“If you insist.”
He held the door for her. “I do.”
“I hate that I can't touch you,” she said when they got on the elevator.
“You can punish me for it,” he volunteered, pressing the button.
“Oh, I will.” There must have been less paint on his palms because those weren't turning things green.
She let him into her apartment, and he set the cake box on the counter next to the limes. “I’m ready.”
She grabbed a towel and put it over one of the wooden chairs from her table. "Assume the position."
Never hesitating, he bent over the chair and flipped up the back of his kilt.
Lily thought her eyeballs were about to explode out of her head because he wasn't wearing underwear today. He wore a jock strap, which left his ass completely white and bare, which meant no one had painted him there. "Forget something?"
"No." His yellow eyes burned her skin.
"Any requests, boy, before I commence with your punishments?" She kicked off her shoes and dropped her purse on the counter behind him.
"Take off your dress, so I can see all of you." He’d been carefully watching her movements
"No." Using the crop, she hit his ass four times in rapid succession, and she had the thrill of satisfactionas each slash left a red mark on his pale skin.
It was more than a thrill. Hitting him was positively exhilarating and only made her hornier. Her nipples were tight little beads and her pussy dripping wet.
"Are you adequately disciplined now?"
"Take off your dress," he repeated defiantly.
She hit him on the shoulder, hard. "Something wrong with your ears? I said NO."
"Why not? Because you don't want me to see your body?"
She pursed her lips. The first night she'd been so drunk she hadn't been self-conscious, but now he could see her endless battle with the twenty pounds she kept gaining and losing and the stretch marks that appeared during puberty and never went away. "My body is—"
"Divine," he supplied. "I've already seen you naked, and I think about it constantly."
"If that's true, then why won't you fuck me?" She traced the mark she'd left on his shoulder blade with the crop.
“You don’t need your boy’s cock to feel good. The boy can give you what you crave.”
“Get off the chair.” He jumped up, and she sat down on the towel, wiggling out of her thong and tossing the dress over her head.
If she’d thought his response was hot before, the way he dropped to his knees in front of her out flamed it. He scooted toward her. “Mistress, can I?”
“Yes.”
He was between her legs immediately, the towel flipped over each thigh to let him widen her legs.
They both knew she’d been wet, but he was taking her to a different level now. She rested her hands on his head above the green makeup and enjoyed the work of his tongue. Gene licked and sucked her clit, taking maddening and random detours to her channel. He didn’t appear to care each time she jerked or flexed her hips, possibly trying to suffocate him.
“More, boy. Inside me,” she cried, not sure how he’d interpret her command.
Gene responded by moving the towel higher on her hip. “The mistress will like this next part.”
She almost came out of her skin when he set his lips to her nipple and used one hand to probe BOTH of her holes. He didn’t slow, using her own lubrication to fit his fingertip into the rosette of what had been virginal.
