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"What?" she whines.
"Say my name."
"No."
"Oh?" I pull her off my cock, and she glances down at where my dick stands up at attention between us.
"Why did you do that?" she wails.
"So I could do this." I pull her back further, then bring down my palm on her pussy.
"What the—" she howls. "What are you doing?"
"Making you say my name."
"Don’t you dare, Whittington."
I spank her core again.
Her back arches. "Fuck you, Hunter."
"Just my name."
"No way."
I slap her on her clit, and again, and she orgasms.
41
Zara
Holy hell. I’ve never orgasmed simply by being spanked between my legs. But there you have it. Another first for me. The other being, I decided, of my own volition, to put my career at risk and agree to ride with him, and then, because that wasn’t enough, I decided to fuck him enroute to the event. But I don’t regret it. Not yet. Not when the added edge of the time running down to reaching the gala is clearly accelerating my ability to orgasm back-to-back. The climax punches through me, then dies away, just as suddenly. I begin to slump, but he holds me up.
"Eyes on me."
I open my eyelids, which must have fluttered down of their own accord, thanks to that last orgasm. Then, I’m gazing into his now midnight blue eyes, and all other thoughts vanish from my mind.
He releases his hold on the nape of my neck, only to squeeze my hips and position me, once more, over the swollen head of his cock. He nudges my opening and my legs tremble. My toes curl. A shiver squeezes my lower belly, and he’s not even inside me yet.
"Hunter," I rasp.
His eyes flash. An expression of satisfaction sweeps over his features. He yanks me down and onto his cock. "You are" —thrust— "mine. You hear me?"
I can only gasp as, once again, that thickness… Oh, that incredible girth of his, which still feels like it’s the first time, and yet, it’s also so familiar how my channel struggles to adjust to his size. The sweet pain of his intrusion convulses up my spine, and it’s so right. So hot, so everything, I can’t stop myself from leaning in and placing my lips on his.
He instantly takes control. Of course, he does. He wraps his mouth around mine and sucks on me as if he’s trying to absorb my very essence into himself. Then he fucks me. He tunnels up and into me with such force, the entire cabin of the car seems to shake. He drives up and crams himself fully inside of me, once more, hitting that spot. This time, the trembling begins somewhere at my toes and spirals up, up to my core. He pulls back, thrusts up and into me, and at the same time, he wraps his fingers about my throat. "Come with me, Zara," he orders.
I do. I orgasm right there, for the third time, and still holding my gaze, he empties himself inside of me. I begin to slump again, and this time, he rests his forehead against mine. For a few seconds, we stare at each other then— "Two minutes to arrival, Mr. Whittington, two minutes." The chauffeur’s voice fills the space.
He kisses me hard. I nod. We haven’t spoken, but the understanding between us is seamless, as I move, and he helps me to lower my legs onto the floor of the limo. I reach for the paper towels by the window but he curls his fingers around my wrist. "I want you to feel my cum dripping out of your cunt as you meet and greet people tonight."
I flush. "You’re a filthy beast."
"And you love it."
I begin to protest, then stop myself. Unfortunately, he has a point. Instead, I reach over, pull at his collar and bite the side of his neck. "Now, we’re even."
I slide the dress down over my hips and take my seat next to him. He rubs his thumb across the reddening patch of flesh, then pulls off his bowtie and throws it aside.
