“Mine,” he said, then thrust two fingers inside me. “Christ, Kat, do you know how much I want you? How hard I’m going to fuck you?”
“Show me,” I said, and he lifted me up and put me on the bed. I lay on my back, but he made a circular motion with his finger. “Knees and elbows. Legs spread. I want to see your cunt. I want to see how wet you are, how much you want me. And I want to see your ass turn red when I spank you.”
I felt something shift and tighten inside me as I complied. Anticipation, yes. Longing, most definitely. But a little bit of fear, too. Because there was an intensity in his voice that hadn’t been there when he’d spanked me earlier, and that hint of fear—of not knowing what was coming or what he had planned—made me all the more excited.
“Oh, baby.” His hands stroked the globes of my rear, and I bit my lower lip as he spread me wide then slid his hand down to find me drenched and wanting. “Right here,” he said, teasing me with his finger. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, baby. Tell me that’s what you want.”
“Yes.” I could barely get the word out past the storm of emotion rattling through me.
“Tell me,” he said. “I want you to say it.”
“I want you to fuck me, Cole. Please.”
“I think you can do better than that,” he said, sliding his fingertip down to flick lightly over my clit. I gasped, as sparks and shocks raced over my skin. My nipples burned they were so hard, and my sex throbbed with a need so desperate I wasn’t sure that he could ever fuck me long enough or hard enough to satisfy.
“Kat,” he urged, thrusting his finger back inside me, then trailing his drenched fingertip up to tease my anus.
I sucked in air. “I want your cock. I want you to hold me tight and thrust into me. I want it hard, Cole. I want you to pound inside me, over and over, until I can’t stand it anymore. And then I want to explode.”
“What else?”
“Oh, god, isn’t that enough?”
He chuckled. “Frustrated, baby?”
“You know I am.”
“Then stop teasing, and tell me.”
I realized what he wanted me to say. What he’d told me he wanted to do. And, yes, what I wanted as well. “I want you to spank me.”
“Why?”
“Cole . . .” I shifted, feeling open and exposed, and not just because I was naked with his hand between my legs.
I waited for him to say something else, but he stayed silent, and I knew that this was part of my punishment, too—exposing myself to Cole. Not my body, but my whole self. My desires. My everything.
“I liked the way it felt,” I admitted, my voice so soft I knew he was having to work to hear it. “There was pain, but it was so sharp and so pure—and I was already so turned on that it was like—like it was bigger than pain. Like it was electricity, and it was sparking through me, making the whole experience bigger and fuller. I don’t know,” I finished lamely. “I just know I liked it. And,” I added before he could ask, “I want more. I want harder, Cole. I want to go farther. I want to go there with you.”
I waited for his reply. For him to tell me that I’d said what he wanted. Or, god help me, for him to demand I reveal even more of myself to him.
But Cole was done with words. Instead, his palm lightly stroked my rear. I sighed, relishing the pleasure of his touch. But I tensed, too, because I was certain that I knew what was coming.
He didn’t disappoint, and soon his hand landed on my rear with a hard smack. As before, I felt the sting, and gasped in surprise and pain. But then his hand smoothed out the rough edges and those sweet sparks buzzed through me. And then he did it again and again, alternating his blows to get both of my ass cheeks, finding a rhythm that soon had me almost floating and gasping—and my sex throbbing in demanding, unfulfilled longing.
“Now,” Cole said, when the sparks had so consumed me that I felt like I was made of nothing more than electricity. He took my hips and tugged me toward him so that he was standing at the foot of the bed, the tip of his cock pressed against me. “I’m clean,” he said. “I’ve been tested. But do you want me to use a condom?”
“No. No, I want to feel you.” I was on the pill, so I wasn’t worried about pregnancy, and I knew I was clean, too. But I appreciated his control, especially considering I hadn’t even thought about protection, I’d been so caught up in the haze of desire.
“Good,” he said. “You’re so wet, baby.” And then, as if to prove it, he thrust inside me. Slowly at first, and then, when he was buried to the hilt, he drew out and then slammed hard into me, just the way I’d asked.
I gasped, losing myself to the sensation of him filling me. Of his hands on my hips guiding me. Of the way his body exploded against mine, making my undoubtedly red ass fire even more with each thrust.
“Touch yourself,” he said, his voice tight with the effort of holding back what was surely a rising storm. “Touch yourself and come with me.”
I shifted my weight to one elbow so I could comply, then slipped my hand between my legs and teased myself with small circles, letting the sensation build, knowing that he was claiming me totally and completely—and losing myself to the pleasure of that sweet and decadent reality.
He exploded then, his fingers digging hard enough into my hips to bruise—and that was just enough to send me over, too. He waited for the shudders to die down, both his and mine, then pulled out and slid onto the bed, pulling me into his arms as we both lay there and looked into each other’s eyes, our sated bodies touching and his fingers stroking idly over my naked and sensitive flesh.