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When I said it, something nagged at me. Did she forget? Or did she not tell Michael on purpose? I pushed that thought out of my mind. It was far too Machiavellian.
I exhaled, frustrated that he was making more of this than it really deserved. "I guess we have to agree to disagree, then."
"I guess we do, but I still think I should punish you."
"No," I said, anger bubbling up inside of me. "Our power exchange only extends to the bedroom and I haven't agreed to change it. This has nothing to do with our sex life."
"It does have something to do with our sex life," he said, his voice a bit louder. "I wanted to fuck you senseless, Katherine." He stood up and faced me, his expression stony. "I'm not fucking you senseless, am I?"
"You could if you weren't so mad over nothing."
Then he pulled me against his body, one hand tangling in my hair, gripping it, pulling my mouth against his, his lips pressing mine open, his tongue finding mine, sucking it into his mouth possessively. With the other hand, he hiked up the hem of my dress, his fingers sliding up my thigh to my buttock, squeezing it, pulling me against his hips, his erection hard against my belly.
I moaned into his mouth as his fingers slipped around and under my panties, unerringly finding my clit, which throbbed with need. I felt instantly wet, my body swelling, preparing for him. I wanted him inside of me, thrusting hard and fast. He must have wanted the same thing, for he turned me around and pushed me down so that I leaned against the back of the sofa. He used his knee to spread my thighs, lifting the skirt of my dress, pushing it up over my back. Then, he practically ripped off my panties in his haste to remove them.
Before I could do anything, he was inside of me, his cock th
ick and hard. Then he lay over me, his face by mine, his cheek pressed against mine. He was breathing hard, his fingers stroking my clit. I groaned and moved against him, wanting him to start thrusting.
"I'm going to fuck you, Katherine, and you're not going to come, do you understand?"
"Then why are you touching me?" I said, my body clenching around his hardness, straining for sensation. "I need to come."
"I like to touch you. You do need to come," he said, his tone dark. "Your clit is nice and hard, and you're so wet. But you're not going to come, Katherine. I'm going to punish you for not contacting me yourself so I'd know where you were. I'm going to fuck you until I come inside of you and then, I'm going to deny you release."
I said nothing, for I was so ready, so close that I knew I'd come very quickly, with barely any need for him to even touch me.
He removed his fingers from my clit and began to thrust, hard and fast, the fingers on one hand biting into my hip so that it hurt a bit, the fingers on his other hand tweaking one nipple. All those sensations together pushed me even closer to the edge and I moved back against him each time he thrust.
"You're not going to let yourself come, Katherine, do you understand?"
I said nothing, meeting his every thrust with my body, tightening my muscles around him. He groaned, inhaling sharply.
"Don't let yourself come," he said again, his voice shaky. He was close. I could tell he was as close as I was. I didn't agree with his desire to punish me, so I did nothing to prevent my enjoyment of what he was doing. Soon, I felt the pleasure build in my body, deep in my groin, and I moaned.
"Don't come," he said, barely able to speak.
"I can't stop…"
Then, pleasure erupted through me and I went over the top, my body convulsing around his cock as he thrust all the harder, desperate for his own release. Soon, I felt him tense against my body as his orgasm began, ramming himself into me, grunting with each ejaculation.
He leaned over on top of me as both of us recovered, our bodies remaining together, my arms on the back of the couch, his on either side of them. His face was next to mine, his breath coming in short gasps. I heard him lick his lips and wondered what he'd do now that I'd disobeyed his order not to come.
"I'm going to have to find some other way to punish you," he said, and I could hear a hint of humor in his voice. "You're too damn responsive."
He kissed my shoulder and then I felt him slip out of me. I always hated that moment, wanting him to stay inside longer. He stood up straight and when I tried, he held me down, his hand on the small of my back. I knew what he was doing – watching his come dripping down my thighs.
I said nothing, biting my lip to stop from laughing. Finally, he let me up and I went to the bathroom to clean up. I started to undress, unzipping my dress. He stopped me, taking over. He took hold of my zipper and pulled it all the way down. I removed the dress and hung it up in on the back of the door and then removed my bra. My panties were still on the floor in the living room where he'd dropped them.
As I cleaned myself quickly with a washcloth, he stood in the door, his white bathrobe open to reveal his now-deflating erection, which was still impressive. He was so damn gorgeous that it was hard to be mad at him.
He watched me run a quick bath. I stepped inside the tub and sank down once the water was high enough. Then, I started washing my body, using the fragrant soap I found wrapped in pretty pastel paper.
"You're not going to say anything?" he said, a curious expression on his face as he watched me move to my knees, washing myself completely. He didn't sound angry. Nor did he sound amused.
"That was good," I said as I stood and used a pitcher to rinse off my body. "I needed that."
He shook his head slowly while I got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around my body.
