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“Pictures. Some pictures I keep on my computer.”
His eyes lit with interest. “You’ll be showing me those. But it raises an important question. Do you prefer me or the vibrator? I want to be sure you know the difference.”
He clasped her hands, using them to move the wand slowly from one side of the labia to the other, sending pulses through the base of her clit. “Oh…” her voice elevated, broke.
“Which do you prefer, Les?” His voice was even harsher.
It seemed a no-brainer, but then he showed just how diabolical he could be. He made her hold the head in the place most likely to incite an orgasm. His grip kept her there, but otherwise he didn’t touch her. “If you prefer me, then you won’t come when it’s just the wand.”
There was zero way to stop a purely physical reaction to electric vibration. Even so, looking at his erection, the demand in those gray eyes, the curve of that sinful, firm mouth, he was giving her every incentive in the world to make mind triumph over matter, science over fucking wishful thinking, fantasy and desperate hope.
He intended her to fail. Or he wanted to see how hard she’d try to obey him. Every other thought left her except trying to succeed, to show him how much she wanted…
“You,” she gasped, and now those tears had another reason for falling. “Please, Brick, don’t let me fail. Please…”
He pulled the vibrator away and pushed her arms back over her head. She was too close, she was going to go over, but he gave her pussy a slap sharp enough to have her squealing. Her legs reflexively started to close, though he stood between them.
It didn’t matter. He still barked the admonishment. “Hold them open.”
He kept doing it, spanking her cunt. The pain didn’t matter. She was so aroused, so under his control, that it shoved her through a narrow door lined with knives, into an orgasm so intense, so wrapped up in her emotions and needs, she knew it really would tear her into pieces.
Heedless of neighbors, she screamed, her vocal cords straining. Her thighs strained against his braced legs when he sealed his hand firmly over her spasming, damp sex, letting her feel the full pressure of his palm and fingers, absorbing the aftershocks. Her blood pulsed against his touch.
She was muttering “Oh God, oh God…” and rocking against his hand. He put his other hand behind her neck, pulling her up so her head dropped back and he took her mouth. It wasn’t a kiss. It was that reminder of ownership, that she was his to do with as he pleased. He would keep reinforcing it, she was sure. Until she couldn’t ever doubt it.
Proving it, he eased her back down and she saw his cock, hard and thick. She was so sensitive from the spanking, she quaked a little, but he put his fingers in her, confirming all that slippery wetness was still there.
He didn’t ram into her. He’d spanked her ruthlessly, but he eased his broad tip inside, bracing himself over her.
“Brick.” She stared up at him.
“Hold onto me, baby. Just work me in. I know you can do it. Just like before, you work your cunt over my cock, only this time it’s to take me to the hilt.”
She did, her breath shallow and fast. It was uncomfortable but not painful, though every inch forward against her sensitive tissues made her whimper little pleas.
“That’s my good girl.” He crooned it to her throughout, an erotic lullaby. “My sweet girl.”
Sensation swirled outward as he seated himself fully and put his hand on her face, fingertips in her hair. Still braced on one arm, he began to stroke, a slow thrust and retreat. She had her legs crossed over his hips, holding him, her heels against his tight ass. Her arms above her head kept her upper body displayed and arched for him. He gazed down at her, watching her, his own face implacable.
He was Brick, someone she’d always known, but something more, that he’d become as an adult. Something her grown-up self wanted with a hunger that eclipsed every other thing she’d ever wanted. He was the center, the core of every need.
He kept going, dipping his head to kiss her breast. He drew the nipple in his mouth to suckle and play. He was feasting on her body, taking his time and pleasure. His hips started to plunge deeper, his thighs and ass flexing under the hold of her legs.
She was gasping with every thrust, wishing her hands were free, but he at last gripped her bound wrists and guided her to drop them over his head. Her fingernails scraped his back as he came with a harsh groan, her hips tilting up and her answering him with a cry as his seed jetted into her.
Oh God. It was too much. But he wasn’t done. He slowed down, but he didn’t stop. He slid her hands from over his neck, kissed her fingers with lingering touches of lip and tongue, before he pushed her bound wrists over her head yet again. As he gazed with avid male appreciation at her breasts, he eased out of her body.
She was shuddering with need. She hadn’t expected to start up the slope toward another orgasm, but as if he’d looped that belt around her throat and tugged on it like a leash, up she’d gone, sensations building so fast, pulsing so she was moving against his thighs and cock, grinding herself shamelessly.
“You’re hurting for more, baby, aren’t you?” A dangerous light glinted in his eye. “You’ve proven you prefer me to your toy. But it doesn’t mean I can’t reward and punish you at the same time, for not giving me the answer as fast I wanted to hear it. Or telling me what kind of punishment you think you deserve.”
He reached for his jeans and removed something that looked like a ring from the pocket. He put it over his forefinger, pushing it to the first knuckle. It had a flat base he positioned on the pad of his finger. “Let’s see what I can do with this pretty pussy that belongs all to me.”
She figured it was a finger vibrator, but finding it had a motor as powerful as the Hitachi startled her. Or maybe he’d just made her so sensitive it felt that way. The result was the same. He caressed her still vibrating labia with it, and then slid his finger inside her, deep and up, finding her G-spot while he stroked her clit with his other fingers.
She would start up toward that pinnacle, and just as she reached it, he would change the position or rhythm, somehow getting her even crazier and hotter, until she was begging him, to stop or keep going, she didn't know which.
She wanted to scream, cry or beg him to hold her, all at once. All the stress, the worries about today, all of it was one big tangled, hot, mess in her belly, her chest, her body. “Brick, please…”
