Page 31 of Feast

“You try staying still during that,” she replied, and though she still had plenty of sass, her once smooth speech had shifted to the slightly rough, faintly slurred voice of a very aroused woman.

In answer, he gave her round cheek a firm squeeze.

“Oh my God, you’re so mean,” she choked out, her voice little more than a moan.

He swallowed the laugh. “Mean?”

“So mean,” she confirmed, her shoulders tensing when he squeezed harder.

“And here I was going to offer you a reward for being such a good girl,” he said sadly and released her.

“A reward?” she queried, relief and suspicion coloring her voice.

“Hmmm.” To keep her off guard he gentled his touch, trailing his palm over the marks on her ass. Faint welts had been raised—nothing that wouldn’t disappear within a few hours, but at the moment, highly sensitive. With a whisper fine touch he knew would scrape like a cheese grater, he skimmed his calloused fingertips over the raised stripes.

She gave a highly satisfying whine and wiggled again.

“Are you trying to get more, or less?” he wondered out loud.

“I can’t tell anymore,” she said on a choked laugh that trailed off into labored breaths. “About this reward…”

“Yes?” he prompted and slapped the inside of her thigh.

Her strangled gasp was like music. “Is it coming soon?”

“You aren’t enjoying this?” he asked, pretending surprise, and without ceremony or warning shoved his hand against her pussy.

“I think you are,” he said, pitching his voice over her shaky moan. She was hot and swollen against his palm, and so very wet. “I think you’re enjoying it a lot.”

She pressed back into his hand, moving as much as her bindings would allow, which was actually a lot. Willing to give her what she wanted—to a point—he angled his thumb so the next time she pushed back, it slipped into her pussy.

“Oh.” She said it softly, with a kind of reverence that was as profound as a plea. Her pussy rippled around his thumb in a tugging caress and he wondered if, amazingly, she was going to come.

“More,” she begged, hips rolling, legs shaking. “More.”

He slipped his thumb halfway out, then pushed in again. The butt plug made her tighter, the hard metal unyielding on the other side of the thin wall of muscle. It flexed as he fucked his thumb in and out, the pink jewel winking between her spread cheeks.

She let out a sound, a sort of stuttering moan full of want and need and frustration. “I need more, Daddy.”

“Then what do you say, baby girl?” he coaxed, sliding his finger through the damp folds to the top of her sex. He avoided her clit, knowing from last night if he went at it she’d go off like a rocket, and he didn’t want that yet.

When he finally let her come, he was going to be balls-deep.

“I hate begging,” she complained, and the laugh that had been threatening for the last half hour finally tore loose.

“You do not hate begging,” he said, still chuckling. “Your pussy is like a swamp.”

“A swamp?” she repeated, somehow sounding both outraged and outrageously turned on. “That’swhat you say to a woman you’re trying to fuck?”

“Does ‘flooded with fuck juice’ work better for you?” he inquired politely.

“Wow. Okay. I see how it is. The rope goes on and the fuck boy comes out.”

“Fuck boy?” he said, choking back another laugh.

“Or non-fuck boy, because nobody’s actually fucking,” she grumbled, then shrieked when he used his free hand on the inside of her thigh.

“Bad girl,” he said mildly and admired the red stripes that bloomed almost immediately on her white skin. She marked so beautifully. “Be nice to Daddy, and Daddy will be nice to you.”

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