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“What?” My eyes flew to his face. He was looking back at me with utter sincerity. “You want to get me off without anything in return?”
“Sure. You really think I’m that selfish I can’t do something for someone else?”
“Your reputation implies such.” My sexual frustration was obviously turning me into a giant bitch. I was one small push from kneeing him in the balls.
His eyes narrowed. “Bend back over the bed.”
“No.”
“If we were in a relationship, I’d be keeping count right now. That’s one.”
“But we’re not.”
His hand was under my skirt before I could stop him. His fingers found my wetness, and then I no longer cared what he was doing—I only wanted him to continue. All that existed in the world was his fingers on my pussy. He inserted two inside of me, and to my embarrassment, I moaned loudly.
“I said bend over the bed,” he growled.
Guiding me with the fingers still inside me, he moved us back to the bed, where I bent over willingly, offering myself up to the feeling. At that point I wouldn’t have cared if he pulled out his dick and fucked me, but he didn’t. Instead, he withdrew his fingers...and inserted something else.
My head snapped up, and that’s when I noticed the mirror. I’d had my head down during the spanking session and hadn’t seen it, but he’d probably been watching us in it the entire time.
On the wall across from us was a full-length mirror, and in it I could see Ian standing behind me, a wooden object in his hand. The paddle. He planned to fuck me with the paddle.
“I want you to watch,” he said in a low voice, his eyes locked on me. “Look at yourself.”
I licked my lips, watching my reflection mirror the action. Pigtails framed my flushed face. The top few buttons of my blouse had come undone and my breasts were threatening to pop out of my bra. I looked wanton, slutty.
And I loved the image.
Ian began to move the paddle, and I closed her eyes, moaning softly. It was so bad to be letting him do this. I was going to regret it tomorrow. I was going to feel like a slut. But right now I couldn’t care less.
“Open your eyes,” he said in a rough voice. “Or I’ll stop.”
My eyes popped open. I watched as his fingers came around my right hip and inserted themselves between my panties and pubic mound, teasing my clit. With his left hand, he momentarily released the paddle, using his thighs to hold it in me, and grasped my left breast. Freed it from the bra and squeezed the nipple between his fingers before moving to the right breast and doing the same. Both of my breasts were trussed up and on display for him now. His dark head bent, giving me a view of the top of his curly hair as he took my earlobe in his teeth and suckled gently.
“You acted like such a good girl, wouldn’t give me the time of day. And now look at you. Look at what I’m doing to you.”
I wanted to tell him to stop talking, but his words were only making me hotter. It was as if he had a secret line into my deepest fantasies. How could he know my body so much better than I did?
Because he’s a player and you’re a virgin.
My breasts were hanging out now for them both of us see, and he began moving the paddle again, mimicking a thrusting motion with his hips, the fingers on my clit moving in the same rhythm. I couldn’t look away. The sight of him thrusting behind me made me more turned on than I’d ever been.
“I’m close,” I whispered.
“I know, sweetheart.”
I couldn’t hold on any longer. I grasped the duvet tightly with both hands, crying out as the first shudder ripped through me, my pussy clenching against the handle of the paddle that was buried inside me. His fingers were still on my clit, holding me up as I thrashed against him and struggled to pull away. I wanted it to stop and keep going at the same time.
“Please,” I begged, and he released me. I feel forward, resting a knee on the bed to keep myself up on shaky arms.
Our eyes met in the mirror and there was no denying the look on his face: triumph.
I stood without looking at him and pulled my panties back into place, straightened my skirt. Now was the moment I’d been dreading, the one where he was going to tell me he knew I’d wanted him all along and thanks for the fun time. So before he could say something that would shatter my already low self-esteem into pieces, I shut him down.
“Thanks for that. Guess it’s not every day that someone uses Ian Crawford instead of the other way around. Enjoy your blue balls.”
His mouth fell open, and if I didn’t know him for the player he was, I might have actually thought I’d hurt his feelings. And I wouldn’t have blamed him; never before had I been that cutting to someone.
Before he could recover himself and say something back, I quickly left the room.
*****
