“No,” he said, his caressing fingers brushing her sex before he smacked her ass again. “I’m not playing fair. I’m fighting fair.”
They’d had this discussion numerous times. There was no fair in a fight. All was fair in business, war, love. A tumult of emotions swirled in her throat only to evaporate when Shane gripped the rope binding her hands, braced his right elbow at the small of her back to keep her steady on his lap, and landed a heavy volley of cracking smacks on her bottom punctuated by a recital of his options.
Blow job. Smack!
Bent over the chaise while he fucked her. Smack!
Massaging oil into her breasts then thrusting smack! into the slick, hot channel until he came.
Smack!
The list of options and the firm, teasing blows struck sparks in her pussy, and the resulting heat had her squirming against his erection, thick and straining against his button fly. She muffled her soft cries in the sage and gold damask fabric covering the chaise, and closed her eyes as shocking, unexpected heat built between her thighs.
“Ask me what I want, Natalie.”
The words cracked through the sensual haze in her brain, and her response was automatic, breathless. “What do you want?”
“The blow job. Definitely. First.”
His hand returned to massaging her stinging flesh, the touch now possessive, knowing. A shuddering breath eased out of her as the looming orgasm faded away. He pushed her to her knees on the floor. The movement tumbled her hair into her face. Firelight gilded the blond hair on his chest and abdomen as he bent forward to tuck the dark brown strands behind her ears. The gentle touch set her radar tingling. He reached into the corner of the chaise and removed her black sleep mask. Her heart pounded as she leaned away from him, but he didn’t chase her, simply crooked a preemptory finger at her.
The fire crackled at her back as she looked up into his face. The heat, the ever-present heat between them felt so familiar, so reassuring, and yet underneath simmered the fight she hadn’t forgotten, and an unusual dynamic. She wanted this, and yet she didn’t want it, or maybe that shifting emotion was that she wanted him to make her do it. He could, and he would.
That was, after all, a form of attention.
He reached out, slid his hand along her cheekbone and into her hair to pull her forward for the mask. As her vision disappeared her other senses heightened, bringing sensation into sharp relief. The ache in her buttocks throbbing in time to the sharp pulses in her pussy. Her nipples, hard little tips in the cooler air between her body and Shane’s. The silk twined around her wrists, the tassels dangling from the ends of the rope, brushing against her abused bottom and sending little tingles through her nerves.
With her vision gone the sheer animal attraction between her and Shane sharpened into stark relief. Buried under the daily obligations of work, home, and family, that chemistry was still there. A moment passed as his thumb stroked her full lips, then she surrendered to heat and shadows in her mind.
The top button of his jeans popped open. The rest of the button fly followed and cotton shifted against skin, releasing the scent of Shane’s arousal—sweat and the musk of his skin, unique to him. Another sound she decided was denim against damask as he moved forward, closer to her. Then he took a handful of her hair and began to brush the thick, soft ends against her face.
Tingles spread as he caressed her cheeks, her forehead, the tip of her nose, then her mouth. Her lips parted slightly and her tongue flicked out, chasing the stimulus but his mouth was there, soft and hot and open. His tongue caressed hers while his hand gripped her hair. Sparks skittered into the pit of her belly, and she whimpered. The sound cut off when he kissed her again, hard and deep.
Yes, oh yes.
Her high, shallow breaths danced with his deeper inhales as he gathered all her hair and draped it over one shoulder. Heat throbbed between her legs when he palmed her nape and brought her head forward. The tip of his cock bumped her parted lips. “Lick,” he said.
She did, one soft sweep over the tip, and the salty taste of pre-come spread over her tongue. She stopped, waited for the next command. If he wanted to tie her up and give orders, she’d make him tell her to do every single thing.
A rough little laugh rumbled from his chest. “Open up, sweetheart,” he said.
She did, letting his cock fill her mouth until the tip nudged the back of her throat and her lips rested against his fingers, fisted at the base of his shaft. She paused, swallowed, and the hand at her nape turned a little to grip her hair and pull. Her imagination supplied the jump in his abdominal muscles.