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“I know. You’re my compass. My nearest town.” I lifted my head and gazed into sky blue eyes that seared me. Love burned sometimes like the hottest fire.
“You’re going to behave at Andrew’s wedding next week,” he said. It wasn’t a question. He’d be there with me, anyway, to ward off any lost phones or alcoholic excess.
“Yes, sir,” I promised. “I will absolutely behave.”
I shifted on his lap. It always got to me when he put on his stern-daddy face. His hands roved over my lap, passing lightly between my legs.
“You’re wound up, aren’t you?” he said in a softer voice. “You’re still buzzing.”
I buried my face against his neck, embarrassed. Yes, I was buzzing. Punishments hurt, but I liked being hurt. Price never offered any kind of satisfaction when I was being disciplined. But sometimes…after…
“You need a good fucking, don’t you?” He cupped my chin, stroking fingers across my cheekbone. “I bet you’d like me to shove my cock into your tight little pussy, your buzzy little pussy. I bet you’d like to come.”
“Yes, sir. I would like that.” A whimper escaped me. I pressed my lips to the spot just beneath his chin, breathing in the smell of him, exploring the hint of stubble.
He moved then, to nudge me off his lap and turn me toward the table. “Bend over,” he ordered.
I gripped the table’s edge as he yanked down my leggings, leaving them pooled around my ankles. Ohhhh. He shoved a finger into my pussy from behind, then another. I was embarrassingly wet. It was the warmth of him, the closeness, and now this brusque inspection, this force.
“Please, sir…” I twitched my hips as a fingertip strayed over my clit. “Oh, pleeease.”
“Calm down. Let me fuck around with you first.” He spanked my sore ass to get me dancing, though the leggings around my ankles provided convenient bondage. He flicked one of the cane tracks, making me jump. “I love to fuck with you, you little freak.”
I whimpered again at the sound of his jeans button popping open, the swish of his sweater going over his head and hitting the floor. I couldn’t help myself, I turned to look at him. Tall, golden, muscular, a Greek god with pale blue eyes and paler blond hair. My gaze fell to his cock, thick and long and scary-hard at this moment.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and turned me back around. I braced my feet on the floor as he pushed my dress up farther and yanked at my bra until he freed my tits. Rough, grasping hands posed me, pinched me, restrained me. I cried out as he twisted first one nipple, then the other. If he thought I was wet before…
I straightened, arching up toward him, seeking the pressure of him against my back. He shoved me down with a stream of expletives and snaked a hand up to my neck. I felt the fingers caress, then tighten.
“Oh. No. Please, I want…”
I didn’t know what I wanted or didn’t want. It didn’t matter anyway, because when my husband wanted to choke me out for his sadistic pleasure, he did it. His grip tightened another degree. I opened my hands against the table as he pinned me and stole my breath. The world faded to the sound of his whispers against my ear.
When I came to, he was balls deep in my pussy. My opened hands clenched into a fist at the delectable sensation of him pushing in, pulling out. I was so full of him. A moan erupted from my throat as he tugged at my hair.
Yes, I’m awake again. Please let me stay awake.
He’d let go of my neck, thank God, to grab my hips. I’d been trying to grind my clit against the edge of the table, but he wasn’t having it.
“No,” he growled. “You need to wait.”
I could have come right then. I wanted to come right then. I made a whining sound, halfway between a complaint and a please. He pulled out of me, and my whine ratcheted up in volume.
“Listen to you,” he said, taunting me. “You want it? If you want it so bad, come and get it.”
He stood behind me, his thick cock jutting out, pointed at my pussy but not in it. I pushed back against him, but he only let me have the tip.
“Please, no,” I begged. “Please just fuck me.”
“Come and get it, baby.”
He’d long since stripped away ninety-nine percent of my pride and dignity when it came to sex. The remaining one percent blushed as I was forced to fuck myself on his cock, pushing my hips back, seeking the invasion I needed to reach orgasm. If he wasn’t inside me, I wasn’t going to come. Such was the power of sexual training.
“That’s my girl,” he said, watching me with a glimmer in his gaze. “Shove your slutty wet pussy against me, you little bitch. You’d fuck yourself on anything right now. A wine bottle. A fucking cucumber.”
Yeah, I would have fucked a cucumber at this point, but I preferred fucking him. I needed to come so bad, and this rude objectification was only making me hornier. He finally took pity on me and pinned me back down on the table, driving into me with a massive thrust. It was enough to make me come, almost. My pussy squeezed around him. I was making those noises he pulled out of me, the noises I never made any other time in normal, civilized life.
“Come on then,” he said. He reached beneath me and pinched both my nipples in a brutal grip.
