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“No, Sir.I don’t…think so?I don’t know.Maybe?Maybe like a low-grade anal only orgasm?”
“Reach down and spread your pussy open for me.”
She watched him, a question in her gaze, but she obeyed, her fingers sliding against her wet labia.She had to use two fingers of each hand, pressing them flat along the inside of her pussy lips, in order to spread herself open.
“Your clit is lovely,” he told her, eyeing the little nub.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“How sensitive is it?”
“Sir?”
“Do you enjoy having it pinched or slapped?”
She held her breath a moment before answering.“Not…normally.But I think…”
“Think what, Nomi?”
“I think I might like it if you did it.”
It was probably just arousal talking.A needy sub would say and do almost anything.But part of him wanted to take it as gospel.To believe that she trusted him enough to allow him to both hurt and pleasure her in all the dark, delicious ways he was dreaming of.
“What’s the—” he started to ask the question, then stopped himself.They had the rest of the night for questions.Now they needed food.
“Hands and knees,” he ordered.
Nomi looked at him, a mildly outraged look stamped on her features.
“No, I’m not going to touch your clit yet,” he scolded.
She blushed, but then released her pussy lips and rolled onto her hands and knees.
Tareq took his time removing the butt plug, toying with her as he did, then took it to the bathroom, giving it a quick cleaning before washing his hands.
Nomi was right where he’d left her, on her hands and knees in the middle of the bed, pretty breasts dangling down, just begging him to fondle.
He gripped her waist, guiding her off the bed, then pulling her back to rest against his chest once she was standing.She leaned into him, her head falling back alongside his.He stroked her belly, then cupped her breasts, their weight in his palms making his cock twitch.
“Are you steady?”he asked after a moment.
“Yes, Sir.”
He squeezed her breasts, then released her and went to pick up the robe he’d dropped near the door.Nomi turned, saw what he held and frowned.
“That’s not my robe.”
“It’s not?”It wasn’t like Gabriela to make a mistake.
Her frown deepened.“It is, but it’s not the one I meant.”
“There was a solid black one,” Tareq said.“I picked this fluffy one.”
He held up the sheer gold material.The robe was floor-length with long sleeves.The neckline down to the waist and cuffs were trimmed in fluffy beige feathers.
“You picked the husband-killing robe?”
Tareq blinked then laughed.“What did you just call it?”
