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Rather than tighten his hold on her neck, Tareq’s other hand reached down for one nipple.He slapped it with three fingers, then pinched, twisting hard, the fabric grinding into her skin.
Pain flared in her breast and she tried to hunch her shoulders, but his hold on her neck kept her still.Nomi gripped the edge of the table as he twisted her nipple the other way, his fingers hard and merciless.
“Spread your legs.”
She parted her legs, the robe falling open, smooth fabric slithering over her thighs.
He released her breast, petting her with gentle fingers as he slowly removed his hand from her neck.
The pain had been a good physical distraction, while his uncompromising commands and control over her body stoked her submission, turning the throbbing pain in her ass into a sweet reminder of her punishment.
He stayed behind her for a moment, hands now on her shoulders, before asking “French 75?”
Nomi cleared her throat.“I don’t need it to be complicated.Maybe some Moscato if they have it?”
He bent over the back of her chair, his lips near her ear.“I have no problem with complicated.”
“Thank you.”When she turned her face to his, her lips brushed his cheek.
She wanted to kiss him, really kiss him, his lips on hers.
“If they have a nice Moscato, I’ll bring you that.If not, I’ll duck over to the library and make you a proper drink.”
“Thank you.”
“One thing before I go.”His hands settled on her shoulders, then slid down to cover her breasts.
She arched up into his hands as he palmed her.One nipple still ached from the rough pinching, and she wanted him to do the same to the other tit, to even out the pain and pleasure.She loved how handsy he was with her.It made her feel wanted.
Tareq’s fingers hooked the marabou lined edge of her robe and spread it open.The feathers dragged over her nipples.He tucked the fabric carefully along the outside of her breasts, baring them and framing them at the same time.
“Now that is lovely,” he murmured, rolling her nipples between his fingers even as he straightened.
Nomi let her head fall back against his waist, her hands gripping the edge of the table.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He left her then, her nipples hard and alert, breasts bare and pussy very, very wet.
The faint draft from people constantly opening and closing the door cooled her wet folds.Made her aware that though she was mostly hidden by the table her legs were spread, pussy on display.
It jangled her confidence a little bit that he hadn’t yet really touched her pussy.There had been people in the past who hadn’t been interested in her sex, because they weren’t attracted to her, and not touching her sexually was a sign of that.
Nomi closed her eyes, forced her thoughts away from that.She hated this.Hated the doubt that she couldn’t ever escape.It was naïve to pretend that her body type wasn’t a factor in how people treated her, but at the same time she did consider herself sexy.When she looked in the mirror, she saw soft curves and found them beautiful.
And not just her own larger than acceptable body.She loved images and videos of plus size women enjoying sex.One of the things she liked least about Las Palmas was the homogeneity of body types.Due to the high price point, many people here were wealthy.Body type wasn’t just about lifestyle, genetics played a factor, but there were also clear links between weight and socioeconomic factors.Wealthy people could afford the luxury of time to prioritize their physical appearance, and make changes to their lives in order to get and maintain the body they wanted.
Nomi was wealthy—that was as much a fact as her body size was—but she’d done her years of trying to shape herself into something her genetic code didn’t agree with.It had been misery, so she’d stopped, and focused instead on accepting and then loving herself.
During that journey she’d already realized that she not only loved her body, but she loved the female form, both aesthetically and sexually.
Nomi considered herself bisexual, though up to this point she hadn’t had a romantic relationship with a woman.She hadn’t had much in the way of romantic relationships full stop.Even before she identified as bisexual, she had regularly scened with women both at Las Palmas and in her early years exploring the lifestyle.
Nomi closed her eyes, slumping a little so she could rest her head on the back of the chair.She was tired of this.Tired of fighting with herself and the world about how she looked.About being alternately—and sometimes simultaneously—defensive and proud of the space she occupied.
Being assigned a partner, someone who hadn’t actively picked her, had brought all this up once more.And despite everything he’d said and done, on some level she doubted that Tareq was really attracted to her.
“Tired?”
