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“Now, Steph, you know what it means to be seasoned, punished, and primed,” he whispered, abruptly dropping his lips against her ear.
With her long, low groan a delicious and satisfying reward for his work, he returned the jar to the cabinet, then rolled the table beneath her and lowered her down.
“As I release you,” he said, unsnapping the chain from her waist, “let your body relax. Don’t try to move.”
Quickly freeing her wrists and ankles from the bar, he massaged her shoulders, kneading away any discomfort.
“Feeling better?” he asked, running his practiced fingers down her back.
“Better?” she whimpered. “I don’t know how I feel, except desperate for you. My pussy is tingling and my backside is prickling hot and cold.”
“I know,” he murmured, turning off the vibrator and carefully pulling it out.
Returning to the cabinet and wrapping the lewd device in the plastic film, he dropped it in a container designated for sterilization, then moved swiftly back to her side. Scooping her up, the usually feisty, difficult woman was limp in his arms.
“Sir,” she whispered, “please may I open my eyes?”
“You may,” he replied, carrying her across the room to a thick foam mat.
Catching her gaze as he laid her down, he felt a startling tug in his heart.
He cared.
He cared more than he’d thought.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered, trying to ignore the sweeping emotion as he kneeled between her legs and leaned over her body. “I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”
* * *
Aching with a deep carnal need, her bottom burning with a strange, icy, tingling heat, and her pussy desperate for attention, Steph could barely move. Marco Moretti had taken her breath away.
Though being suspended had been a tantalizing fantasy, she hadn’t anticipated how truly helpless she’d feel. Nor had she expected a vibrating butt plug, and she certainly hadn’t imagined being salaciously stimulated with a spicy paintbrush. But he had done all those things. Now he loomed over her, bigger than life.
“Steph? Did you hear me?”
“Yes, Sir,” she managed. “It’s just—my legs are weak.”
She didn’t understand the smile curling his lips, but she didn’t have time to think about it. He was suddenly flipping her on her stomach and pulling her hips into his pelvis.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he growled, sliding his cock inside her.
Huge and hard, he filled her passage, consuming every inch of her, but as he vigorously pumped, the scintillating sensations from the mysterious liquid on the paintbrush spread through her pussy.
Her orgasm ballooned.
She wanted to call out and tell him, but he was pummeling her pussy, reducing her breathing to sharp gasps making speech impossible.
Sucking in gulps of air, she waited for the powerful climax.
He abruptly slowed.
Suddenly her arms refused to support her.
Wordlessly dropping to her elbows, she rested her head on the mat and let out a long, deep sigh.
She was lost to him.
She loved being his helpless, willing submissive.
