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“Better,” he hummed.
“Shut up,” I barked out, nipping him for good measure. For some reason, everything that came out of his mouth felt patronizing. Rationally speaking, it probably wasn’t true, but I felt helpless. I didn’t do helpless. Thankfully, the man was smart, and after one last chuckle, he refrained from saying anything more.
He began to give me the spanking he’d promised. My buttocks bounced from the impact of his hand each time it made contact. Flushed red with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, I focused on the Persian rug beneath the bed, following the various lines of blue in the pattern as it wound around this way and that.
Every so often, after a hard smack that had me gasping and my skin flaming with pinpricks of pain, he’d smooth it over with his rough palm, stimulating an unexpected response. I shouldn’t have been enjoying any part of this. While it was useless to fight him, I should’ve at the very least snubbed him. I should’ve made a show of my ire by hissing and spitting curses at him.
But I didn’t. I lay there, absorbing every ounce of comfort he gave me. There was another underlying reason why I wasn’t fighting him with my every breath. It was a reason I didn’t want to probe into too deeply, but I wasn’t willing to turn away from it completely either. Yet again, he was making me feel cared for. I knew what neglect was, and this was most definitely not it.
He’d been genuinely horrified yesterday, and he was taking the time and effort to correct me. A man like Nicu wouldn’t take the time to do that unless he cared. It was twisted, for sure, but a part of me simply couldn’t garner the requisite amount of fury. It certainly didn’t compare to the impotent rage I felt when Mother had dumped me at a boarding school for the sole reason that she didn’t want to be bothered with raising me.
After a particularly strong swat, he made a comforting sound in the back of his throat that instantly took the sting away. The heat of his palm rested on my abused flesh, soothing away the undeniable bite from his spanking.
His hand stilled; his fingers spread over my two cheeks in a possessive gesture. When he stared down at his palm planted over my behind, I had the eerie sensation that I belonged to him. His hand slid down, splaying my thighs open to his scrutiny.
Even though we’d had sex, I’d never felt this vulnerable and exposed before. He stroked my inner thigh, reaching the apex and tickling my clit before petting the other thigh. Again and again, he caressed me in the same rhythm until my hips twitched impatiently for more.
He swatted my pussy a few times before returning to my clit.
“You’re mine, and you’ll learn to take care of what’s mine,” he whispered gruffly, although I was only half listening, what with my insane state of arousal.
His hand clapped down on my buttock, a reminder of his ability to punish me as he saw fit. At this point, I was so needy that the pain didn’t really register as such. It blended in with my overall craving, only acting to accentuate it. Knowing that I was under his watchful eyes, I gyrated my hips with increasing desperation.
“I need more,” I moaned. “More.”
“Insatiable little pussy you have, hmm?” he purred.
Humping the bed and still unable to get the needed pressure, a plea broke out of me, “Please.” I begged, “Nicu, please.”
“Fuck,” he cursed. Grasping one of my thighs, he widened my legs and settled behind me.
“Up,” he commanded as he grabbed my hips and brought me to my knees.
I whimpered, feeling the cool air waft over my fevered, wet flesh. But thank God, a moment later, he was pressing into me, pushing deep and spearing my heated, pulsing pussy until he was buried to the hilt. His hand landed on the back of my neck to brace and hold me steady. For some reason, I loved that rough hand of his.
Adjusting my position on my forearms, I let out a sigh of relief. My eyes practically rolled back in my head as I moved forward and back against his bare shaft, fucking it without restraint. It was like an inferno between us, and Nicu wasn’t about to be left behind. He began to thrust, each one hard and thorough, his heavy balls smacking against me. He was determined to prove his supremacy with a commanding and exhaustive pounding, and I relished it.
“Who does this pussy belong to?”
I clamped down on him, letting him know how much I got off on his show of dominance. Such a good girl I was.
“Who owns this pussy?” he demanded again, speeding up, his hips slapping against my tender ass.
I clenched hard again, spewing out a desperate moan.
“Who? Tell me, dammit,” he grated out, his impatient grasp tightening around my tresses. His touch might have been impatient, but he abruptly slowed his pistoning hips to an irritatingly measured pace. To torment me, I was sure.
“You do,” I whined.
“You fucking love when I remind you who this pussy belongs to. You bear down on me each time,” he warned, his tone now smug. “Such a good little doll. My dirty whore. Just for me.”
A shiver rippled through my body at the way he twisted those filthy words into an endearment. Nicu had the capability of looking straight into my soul and ascertaining my darkest fantasies, fantasies I hadn’t known existed until he unearthed them. And my fantasy now was that I wanted to play the good little slut for him. Spread my legs wide and fondle my pussy right in front of him. Show him how wet and desperate I was for him. Beg him with my body to fill me up. Ravish me. Defile me. Treat me like the dirty little secret that I was. I wasn’t a virgin or mafie. He didn’t have to be careful with me. Quite the opposite, in fact. I wanted him to take me, to use me. I wanted him to lose the control he held on to so tightly and pounce on me like a rampaging beast.
I’ve never wanted to feel owned like I did with Nicu. He was the only man to elicit this feeling, and I gloried in it. A niggling reminder prompted the thought that it was dangerous to be owned by the wrong man. Could he be the right man? With my history of abandonment, there wasn’t supposed to be such a thing, making the possibility terrifying…and deeply alluring.
I heard slapping sounds as he fucked me with leisure, as if he had all the time in the world. He was purposely going slow, the bastard, to teach me who was boss. Frantic lust shot through my veins like balls of fire. I clenched my inner walls to retaliate…and to incite him to go faster, but nothing doing.
I slapped the mattress in frustration. “Fuck me already,” I cried.
