Be more careful, Vicky.
He rises, forcing me to take a step back, but doesn’t release his grip on my waist. Then I’m being lifted, like I weigh nothing, his biceps tightening and shoulders flexing. He sits me on the edge of the table, and now he’s between my knees. The camisole isn’t long enough; the wood is cold against my bare ass.
Alex steps into my space, and I can’t hold his gaze when it’s that intense, that hungry. I look down.
He places a fingertip under my chin, tilting my face up, not letting me hide. Then his lips brush mine. “This was a good idea of yours,” he murmurs, almost playful.
It was a terrible idea.
It wasn’t even an idea; it was a joke. A bad one, as it transpires.
His hands run down my arms, raising goosebumps on my skin. “I can’t resist you, lookinglike this.”
“Not here,” I whisper, putting a hand on his chest to hold him off. I don’t hold much hope it’ll work.
It doesn’t. His hands come around, encircling my waist again, then slide up to my breasts. The camisole isn’t on my side; it makes him want to touch. And it’s helping him, too; my skin tingles beneath it.
I don’t want to be aroused by him, but I can’t help myself. My body has always responded to him, from the first day we’ve met and every time since. It’s only gotten worse since…
He pinned me down and spanked me.
“Why so sad?” he asks softly, head tilting to one side.
“I’m not,” I lie. “I’m just… sore, and worried you’ll be disappointed with me…”
He shakes his head. “Never. How could I be? You’re perfect.”
Like a vase is perfect. Or an expensive car, perhaps. A piece of art… a statue…something to stand in the corner and ignore.
“Are you really too sore?”
“Yes,” I say, serious. “Don’t even think it.”
“Poor Tink. And it was all my fault. I know, I’ll kiss it better.”
He’s dropped to one knee before I can react, his hands on my waist, sliding the camisole up and baring me. He’s between my legs, and I can’t close them.
Then his mouth is on me, and I gasp.
In the mirrors, I see myself and the back of hishead, between my thighs.
So sensitive. His face presses into me, chin rough with stubble. He didn’t shave this morning, and my pussy is tender, the sharpness almost too much. But his tongue is gentle, almost soothing. Until he finds my clit.
I can’t help my cry. It’s half pain, half pleasure, too loud in the quiet room. I try to muffle it, knowing the walls are thin and that we’re not alone, not really. But Alex doesn’t care. He licks again, crouched before me on his knees. A submissive position for anyone but him. His hands hold me, controlling me. His tongue plays me, forcing my body to respond to him. His shoulders keep my thighs spread open, not letting me hide.
Then he pushes his tongue inside my hole, and my hips buck. I reach behind me, bracing on the table with one arm, fingers of my other hand driving into his hair. I’m not sure if I’m trying to pull him away or hold him to me, arousal warring with all rational thought.
This is why Alex is so dangerous, because I can’t trust myself around him. Even less when his mouth is on my pussy.
I’m sensitive within, but his tongue isn’t enough to cause pain. Instead, there’s a twisted combination of pleasure and smarting, like… damn it, like when he smooths away the sting of a spank.
Why did I think of that?
Our whole relationship is twisted, and I’m losing myself in it. Just like I’m losing myself to his tongue,right now.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on the crease between pussy and thigh. “So delicious,” he adds, trailing kisses across my labia, his stubble prickling my sensitive skin. “So mine.”
I’m no longer—
