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The feel of his hand still tightening, his fingertips digging into the sides of her neck. The pulsing throb of her swollen, punished ass. The matching throb in her pussy that desperately longed to be filled. The burn of her lungs the longer she went without taking a real breath.
It was too much, all way too much, and not nearly enough at the same time. Not when his cock still wasn’t buried deep inside her.
Her eyes flew open when at last Rafe released her throat. She drew in a ragged breath, and silvery-white dots danced before her eyes like tiny diamonds.
“Time to give your pussy what it wants, little girl.” He notched his cock into her slit.
“Please!” She was about to start legit begging if he didn’t fuck her right-the-fuck-now.
He rammed his hips forward, sliding all the way in with one hard stroke.
The sound that wrenched itself out of her throat was straight-up inhuman. How had she lived without this for over a year? Her body spasmed around his cock, clenching down on him, as if it was afraid of another thirteen-month drought.
“Your tight little pussy loves my cock, doesn’t it?” Rafe said, pulling almost all the way out before slamming in again.
All the breath left her as he slammed her against the center of the cross. “Please, Sir,” she gasped, her voice high and airy. “My pussy needs you so fucking bad. Fuck me as hard as you can. I’m begging you.”
With a wordless growl of approval, he began pounding into her to the beat of the music, the slap of his hips against her ass in perfect time with the low, thundering bass. As the tempo intensified, so did he, fucking her so fast and hard, every muscle in her body tied up in knots.
Oh God, she was so close. If he pulled away now, denying her yet again, she would fucking die.
But it would seem that, unlike her last Dom, Rafe’s sadism had its limits. Snaking an arm around her hip, Rafe found her clit with the pad of his middle finger. He rubbed in time with his thrusts, pushing exactly hard enough to send her flying over the edge.
Throwing her head back against his shoulder, Nell screamed so loudly it hurt her vocal cords. Her clenching pussy dragged him to completion seconds later. He bit the soft flesh where her neck met her shoulder as he shuddered behind her.
“So fucking good,” Rafe muttered when at last they were both still. “Welcome back, kitten.”
* * *
Nell kept as still as she possibly could, hardly even daring to breathe. As soon as she showered and dressed that morning, Rafe led her to a formal parlor, stripping her down to her lingerie and ordering her onto her hands and knees. Now he used her as a footstool while he drank coffee and tapped away at his laptop.
She was doing every single thing in her power to be perfect for him. No matter how the stiff threads of the old Persian rug dug into her bare knees and palms, or how much her back ached to bow beneath his boots.
Using her as furniture was one of the things Brian always refused to do, not understanding the kink himself, and generally only giving a shit about his own desires. It was Micah who first helped her experiment in forniphilia.
At first, it had been everything she dreamed of. Focusing one hundred percent of her mind and energy on a single, simple task—to stay as perfectly still as whatever inanimate object her Dom ordered her to become—was like her own personal form of meditation. And she was always wet as the Pacific by the time it was over.
But like all things with Micah, it only started out great. As time passed, and he grew more and more open with his cruelty, he began binding her into increasingly painful positions, far longer than was safe. If she dared complain, he’d gag and punish her, wielding a cane with enough force to draw blood.
Repressing a shudder, she closed her eyes and forced herself to focus on the moment. She was three thousand miles from L.A.—a whole-ass country away from Micah. And Rafe already checked in with her twice to make sure she was doing okay, even though she wasn’t restrained.
Before she could fully get back into the right mindset, though, the clacking of keys came to an abrupt halt, and Rafe settled his boots on the floor. “Kneel here,” he said, pointing beside his feet.
Nell scurried up into the required position, sitting back on her heels as she waited for further instruction. At first, Rafe didn’t look at her. Instead, he continued lounging on the antique sofa, legs spread wide, the laptop balanced between his thighs. He took the final few sips of his coffee as his eyes moved from side to side, scanning the screen one more time.
With a satisfied nod, he put his empty mug on a side table and spun the computer around, plopping it down on the blue velvet cushion. “Take a look,” he ordered.
She leaned forward, eyes widening as she took in the large, bold letters centered at the top of the page: Ways for Nell to Earn Orgasms.
“Um, yes please,” she said, giving him a flirty look through her eyelashes.
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Keep reading to the end and see if you still feel that way.”
Intrigued, Nell looked down at the computer screen.
Ways for Nell to Earn Orgasms
Henceforth, Rafe Erikson (the Dominant) will withhold all orgasms from Nell Beaumont (the submissive), unless she completes one or more of the tasks necessary to earn them.
