Page 35 of Promise of Punishment

This time, when his lips touch mine, they’re soft, firm, and consuming. He licks the seam of my mouth, and I open, letting in his hot tongue. He tastes delicious, a smoky flavor of rich alcohol that’s sweet with a hint of spice. Something about it reminds me of Dr. Pepper, as ridiculous as that sounds. I roll my tongue with his, indulging in the flavor. Has a kiss ever been this good? Not that I can remember.

With one hand still at the back of my neck, he slides the other to my back and draws me so close, I’m pressed against his muscular chest. Good god, this man is big, his spice and orange cologne turning me on more, the scent familiar in a way I can’t explain. My nipples harden.

Wetness pools between my legs as the kiss intensifies. I wrap my arms around his neck and am about to straddle his lap when something brushes my ankle.

“Meow,” Bear cries. I ignore him, continuing with the best kiss of my life.

“Meow.” This one is long and a bit louder, not that Bear knows how to be loud. His head nudges my ankle again, and I can’t help but giggle.

I try to pull away.

“Don’t even think about it.” The Lord squeezes my waist and lifts me onto his lap so I’m straddling his big hard cock. Oh my, that feels good. I moan, and he thrusts his tongue back into my open mouth.

I hug his neck as he uses his hands still on my waist to rub my core up and down his length. My panties are embarrassingly wet. So much so, I say it out of shock. “I’m soaked.” So soaked.

“Bloody hell,” he groans and holds me as he stands. I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks to the bed, I assume. My back presses against something hard. The wall? He takes my hands and secures them above my head. His fingers dig into my thigh as he grinds against my drenched core. I moan loudly, lost in the sensations and the need spiraling inside me like a lust-fueled tornado. Each time he hits my clit, I quiver and pray an orgasm is on its way. My first. Please let me have one.

“I need to come,” I whimper. “Can you make me? Please make me.”

His breathing isn’t as labored as mine, but it isn’t normal either. The fierceness of his thrusts lets me know he’s as into this as I am. He shoves his hand down my tights from behind, his fingers sliding across my other hole before finding the spot where I need him the most.

He hisses when he feels me. “My sopping wet, angel. Do you want me to fill this?” He teases my folds and my clit.

I buck and shout, “Yes. Please yes!” Never in my life have I acted this way. Never in my life have I felt this intensity when making out. I may be embarrassed later, but I can’t bring myself to care now.

“Such a vixen,” he says approvingly and thrusts his thick finger inside me.

I feel myself squeezing him greedily. He pumps twice, and I come, moaning and panting like I’m being murdered. The orgasm is potent and longer than I expected. I ride it out, not daring to let his finger go.

A knock sounds on the bedroom door.

I’m almost too weak to care. I don’t want to care. I want to do this again, but with his dick inside me. I’d stay here all night letting him do whatever if he can make me orgasm like that again.

More knocking.

“Sorry, angel,” he murmurs. “I need to put you down.” Slowly, he lowers me against the wall until my feet touch the ground. I don’t trust my legs right now. “Don’t take off the blindfold,” he whispers and kisses below my ear.

I nod and lean against the wall, still working to catch my breath. Was I too loud? Did I get myself into trouble?

I hear him move about, then come back to me. In my ear, he whispers, “I’m taking off your blindfold. Act natural when I open the door. Like nothing happened. Understand?”

I nod, a bit offended. Am I to be his secret? Is that how it works?

Knocking sounds again, harder.

Bear strolls toward me. I scoop him up and hold him while I watch the man in the wolf mask open the door. It dawns on me that his mask was off when we were making out because I didn’t feel it when I touched and kissed him.

He doesn’t say anything, just tucks his hands in his pants pockets as he stares at whoever is on the other side. I can’t see who from where I stand behind it. He also looks impeccable, as if we weren’t all over each other a moment ago.

“Sorry,” Noah says, her voice tight with nerves. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m looking for Fable. Camila sent me.”

He nods and pushes the door open until it meets the wall, revealing me.

Her head turns my way, her mask covering her face, but not her mouth or how it forms an O. Either something is out of place on me—my skirt is tucked into my tights—or she’s surprised to see me holding Bear.

“Excuse me, ladies.” The Lord leaves the room without sparing me a glance.

Such an odd man, but such an incredible lover.