I’d held out as long as I could, and now, I needed this. I needed it all.

Sitting opposite her in that bistro and watching her perky little breasts rising and falling in her thin sweater had been nothing but torture. Seeing other blokes’ eyes linger there, then slide hastily away when I turned to look at them. Watching the flush mount in her cheeks, the uncertainty in her eyes.

She wasn’t uncertain now. Still wearing her little sweater and skirt, still trembling with the aftershocks of her own violent release, but her hands, her eager mouth so deliciously willing, so devastatingly inexpert. I told her what I wanted, and she did it all, and she was a bloody fast learner.

I’d told myself I’d be easy with her today, and I wasn’t. I might be letting her rest her tender bits, but I wasn’t one bit easy. She wasn’t asking me to be. She didn’t want it easy.

“Now,” I managed to say at last, dragging my head off the back of the couch. “Now. Open…up. Deep as…you can. Take it…take it all.”

It was what I’d imagined that first day when I’d met her. When I’d seen her on her knees in the photographer’s studio. Her eyes fluttering open to watch, her pretty mouth working so hard, her startled inhalation of breath as I got closer, got harder, bigger, her struggle to hold it all and take me in. And then I wasn’t watching anymore, because my head was back, and I was groaning, jerking against her, and she was taking that, too. All the way down.

She stayed with me for all of it, and then, after a minute, she leaned against my legs, rubbed her cheek over my thigh, and smoothed her hands over me. “How was that?” she whispered.

“I think…” I could hardly get the words out. “We’d call that...brilliant. Though I’ve lost the plot a bit here.”

“Mm.” She was zipping me again, buckling my belt, and I looked down to see a satisfied smile on her face. She stood up, climbed over me where I lay sprawled on the couch, took my head in her hands, and kissed me, her sweet tongue coming out to lick into me. I tasted myself on her, and she pulled back and smiled into my eyes.

“I loved that,” she told me. “I want to do that some more. I want to get better at it, as good as you. I’ll bet I can.”

I had to laugh from sheer surprise. “Right. But maybe not today.”

She laughed softly herself, then gave me another kiss. “I’m going to get a drink of water. And I’m going to get you one, too.”

“Sounds good.”

“And then,” she said, “a bath. Together. Exactly what I wanted yesterday. Because I’m not that sore anymore, and I want you inside me. You can’t torture me all day like that and not follow through with the whole thing. Besides, I need you to teach me some more. Don’t you think?”

“Yeh. I do.”

Once again, she’d turned the tables on me. And once again, I wasn’t minding one bit.

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