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The extreme pleasure.
And while I stared at his groin, my mind began to play tricks on me.
Because as I took in his erection and that delectable tip that poked out from his waistband, my brain told me he wasn’t tapping me with the soft hide of the flogger.
He was using his dick.
Even though I knew—I was absolutely positive—he wasn’t.
My mind just couldn’t stop going there.
Dreaming.
Fantasizing.
“So fucking needy,” he growled. “I can smell you in the air, and I can sense how badly you want to come.”
“Mmm.” I attempted to bend my knees, and the rope reminded me that was impossible. “Mmm,” I moaned louder when the roughness scraped me.
“It’s intensifying inside you, isn’t it, Pepper?” I lifted my stare from his hard-on as he added, “It’s screaming to erupt.”
He was right.
It was.
I turned my face away, giving him the back of my head.
His gaze was too much.
The sight of his erection was too much.
The feeling inside me—all too much.
“Trying to hide from me.” He moved to the other side of the table where I was facing, but this time, he was by my head, reaching over my body to slap my pussy. “You’re going to get punished for that.”
I yelled when I felt the discipline.
The nip on my nipple.
The sting that followed because he didn’t remove his teeth. He kept them there, piercing the hard bud.
Only releasing it to say, “Should I move to the other nipple, or was one enough?”
“Move to the other side,” I begged. “Please.”
He kept his lips parted, his tongue flat as he dragged it across the space between my breasts and surrounded the other nipple.
He didn’t bite.
He sucked.
He flicked.
And the sight I now got to relish in was the arch of his chest as he hovered over me, the thick corded muscles that stretched across and ran up his neck, the roughness of his beard. The power in his arm as he rubbed the leather against me.
Slapping, grazing, grinding.
“Oh fuck,” I cried.
