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“I rule this, babe, don’t I?” The fingers crept into her slick pussy, finding little hindrance.
“Yes!” she sighed. “You rule me, Master.”
As Jason led Gemma by the hand upstairs, she called down to the nanny in the kitchen. “He’s all yours for a bit, Clara.”
In his keenness, Jason stripped Gemma naked with none-too-gentle hands, tearing a hole along the seam of her blouse then he scooped her up and threw her on the bed.
“New York went well, then?” she gasped between his tonguing kisses and wrapped her legs about his waist.
“Very. Shut up,” he said not unkindly then smothered a nipple with his mouth, his sharp teeth nipping on her delicate teat.
The frantic tumble, Dominant style, ensued between the sheets. The bed coverings didn’t stay in place long, rammed by feet until wedged at the base of the bed.
“Please may I come for you, Sir?” she implored melodically, kneeling on all fours, her bottom wiggling at him.
“Yes.” He thrust without pausing. A deep penetration, swinging into her, battering her pussy. She revelled in his urgency and, ignoring the possibility of ending up sore, she held firm. Her breasts shook uncomfortably as she held onto the headboard. The orgasm happened spontaneously. A burst of tremendous spasms turned her clit into an instant nest of painful nerve endings. A scream of delight escaped her mouth, as he drove into her. He clamped a hand over her mouth, “Shut up!”
On he went with his speedy rhythmic pummels and the much-needed sensation began to build all over again.
“Are you coming again?” He panted.
“Yes…Sir,” she stammered, holding her breath.
Slippery insides aided Jason, giving him the pace and force he desired. The slapping noises as his flesh hit hers added to her arousal. He tried to temper her desire with bites and harsh squeezes of her tender thighs and sex lips. Her body collapsed, bringing his muscular weight down on to her slender frame.
“Please!” she shrieked, her face shoved into a pillow. Nothing seemed to hinder her sexual appetite nor his. She wanted more, so much more.
“Greedy little slut, aren’t you.” He rose, hoisting her back on all fours. Driven by impatience, she shoved her bottom higher, lifting her cleft. His fingers parted her cheeks, smearing her juices about her anus. Jason growled as her legs quivered. His pincer-like hand clasped the back of her neck, steadying Gemma, giving her a signal of readiness. Then Jason penetrated her tight bud with one hard thrust, and the intrusion put her in her place. He spat on his hardened cock, moistening it, allowing the shaft to go deeper.
Pain shot across her opening. She whimpered, desperate to achieve some kind of relaxation to alleviate the discomfort.
“Oh. Oh!” she whined, losing the impetus to respond.
His occupation of her tight anus caused a pandemonium of intense pleasure and pain. Her legs shook, and she buckled underneath his ferocious movements, flattened onto the bed. He performed press-ups, rising then hurtling down as she stretched about him, allowing him to gain momentum. She saw his biceps bulging by her head, inciting her to stick her bum higher, propelling herself backwards to meet him. She moaned, snivelled, and, throughout the raw fucking, she fought off the intense need to come again.
“Oh. Please may I come, Sir. Please,” she wailed. He made her wait, groaning as he filled her. A violent judder of his limbs accompanied his ejaculation.
“Now, come!”
Gemma felt ripped apart by her orgasm, even though he’d stopped moving and held himself steady inside her flexing muscles. She writhed with the cramping, drifting close to the sensation of losing consciousness.
He eased out of her. “You all right?” he asked, lying down.
She sighed, limbs flopping into a heap of inertia. “Yes, fine.”
He patted her bottom. “Clean yourself up. Please make me a sandwich while I shower. I have to get back to the office this afternoon.”
“Oh!” She frowned with disappointment, crushing her unrealistic fantasy of an afternoon of wild sex.
He slapped her bottom hard. “Move, my slumbering slave.”
Gemma smiled at the comment. In a post-coital haze, she loved the though
t of being his slave.
Clara didn’t make a remark about what she must have heard from on high. There was a look of envy on the nanny’s face—or was it Gemma’s imagination—as Clara watched her flounce around the kitchen making Jason’s baguette. He came down in a fresh suit, his damp blond hair sparkling in midday sunlight.
Collecting Joshua from his high chair, Jason sat with a baguette in one hand and his son propped on his lap.
