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A rush of sensation floods my sex, and my breath catches. “What did you just say?”
“You enjoy the degradation.”
I shake my head, my gaze fixed on that huge cock. Its tip has changed from a deep pink to purple, with a bead of fluid that makes me ache for a taste.
Marius is wrong. I hate being called filthy names, yet why did I have such a strong reaction?
“Dirty girl,” he drawls, and the sound goes straight to my clit.
The finger circling it quickens, bears down with more pressure, and I groan.
“What kind of fucktoy displays her bare cunt to a man she’s only just met?”
A needy moan escapes my lips. I rub my clit with tighter circles. It’s not the words that arouse me, it’s the way he says them. Like he approves wholeheartedly of what I’m doing.
Marius is so calm and in control. Most men would stroke themselves, but not him. He’s riveted—by me and can’t conceal the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
“What were you thinking about when you were touching yourself?” he asks.
“I was imagining me over your knee,” I lie, because scrambling around trying to get the room tidy isn’t the action of a sugar baby.
“You like being spanked?” he asks.
I have absolutely no idea what it’s like to be spanked in real life, but the authors make it insanely hot in the books.
“Love it,” I say. “And paddles, whips, and floggers. There’s nothing better than a man who takes control.”
Marius groans at my words, and I feel a thrill of triumph to have made him react.
“You naughty little brat,” he growls. “I want you to open those pretty thighs wide.”
My breath catches, but I spread my legs until they tremble with the strain, imagining his hands holding me open.
“Good girl. Now, show me how you cum while you’re fantasizing about me.”
I lick my lips, feeling so exposed, lying on my bed displaying my drenched pussy. Anyone could walk in right now and see me, as I can’t remember locking the door.
The thought of getting caught makes my heart skip, and I rub harder, faster as though tempting fate.
Marius slides his fingers up and down his length with firm strokes. Then he lavishes that bulbous cockhead with a circular swipe of his palm.
I rub back and forth over my swollen clit, my movements mirroring his, while imagining what it would feel like for him to give me pleasure.
Each stroke is a swirl of sensation that lingers around my core until that entire region of my body becomes a raw nerve.
“You’re close,” he says.
I nod, too preoccupied with his fluid, up-and-down movements to fully register that my breathing is ragged. Touching myself under his command feels like he’s the one pushing me toward a pool of molten ecstasy. I circle its edge, getting closer to climax with each successive stroke.
Marius pants hard, his chest and abs expanding and contracting as he pumps that huge, hard cock.
The pulse between my ears is a drumroll.
I am on the brink of falling, when he says, “Fuck your pussy with your fingers.”
“But I’m about to—”
“Now, Phoenix.”
