Page 46 of Roped

“Taught me?”

“Exactly how to touch yourself. For me. For my pleasure.”

And my thighs clench around him.

“Would have you start slow,” he shares, plumping my ass in his hands. “Real slow. Would tell you to touch your thighs first. Just a graze of your fingers. Tell you to move your thumb in a circle. Slowly, so very slowly. Maybe have you spell my name on your skin. Radisson, Radisson, Radisson.”

“You have a…” I swallow, squirming in his hold again, rocking almost. “Long name.”

His lips twitch as he torturously moves his thumbs on my thighs. “I’m thinkin’ about ten or so times.”

“That’s mean.”

“You’d be all angry by then,” he says, his voice thick with both amusement and something else that I feel deep in my belly. “Glarin’ at me. Probably cursin’ too. So then, I’d have to tell you to stop, turn around, arch up your ass to the fuckin’ sky.”

“Why?”

“So you know that when you break one of my rules, you get ten on your ass.” I gasp but before I can say anything, he continues, “Got a hunch, though, that it’ll end up being more than ten.”

“What, why?”

“’Cause I don’t think you’re gonna be able to keep from cussin’ every time I lay one on you,” he explains, and as if to demonstrate he spanks my ass, and he does it so hard that I have to curse. At which point his eyes glimmer and he spanks me again, rumbling, “And you get five extra for a repeated offense.”

“God, you’re…” I whisper, arching up in his arms, flexing my thighs around him. “You’re such a hard-ass.”

He hums. “Gonna let that pass. You’re still learnin’.”

I narrow my eyes in response.

And his mouth twitches again. “And not a hard-ass, just a cowboy who likes to work with his hands.”

I love his hands. Instead of saying that, though, I begin, “But I…”

“You what?”

I arch my neck and feel him run his nose along the column of it. “I don’t think I like your rules all that much.”

I hear him take a long breath and my belly clenches. “Oh, I think you’ll like it.”

“I—”

“You’ll like it,” he tells me, nuzzling his nose in my neck, breathing his words on my skin, “when by the time I’ll let you touch yourself for me, you’ll be tremblin’ like a leaf. When every inch of you will be hot and ready, ripe. You’ll fuckin’ love it when by the time I’ll let you run your fingers over that tight piece between your legs, you’ll be seepin’ out of your juicy little hole. You’ll be runnin’ down the crack of your sore and red ass, makin’ a complete mess of yourself and your blue sheets. By the time I’ll let you play with yourself, darlin’, you’ll like how your finger slips in your juices and how soft and puffy you feel down there. But most of all, you’ll love it when only a few seconds later, maybe by the third stroke, you’ll come apart for me. Fall to pieces for my pleasure.”

I think I’m already doing that. Or at least I’m this close to it. As it is, I’m definitely trembling like a leaf as he said I would, and I’m so slippery that all I can do is writhe and whimper. “R-Radisson.”

He grips my ass harder, his fingers brutal and thrilling as he whispers against my mouth, “I know.”

“No, but I think—”

“Can smell you.”

“What?”

He breathes against my mouth for a few moments like he wants to gather himself before explaining, “Can smell your sweet cunt.”

A spasm goes through me at his words and my hips become haphazard in their movements. “I think I’m…”

“Do it.”