He makes a spinning motion. “Turn around and come here. I want to taste you.”
I hesitate, not sure why I feel suddenly awkward. It’s not like Damien’s never gone down on me. As far as I’m concerned, his tongue is magical.
But to straddle his mouth, and backward …
The thought is both arousing and a bit disconcerting.
“Nikki.” He says my name in the kind of voice that brooks no argument, and I comply, both because he has ordered me to, and because I want it, this new intimacy. With Damien, there is nowhere he can take me that I won’t go, and so help me I want to go everywhere with him.
His hands cup my rear, and I understand the benefit of this position the moment his tongue strokes me, soft and teasing. Because although Damien is holding me, I have more control. I can shift and move, and make the pleasure build fast or slow.
More than that, I can see him. His long, muscular thighs. That gorgeous chest with just the slightest hint of hair. Those rock-hard abs that my fingers know so well.
And the beautiful cock, so hard now that I think it must be painful. And what kind of a wife would I be if I didn’t give my husband just a little relief?
Feeling both aroused and mischievous, I lean forward at the waist, which has the added benefit of moving my hips slightly even as Damien’s tongue thrusts inside me. I swallow a moan as my body tightens around him. Christ, yes, I want his cock. If not inside me, then in my mouth. I want to feel him get harder. I want to taste his arousal. I want to make Damien feel as wild and crazed as he is making me feel.
And so slowly, I lick the crown, then smile in satisfaction as he grows even harder. As he groans against my cunt before teasing me more, his tongue working magic on my clit.
I take him in, almost coming merely from the taste of him, all heat and male, arousal and spice.
Above us, the sun shines down. I feel the warmth on my back, and the knowledge that we are outside, so deliciously intimate, makes me even more aroused. A tremor runs through my body, and I know that I am close. That the storm is building and soon Damien will take me over the edge, and I so desperately want him to go with me. I use my tongue, laving and stroking, and I feel him getting harder, tighter. Closer.
Then it’s right there—so close, I’m so goddamn close—
And then his touch is gone, and I’m left stranded on that precipice, aroused and ready with no one to take me over.
Damien has managed to extricate himself from beneath me, and now he is stretched out beside me. And though he looks just as aroused as I feel, there is no denying the amusement that flickers in his eyes.
“What the hell?” I demand and earn a laugh from my husband.
“I’m pretty sure I told you this was a punishment. For doubting me, remember?”
I open my mouth, fully prepared to call him a nasty name, but then he tells me to bend over his knee.
I stay quiet. And then, because I’m feeling bold, I say huskily, “You do realize that’s not a punishment at all.”
“I know,” he says, and the dark promise in his tone makes me shiver.
He moves to sit at the foot of the chaise, and I eagerly bend across his lap, already more aroused than I was just moments before. It’s not about the anticipation of pain, though there is no denying that I will always want the pain. But I do not need it nearly as often as I used to. Now I want it only from Damien’s hand.
But this is not about battling my demons. This is about letting go. About surrendering to Damien. About letting him take me and fill me.
And, yes, it’s about pleasure. About passion.
And as Damien and I know better than most, pleasure and pain have the same core. And I willingly surrender to both of them.
The first spank makes me gasp, the sting spreading out, and then calming down as Damien rubs the curve of my rear, softening the sting. He smacks me again, just a little harder, and I feel my sex clench with longing. He slides his hand between my legs to stroke me, and I know that he is aware of how aroused he is making me. Of how much I want this—and how much I will want him after, once my ass is red and he has had his fill.
Again and again. Five more spanks and I am on fire, from the sting of flesh against flesh, but also from the erotic need to be fucked, to be taken.
“Damien.” I only whisper his name, but it is enough, and he helps me up, then settles me on his lap, my knees on either side of him so that I am straddling him as he sits on the end of the lounger, his hands at my back keeping me steady.
“I want to watch it build in your eyes,” he says. “I want to see the moment when we float away.”
“Yes.” I rise up on my knees, then lower myself onto him, slowly at first and then faster and faster until that precipice looms in front of me again, and I can see the explosion building in his eyes, my own passion reflected right back at me.