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“Then let it be pointless. What does it matter to you?”
A low, frustrated growl rumbles in his throat. “It matters for reasons you don’t understand yet, but for now”—he shows me the pinwheel in his hand—“I thought we could put this to work. You seemed to enjoy it in the club, and now I have more of you exposed.”
Any questions I had about what he’s talking about are doused as soon as he shows me the pinwheel. He presses the spikes against my thigh, running it up to my panty line, tracing the edges of the elastic.
“The thing about this tool— he says, leaning in closer as he focuses on the spikes rolling over my skin—“is that it’s sharp enough to give you a small amount of pain. I hold the power, though. I could press gently or with more force. I can watch your skin turn pink under my touch, and I could watch you bleed if I wanted. It’s not meant for blood play, though there are other tools for that.”
His eyes flicker up to mine, gauging my reaction. I break eye contact to watch the wheel glide across my skin. I want more. I don’t know if I want it harder or closer to sensitive areas, but my body screams for more.
I’m able to bend at the knees just slightly, so I do, spreading myself as wide as I can go. He uses a finger to push the lace material over so he can get closer to my center.
“Harder,” I breathe.
He obliges with a groan of appreciation. The pain is there, but more than that, there’s pleasure. It brings me to a heightened euphoria and I want more.
“Please,” I beg.
“If you want me to mark you, Mariella, it’ll be with my name, not with this,” he says, tossing the tool to the side.
I whimper and then realize he’s undressing. My teeth dig into my bottom lip as he removes his clothes, giving me a much quicker strip show.
“Now beg me to fuck you,” he says as he gets to his knees between my legs.
“Please,” I cry.
“Please what?” he asks, prodding at my center with his cock through my underwear.
“Ahh,” I moan. “Please fuck me.”
“Remember you asked for it.”
ChapterSeventeen
He leaves the bed to grab a condom and cover himself before he’s back between my spread legs, pushing the red lace to the side and thrusting through my wetness.
“Oh fuck!” I cry.
He pulls back, watching his cock withdraw from my pussy. “You’re so wet. You’ve been desperate for this dick, haven’t you?”
I nod, whimpering at his retreat. “Please.”
“Mm,” he growls. “Sí, beg for me,mi flor. Tell Daddy what you want.”
“Oh god,” I wail, my back arching. “Give it to me hard. Rough. Please.”
Vicente groans, leaving me so he can undo my restraints, but then he’s back, putting my legs on his shoulders as he leans over, fucking into me hard and deep.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant, digging my nails into his skin.
“Such a filthy girl,” he groans.
“Yes,” I agree.
He pulls out and flips me over, lifting my hips until I’m on my hands and knees, then he’s sliding back inside, grabbing my hair in his fist.
“If you’re gonna act like a slut, I’m going to fuck you like one.”
“Okay,” I moan.
