Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Ouch!”
“Mmm hmm.” He slaps the other cheek, then picks up his pace, alternating one cheek then the other. The man doesn’t know the definition of a light slap. Every time his palm connects with my flesh it sends shockwaves of sensation jolting through me. Pain mingled with pleasure. It’s too much, and yet I don’t want him to stop. I’m tragically enamored with my situation. He increases the intensity and speed another notch and I cry out. “Ouch! Hey!”
Yeah, now I want him to stop.
Definitely.
“You might remember the words I need to hear, bella.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I bit your finger, Stefano.”
He stops and spins me around. “Good girl. Quick learner.” Like before, he ends the punishment with a kiss. His lips crash down on mine and he bends me backward on the table, following me down. I have no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist and cradle his hips against mine. His cock presses hard and insistent against my panties, but he doesn’t rush. He kisses down my neck, yanks my bra down to scrape his teeth across my nipple.
I arch into him, grind my mons against the hard bulge in his pants. He draws my nipple into his mouth, sucks it until I feel the answering tug between my legs.
His movements are sure and confident, like he knows his way around a woman’s body, yet there’s also a crazy urgency, a passion behind every movement that carries me away. I can’t help but respond to his touch, like he’s the musician and my body’s the instrument. The music he makes with me intoxicates us both.
He moves to the neglected nipple, sucking, biting, blowing air across it. Hot hands slide up my thighs. I think he’s going to fuck me now. This time I’m not going to refuse.
But after he yanks my G-string down, he brings his face down to my pussy and licks into me. I cry out, my hips jacking up off the table. He holds them down and licks again, a long lick, from anus to clit.
Jesus. I didn’t know that would feel so good. I’ve never had attention paid to my anus—never wanted attention paid there, but Stefano’s unafraid.
He delves his tongue into my pussy, penetrating me, then shifts to suck my clit. He dips two fingers into me and curls them inside, rubbing my inner wall.
I tear at his hair, my juices flowing so freely I’m afraid they’ll leak out of me. This is all too much and yet my body sings, glories in his touch. His thumb slides in my entrance and another finger, wet from my pussy, pushes at my anus.
Once again, my hips fly off the table. He holds me down, re-affixing his lips to my clit, sucking the nubbin hard. He penetrates my asshole with a finger.
I’m mortified.
Exhilarated.
The sensations flow through me too quickly to process. My body belongs to him. I have no choice but to surrender, to let go and let him play me, his instrument. And he does.
Within moments, I’m orgasming—hard. When I scream, he covers my mouth with his hand, still pumping his fingers in and out of me. It’s miraculous and horrible. I’m undone.
And when it’s over, vulnerability and a pinch of shame rush in like an ocean tide. I choke back a sob against his palm.
* * *
Stefano
Oh fuck.
I release my hand from Corey’s mouth to see her face. She turns away from me, shoving her knuckles between her teeth. She’s crying. Or trying not to.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I was so sure she wanted it. Her body responded like I was its master. She never said no, never pushed me away.
My cockstand drops to nothing. I don’t get off on rape. At all.
I quickly pull her up to sit, tugging her panties back into place. “Cazzo, Corey.” I search her face, trying to decipher the tears. Was it just too much? Sometimes chicks cry after orgasm, especially a big one. Or did she feel forced?
I fucking hope not.
“Are you—” I don’t even know what I’m going to say, but she thumps me on my chest with her bound hands.
“Stop looking at me, Stefano.”
Relief washes over me. She’s okay. I can tell by the familiarity she uses—calling me by name, smacking my lapel. She wouldn’t do that if she were truly scared, truly felt forced. She’s raw from the orgasm and the fucked up situation, that’s all.
I cup the back of her neck with my clean hand and pull her against me. She hits my chest with her forehead and stays there, gulping and sniffing. I stroke my thumb along the tendrils of hair at her nape until her breath slows. Then I release her. “Sit tight,” I warn, pointing a bossy finger at her. “Don’t move or I’ll spank your ass again.”