Page 15 of Finally, His

“Yes.” She nearly breathed the word. If he wanted to fuck her in the ass—which she’d never done—tonight, she’d let him.

A loud smack against her flesh answered.

“Yes, Sir.”

He smacked her ass again and again, working one cheek, then the other, until her flesh had to be blossoming bruises. No warm-up, just a full-on spanking—brutal and sudden. Tiny puffs of air left her lips at each blow. For every sting of pain, pleasure arose—a need she couldn’t explain.

Within minutes, her hips began to arch and press into the sawhorse, almost like she wanted to fuck it, and her skin slicked with perspiration. Whatever he planned to do, if it involved putting her on the edge and keeping her there for a while, she was already there.

A wisp of a touch drew up her spine. Something red flashed in the mirror. A long feather? Where he got it from, she’d never know. She kept her gaze on him as he stared at her ass. He stared so long that her nipples hung painfully in the air, raw peaks of need.

“As I said. Beautiful.” His eyes glanced up and stared at hers in the mirror. “You thought I’d take you down here, perhaps bind you, whip you, fuck you …”

“Yes,” the word escaped her throat in a long sigh. In the mirror, she could see she wasn’t the only one. Gratitude that his cock was pushing against his zipper soothed her. And she so wanted to free it.

“Would you let me do this to you all night?” He ground out the words as he trailed the feather up her leg.

“Yes, Sir.”

He moved the feather lightly, over her back, down her thighs. Blood raised in her skin, and her forearms grew impossibly redder in the light. Then he moved between her legs. He ran the maddening feather back and forth between her folds—a bare whisper.

Her blood raced, and her legs began to twitch as her pussy demanded attention. Instead, he worked the plume over her clit—too soft, too light—until her thighs banged against the sawhorse in irritation.

He chuckled. “Someone’s ticklish.”

“Not,” she spat.

“Someone isn’t appreciative of my attention.” That maddening stroke of the feather moved up her inner thigh.

“I am. Thank you, Sir.”

Another long stroke through her folds. “You’ll take what I give you.”

“Yes … Sir.” She shuddered hard as he ran the feather along her spine, around her neck, to her cheek. “I can take anything … for you. You can … have me.”

“Say the words, Colette.”

“Fuck me.” She didn’t talk like that—ever.

“I don’t fuck anyone who doesn’t belong to me.”

The air left the room. He wasn’t going to give himself to her? He couldn’t have put up such walls already. What had she done? Or not done?

The feather returned its slow trail up her inner thigh, across her crotch, and down her other inner thigh for longer than she thought she could take.

When he finally dropped it to the ground, landing quickly now that it was soaked with her juices, he pressed his torso into her back. His cock pressed against her, and the mere thought she’d never get to really feel him? He couldn’t have meant that.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“More. Please, Sir, more.”Of you. Of all of you.

He resumed spanking her until she was arching her ass up into the air, begging for more. More of him. She needed to be breached.

“What will I do with you, little Colette? So eager for more.”

Yes.

He’d played with her—brought up a deeper desire in her than she thought possible—save one. He hadn’t given himself to her—thrust inside her and taken his own pleasure.

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