He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t ease me into it. The pool sticks in Paris are thinner than other ones, but still—this thing isn’t—is he—no.
The glossy, thick end of the pool stick presses against my dripping heat, forcing my body to stretch around the unyielding wood. I gasp, half pain, half pleasure. The wood scrapes just enough to remind me that this isn’t gentle. This isn’t romantic.
This is punishment.
Chapter Nine
Anissa
And they saymen can’t find the G-spot.
Holyfucking shit,he’s found it, and he’s assaulting it with the wooden tip of the pool stick. A spasm of pleasure rushes through me, and my hips are off the bar, my breath strangled in my throat.
“Fucking soaked,” he growls, half approving, half angry in my ear. “You act like you hate me, but this fucking greedy little cunt knows who owns it.Good.”
I bite my lip to hold back. I don’t wanna give him the satisfaction, but the wood inside me’s unyielding, pushing me to the edge, pushing me closer to bliss. It feels so fucking good. My cheek presses against the cold wood of the bar as my body stretches around the thickness of the pool stick.
“You wanna come, little witch?” The varnished end of the pool stick throbs inside me.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
My back arches in my throes. “Little brat’s been playing fucking games for weeks, but the second I’ve got her pinned down, the second I get this greedy little cunt’s attention—she’s fucking dripping all over my fingers.”
Part of me wants to tell him to fuck off, but all that comes out is a whimper.
He leans over me, his breath hot in my ear, and he nips my earlobe hard on his exhale, and a shudder of pleasure runs through me. “Beg me. Fucking beg me,” he growls.
“Fuck off,” I spit, my voice shaking. A part of me wants this, and a part of me wants to fight. I’m confused and aroused, and I want him so fucking bad.
Slowly, with agonizing deliberateness, he pulls the stick out until just the end rests at the edge of my pussy. I can feel the varnished edge, and my body clenches to be filled. But even now, I want his thick heat inside me—not just the damn wood. “Try that again, you fucking little brat.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and bite back a grin. I love getting under his skin.
“Please,” I say in the smallest, tightest voice I can.
A sharp slap lands across my ass, his palm rough and mean. “Fucking pathetic. Not good enough.” He bites my shoulder, a punishment that sends a delicious shiver spiraling through me.
“Please, fuck me. Please let me come.” My voice breaks, little raw sobs tangled in the plea. I’m laying it on thick. “I need it. Please.”
“Is that better?” He slides the stick back in deeper until I’m pinned between it and the bar, so full I can barely breathe. His free hand slides under my body, fingers curling around my clit—rough. Ruthless.
“That’s my girl,” he purrs. “My lying, running, fucking little bratty girl.” The combination of the crude pressure of the wood, the brutal circles over my clit, and the weight of his body pinning me in place—it’s too much. I explode around the stick, screaming loud enough to rip my throat raw, my body convulsing. He fucks me through it, working me like I’m his personal plaything until I’m slapping at him, begging him to stop and never stop, all in the same breath. I don’t know what I want. It’s too much. It’s perfection. And then my legs give out, and I’m nothing but a limp, ruined mess on the bar.
He pulls the stick out, dripping and slick, and tosses it to the floor with a crash. His fingers tangle in my hair, dragging my face up to meet his. Holding my gaze, he licks his fingers, savoring my taste. “We’re not done here yet,” he says, wicked promise in his eyes as he yanks the belt off my wrists. “That was your first lesson.”
I’m still shaking, my body boneless and fucked out, when my survival instincts kick in and my brain catches up.
Shit.
Run.
I slide one trembling leg off the bar, then the other, my fingers fumbling for balance. My thighs are soaked, my pussy ruined, my skin hot and raw.Fuck.
