passed and when I grew still too he exhaled loudly. And then his hand descended again, startling my body from its calm. He thrust slow and deep, focusing on landing his palm in a different place, a different pattern, to keep me on edge.
He made a noise I recognised. It meant he was barely keeping himself in check. And in a moment of petulant revenge for my stinging ass, I squeezed my internal muscles tight around his driving cock. He laughed. It was a dark laugh.
‘Fair enough,’ he growled and pushed a finger into my back hole.
I gasped as he fucked me hard and steady until I teetered on the edge again. But I waited. Waited for the magical words I longed to hear. They came in a rough, broken voice. ‘Come with me, Claire.’
When his body stiffened against mine and he pushed two cruel fingers against the aching, pounding skin of my ass, I waited to hear his strangled cry and then allowed myself to give in to the rush of wetness and pleasure, my pussy milking him eagerly as we climaxed together.
Without a word, he pulled free of me, tugged my panties up, fixed my skirt and opened the door. He buckled me in with the seatbelt, dropped a kiss on my nose and shut the door. I focused on trying to catch my breath.
The entire ride – thankfully it wasn’t a long one – I pondered what would happen when we got to his place. The spanking I’d so desired had already been administered. A fact I couldn’t forget because I kept shifting on his soft leather seat.
He smiled in the flickering parade of streetlights and traffic lights we passed. His face morphed through silver, gold, green and red. He looked like a beautiful villain. A tempting predator.
When we arrived he cut the engine as my hands warred in my lap. Fingers plucked at one another, my wrists restless as I tried to calm myself.
‘Nervous?’
I nodded.
‘Excited?’
Another nod.
‘Aroused?’
He drew the word out and I found myself nodding again like one of those goofy dogs people put on their dashboards that nod along with the moving car.
I didn’t try to get out. I knew that would offend him. He climbed out and rounded the car, opened my door and unbuckled my belt as if I were a child. He took my hand and helped me step down out of the vehicle. ‘Take that rosy-red ass up to the porch,’ he said, finding the key he needed on his ring.
I walked ahead of him, unable to keep myself from putting a little extra swing in my ass as I did. The heat and thumping had toned down just a bit. But not much. My body was still both on alert and utterly relaxed from the fucking. I realised my hands were shaking.
I stepped into the hush of his house and it was just as immaculate as I remembered. And nearly the same. Besides the addition of a new bookshelf and a different coffee table, it was the same.
‘Take your clothes off,’ he said, dropping his keys in a decorative ball on the table by the door.
I didn’t say a word. I pulled my black sweater over my head and unzipped my skirt. I dropped both on the floor.
Michael waved a hand as he moved around getting wine glasses, pouring out wine, turning on a light or two. ‘Those too,’ he said, meaning my bra and panties.
I unhooked the bra and wriggled out of my panties, then I dropped them on the pile.
‘So what will it be? My belt on that already tender ass? A paddle? Some light bondage?’ He chuckled at the term. It had always amused him.
I said nothing. I just stared. The reason being I knew I truly had no say. He was only asking in order to fuck with me. To put me on edge and make me squirm. It was working, but I still didn’t speak.
‘You know where the bedroom is.’
I walked toward the stairs slowly, aware of his eyes on me.
In his room I stood and waited. My entire body wanted to vibrate, to rock me to my very foundation, but I managed to press my thighs together and keep my focus.
Michael walked in, watching me watch him, and began to take his clothes off. His body was just as hard and athletic as I remembered. I craved him. A craving that went bone-deep and rocked me to my core.
When he was nude, cock already standing at attention, he walked to the closet. I knew what he was after. I knew what was in there – his toys – and a fresh rush of moisture graced the tops of my thighs. I smiled at the fact that we were both utterly naked. He never was one for preamble. Once I’d tried to buy frilly lingerie to woo him, but he’d always take a single glance, cock an arrogant eyebrow and say, ‘Lovely. Now take it off.’
He’s a man of simple but exquisite taste. A Zen sex god. Simple is the best way.
He held something behind his back when he came out, and I was filled with a mix of dread and anticipation. He nodded to the bed. ‘Get on. Hands and knees. Eyes closed until I say otherwise.’
I obeyed almost giddily but right beneath the surface, just under my skin, swam a river of fear. The pain is pain until it becomes pleasure, after all. And I was so out of practice I wondered what my tolerance and my limits would be.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll be nice.’ He flashed me a grin that said, ‘You might not want to believe that, sweetie.’
I got on the bed and my nipples grew achingly tight. My hair brushed his pristine white comforter and I felt exposed, gloriously so, with my ass in the air and my pussy on full display. Wanton and swollen and wet … for him.
The bed bowed as he climbed on and I held my breath. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. His fingers entered me, sliding into me so easily I felt myself blush. He swirled them, plunged them deep, swirled again, and all I could focus on was not moving, though I wanted to. I wanted to so badly I feared I’d cry.
Those fingers disappeared and I heard them, wet, very wet, slide against something. His cock? The darkness behind my eyelids turned to a prism of colour. An unfolding of red origami that didn’t actually exist. It faded to blue just as something cold pressed against my back hole. I sucked in a breath and grew tense, though it wasn’t my intention.
‘Do you know what it is?’ His voice was caramelised sugar dripping onto my back.
‘My butt plug.’ I said it with a mix of awe and reverence.
‘That’s right. Yours. It’s been in that velvet box since the last time I saw you.’
‘You kept it.’
‘I did. And sometimes I look at it.’ He pushed the plug and it entered me by millimetres. Then he stopped. ‘I like to look at it because it reminds me of you.’
I exhaled, hanging my head, and he read my body language like a cheap but enjoyable paperback novel. The plug entered me easily then. When I was full, when I was trying to remember to breathe, he tugged back on my hips and ground his pelvis against my ass. The plug had filled up my ass, my thoughts and even my lungs, at least it felt that way. I struggled for air and I made a sound I hadn’t heard myself make in a very long time.
‘I
