When it’s lengthened as long as it can go, my tongue flicks and teases the trapped head of her nipple. Long, swirling circles and lashes, then my teeth release it with apopto spring back.
Yeah, she likes that. I move my mouth to the fullest part of her tit and rake my teeth down the thin, sensitive skin, lightly biting on her little bud when I reach it.
Bite. Suck. Flick.That elicits a shriek from her.
"Amos! Wha—"
I pull back to encourage her. "Just go with it, baby. I need this...need you." My voice is raspy with desire. I bury my face under her breast, breathing in her scent where her soft globes meet her chest, then lick a curving path from one side to the other, relishing her moans and squirms as she throws her head back against the cushion.
Abs flexing as I crunch upwards, I turn her towards me a bit more, tonguing my way up the line of her cleavage and traveling to her other breast. Can’t have it feeling left out.
If anything, I’m more aggressive in my attentions now, pulling and biting harder than I did on the other side, enough so that Mercy flinches and tries to draw back.
I pull off with a pop and growl, "Gimmethis tit, baby girl," and roughly scrub my facial stubble all over the tip of her breast, painting it a glowing pink.For suregonnaneed some ointment. Sorry, Mercy.
The most arousing little squeaks escape her mouth as her hands spasmodically flex on my shoulders. I want those hands somewhere else. Reluctantly, I temporarily take one hand away and reach for hers. "My hair, baby. Dig into my hair," I mumble against her swollen bud, giving it a teasing suck. When I feel her fingers tentatively pulling, I grunt. Gives me goosebumps.
Putting my hand back where it belongs, I smush her breasts together so I can easily move from one nipple to the other, alternating stinging bites, hard sucks, and ticklish licks.
"Amos," Mercy hisses, squirming as if she's trying to get relief for the heat between her legs. I have a strong hunch that she's one of those women who could come with just nipple stimulation. But that'll be something we can test later.
For now, I really need her to understand that spanking—at least the kind of spanking I'm going to do to her—isn't anything to be afraid of. I want her to desire it, even crave the caress of my palm before it rears back and delivers pure ecstasy to her fleshy bottom. All designed to heighten her arousal. Never to hurt her or punish her.
Never.
When her breathing turns to pants and gasps, I pull off the nipple I've been sucking, thesmall noisebarely audible over her breathing.
Time to teach my kitten that she has absolutely nothing to fear from my hands. That pain administered in the proper setting can indeed be pleasurable.
Chapter sixteen
Mercy
Whydidhestop?I stare down at him, stunned and unbelievably turned on. Arousal shines from his eyes as his deep voice rumbles, "Do you trust me?"
Trust.
Something I've struggled with my entire life. It's so hard to trust anything or anyone but myself.
Do I trust that Amos will feed and clothe me? Yes.
Do I trust that he doesn't intend to hurt me? Yes, I do.
But do I trust him enough to open up myself emotionally and allow him the ability to completely destroy me? To willingly place my vulnerable heart in his giant hand that could smash it to pieces, simply by pressing just one bit too hard?
Not yet. Not completely. But I want to.
His slow claiming is coaxing me more than he knows, making my mind and body inexorably crave this crazy love he's offering me. My trembling fingers smooth his hair away from his hairline that's still so full. "Iwantto. Does that count? The fact that I want to?"
Amos sits up and drags me onto his lap. "That means the world to me. Will you let me gain a little more? Show you the spanking I want to give is nowhere near the abuse you were given as a child?"
WillIor won't I?I turn the thought over in my mind.
"Growth doesn't happen by living in the past, Mercy. If you're always looking back, you can never see what's in front of you. Me." He places my hand on his chest. His heart booms steadily underneath my palm. "I'm right here. Wanting to love you."
My fingers spread across his nipple through his shirt, then trail down his muscled arm until I reach his hand. I pick it up, my own hand engulfed in its mass. He's strong. So strong. Working construction has given him some serious muscles.
I trace the lines on his palm. His skin isn't the smoothest. In fact, it's a bit callused in spots, but the rough texture screams masculinity. These hands have done lots of things to me—some of them uncomfortable—but never have they outright abused me.
