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He laughs. “You’ll be punished, of course.”
“What kind of punishment?” I sound entirely too eager—and I am.
“Oh, no,Princesa. You don’t get that information up front. The anticipation is all part of the fun.”
“Your fun or mine?”
“Stop talking and open your mouth,” he urges gently.
When I let my jaw go slack, he pushes two fingers into my mouth. They taste of Port.This one is vastly different than the last. As I suck on his fingers, I know it right away.
“It’s a thirty-year Tawny.”
“Good girl.”
I hear the pride in his voice.
“Now let’s go back to the vintage. In a different vessel this time. Maybe it’ll help you identify the year.”
He places a hand on the back of my neck and presses my head down. “You’ll need to lap it up like a pampered pet who eats from her master’s hand.”
A myriad of emotions swirl inside, engulfed by heat and laced with a tad of shame, just enough to heighten the seduction.
Slowly, I stick out my tongue until it reaches the fortified wine in his cupped palm.
“Drink, my pretty,” he purrs.
And I do. I drink until the vessel is empty, and then lick the sticky residue from his skin while my arousal leaks onto my panties.
“1960.” It’s a guess, but that was a great year—and the Port I lapped from his hand is a special vintage.
“Good guess. Impressive. But you’re wrong.”
You’re wrong.The words shimmy through me in a seductive dance, dragging thin silk scarves behind them as they await the delicious punishment. “What happens now?”
“My turn to taste. But it was such a good guess, I think you should be rewarded.”
He hooks his fingers in my panties, and I lift my hips off the table to help. I want them off as much as he does.Maybe more.
When his breath hitches, I know he sees the jewel.
“Are you wearing this for me,Princesa?” he asks, tapping the red stone in a way that makes my pussy quiver. His voice is raspy and his breathing is heavy and shallow.
The pressure from the plug is no longer uncomfortable. I smile.
“Yes,” I reply. “I’m wearing it for you.”
I’m certain I feel his hand tremble before it tightens on my hip.
“Mmmm,”he murmurs, his nose grazing my ear. “Have you ever used the plug while you stroked your pussy? Have you come with it in?”
“No,” I squeak. It’s the truth. I’ve been experimenting with having it inside me, but I’ve never come—although my fingers might have wandered between my legs, but not for long enough to orgasm. With a preteen in the house, I don’t have quite as much time in the morning to linger in bed and play.
“Lie down,” he says, nudging me until my back is flat on the tasting table.
I feel his hands on me, then his tongue. I’m not accustomed to the new position, and when I squirm, he slaps my thigh.
“Ah!” I gasp at the unexpected sting.
