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Dammit. While he hadn’t had to follow through, every time he talked about spanking her ass or withholding her orgasms or tying her hands, arousal soaked her panties.
He held the jet steady, pummeling her clit until Liza’s body began to tremble, the telltale sign that her first orgasm was imminent.
She’d started numbering her orgasms in her head with Matt. With past lovers, that wasn’t necessary because she rarely passed the number one. Hell, sometimes she didn’t even make it that far.
With Matt, she counted them, coveted each and every one. Maybe she’d remind him that his personal best was six orgasms in one night—just to see if he’d rise to the challenge and try to break the record.
The current orgasm record had been set their last night in Hawaii, when everything between them was brand spanking new, and shit like having to get up early for work hadn’t been a concern.
“Matt,” she gasped, her head falling back, her eyes shutting when he moved the showerhead closer, the water hitting harder.
“You know better than that,” he chastised. “Eyes open.”
His demand was a common one. Matt always wanted her looking at him when she came. She didn’t ask why because she didn’t need to. She felt the power of that connection as keenly as he did.
She looked into his deep brown eyes and saw his intense determination that in any other situation would actually be frightening.
“Come for me.” As he spoke, he pressed two fingers inside her pussy, the jets of water still pounding hard against her clit.
His words freed her, sent her to that magical place where everything was perfect, where stress, fear, and self-doubt didn’t exist. Where it was only her and him and that happiness seeping out of every pore.
The second Liza’s climax subsided, Matt returned the showerhead to its cradle, gripping her hips to turn her away from him. His chest pressed firmly against her back, pushing until her entire front was flush against the warm tiles.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he murmured, his lips next to her ear. “Keep your hands flat against the wall and hold on.”
Her hands were already there, and she had no intention of lowering them. She was going to need them to protect herself from being crushed against the wall.
Matt nipped at her earlobe, his lips traveling along the side of her neck. He lifted one hand, wrapping it around her throat—not tightly but in a way that teased of danger. She’d discovered that along with her desire to submit, Liza liked her sex with a darker edge, turned on by Matt’s touches that felt as threatening as they did arousing. He’d never physically hurt her, but he had pushed her limits, drawing out more and more of her kinks with each encounter. One night, she’d confessed that the way he—for lack of a better term—manhandled her in bed was a huge turn-on.
That confession appeared to be the green light Matt had been looking for because since then, he’d taken off the kid gloves, making sure she felt his strength, his control as he put her where he wanted and kept her there.
Like now, as he placed his hand around her throat, his thumb lightly stroking her pulse point reminding her that right here, right now, he held all the power.
“You’re mine.”
Every time he said those words, she melted inside.
“I own every inch of you, Liza Moretti.” His deep tone was menacing, the words sounding almost like a threat, even though they were the truth.
She was his. Completely.
“Your body,” Matt continued. “Your kisses. Your orgasms. Even the air you breathe.” Matt applied a bit more pressure to her throat. Not enough to cut off her air. Just enough to flip the switch on the part of her brain that said this was the hottest moment of her life.
“Please,” she whispered.
Matt tightened his grip the tiniest bit more. “Beg me.”
“Please, Matt. Please fuck me!”
Too many nights, Matt had drawn the foreplay out for so long Liza thought she’d lose her mind. This wasn’t going to be one of those nights. Thank God.
Matt gripped her hips, pulling her away from the wall until she was bent at the waist. He lost no time lining up his cock with her opening and slamming in. Liza’s second orgasm struck three thrusts later, but Matt fucked his way through that one, pounding harder with each re-entry—and her third.
Liza’s legs turned to jelly, Matt supporting more of her weight than she was. His grip on her hips was unyielding, firm, as he beat a brutally beautiful rhythm inside her oversensitive pussy.
“God,” she called out hoarsely. Her voice was all but gone after the pleading and screaming. “I can’t?—”
“You can!” Matt barked, cutting her off. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, using it to pull her body upright. He never stopped fucking her as he pushed her forward until her chest was once again flat against the tiles. Matt’s fingers tightened around her hair, her scalp stinging, setting off a nuclear reaction in every single one of her nerve endings.
