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A part of him wished she would so they could end this and put it behind them. Seeing those long, bare legs again got his blood pumping with a need he couldn’t deny, the temptation to test her cocky self-assuredness riding him hard.
“Good to know.” Releasing that stubborn jaw, he turned her to face the spanking bench. “Kneel down, hips pressed against the edge, torso prone.”
Mitchell had to give her credit for not balking or arguing as she settled into position. Her muscles were tense, her breathing hitched, but she lay facedown on the U-shaped headrest without a word. Testing her, he slid a finger under her panties and grazed the damp seam of her pussy lips. Shifting to the side of the bench while keeping his finger nestled between her puffy labia, he leaned over and whispered in her ear.
“You’re wet and swollen, pet. Are you sure you’re not submissive?”
Lillian lifted and turned her head, their lips almost touching as she replied, “You’re touching me, so of course I’m aroused. We’ve already established that.”
“Then let’s see if I can confirm a few other things.” Straightening, he pressed his finger deeper, brushed against her clit and pulled back. Flicking the side mechanism on the bench, he pushed the head down several inches until her hips were elevated above her shoulders.
Gasping, she yanked on her arms and then groaned at her inability to move. Her voice wobbled, a telltale sign he relished, as she asked, “What are you doing?”
“Placing you in one of my favorite positions.” Adding a second finger to her pussy, he stroked her into accepting the decadent pose in favor of concentrating on her pleasure. The next plunge knocked against her womb before he withdrew to circle the small bundle of swollen nerves. Slick juices coated his digits, soft muscles contracted around them and her clit hardened. Time to pull back.
A frustrated growl rumbled from Lillian’s throat but, much to his surprise, she kept quiet. Until he coasted his cream-covered fingers up her crack, dampened her anus and then breached the tight puckered entrance with his middle finger up to the first knuckle.
Her whole body quivered as she wheezed, “Oh, God. Mitchell, I don’t know about that.”
“Then say red.”
“And stop everything now?” she snapped with frustrated incredulity and a shift of her hips.
This was easier than he had hoped. “I guess I can let you skip this experiment, if you can’t handle it.”
For the first time in what seemed like forever, Mitchell let loose with a deep chuckle as she went rigid and the muffled bite of her reply reached him. “I can handle whatever you want. I’m not saying red, so go ahead.”
Working his finger inside her tight ass, he wondered whom he was really testing tonight, himself or her.
“Relax your muscles, concentrate on the sensations.”
Relax? Mitchell twisted his finger inside her butt and Lillian wondered how she was supposed to loosen up. She should stop and think before jumping to accept the challenges he kept throwing at her. The inability to move her hands didn’t bother her as much as she’d imagined, nor did the mild exhibitionism from losing her skirt. If she were to be honest, both new experiences contributed to her arousal increasing with damp preparedness as he reamed virgin territory with more vigorous strokes.
Fisting her hands for leverage, she took several, lung-filling breaths, exhaling slowly after each one. Her tension eased with every breath and deeper push inside her rectum. He used her own juices to ease his way, the very idea both shocking and stimulating. Thirty-four years old and, as startling ripples of pleasure tingled deep inside that orifice and spread to her pussy, nothing in her past encounters hinted at missing out on anything. With her sheath aching for more attention, she lifted her hips, compressing her lips to contain the verbal plea on the tip of her tongue. One mortification was enough to deal with.
“See? Not so bad, is it?” Mitchell, damn him, pressed his other hand against one buttock and held her hips down. The added restraint increased her vulnerability, inflaming her further, astonishing her with another unpredictable revelation. “You don’t need to answer, just continue to concentrate on what your body is telling you.”
He pulled slowly out of her clutching inner muscles only to return with two fingers. The minor pinch of pain eased into discomfort as he stretched those muscles with nerve-teasing strokes that caused her vaginal walls to spasm with empty privation. Her panties dampened with the thick cream dripping from her pussy as goosebumps broke out along her perspiration-damp skin. Her nipples ached, pressing against the bench, and the longing to free them of the confines of her clothing intensified with his slow exploration and tantalization of nerve endings she had never considered before.
Without raising her head, she felt him bend to her ear again, his breath warm as he whispered above the low voices, high-pitched cries and other sounds of play going on behind them. “What do you say, Lillian, are you ready for more, or do I stop,” he withdrew and then thrust deep in one smooth return plunge, “now, with this?”
Desire for the sweet oblivion of release took over and she shook her head, not needing to think it through. “Don’t stop.”
Nipping at the tender skin of her neck, he followed the quick sting with warm approval. “You please me, pet.”
Lillian tabled the pleasure his praise gave her to delve into later as Mitchell moved back, lifted his hold on her cheek and pulled out of her body and panties. Cooler air wafted over her exposed buttocks as he lowered her panties, the uplifted position of her hips putting her now exposed backside on display. It helped to feel Mitchell’s jean-clad legs brushing against her widened inner thighs, knowing his tall, larger frame blocked everyone’s direct vision of her. Instead of heated embarrassment, a molten rush of flaming lust sizzled through her veins, aided by the thrust of three fingers filling and stretching her quivering, soaking pussy.
She whimpered, a pathetic sound of need only this man could pull from her. He played with her clit, pressed against the swollen tissues lining her convulsing sheath and pummeled her depths, but never let those contractions gain momentum toward climax. Her frustration built along with her desperate arousal, her need escaping in a throaty, aching growl.
“Not yet,” he stated in a calm, seemingly unaffected tone as her tight grip around his fingers failed to keep them inside her as he pulled back.
“Damn it.” She whipped her head up, turning to see him oiling a short strand of different sized glass beads. Suspicion gripped her abdomen as heat flared hotter, both inside and out. “What are those?”
“Anal beads.” Mitchell looked at her, running his slick fingers down the shiny orbs. “Do you trust me or want to stop?”
Why did he always have to phrase things in a way that was equivalent to waving a red flag in front of her? His matter-of-fact voice and demeaner prompted her to prove she was no coward as well as attempt to shake that iron control as much and as thoroughly as he had stripped her of her preconceived notions.
“I’ll say red when I want to stop,” she said, putting her head back down without admitting she trusted him. She wouldn’t give an inch where she didn’t have to.
