“I would keep you, too,” I tell him, dashing at the tears on my face.
“Only because I spanked you.” There’s laughter in his voice. Teasing.
It makes me laugh-weep even harder. “Yeah,” I say. “That was fun.”
“I’m going to do it again, printsessa.”
“You are?” I pull his arms even tighter around me, like a security blanket I never want to let go of.
“Mmm hmm. You have a very spankable ass.”
I tug his hand down between my legs, needing to feel something different than this ache in my chest.
He cups my mons possessively and bites my neck. “Does this hot little body need some attention from me?”
I squirm against his hand trying to get more friction. “Yes,” I whimper.
He nudges me off the window ledge and drops down beside me. “Bend over the bed, little girl.”
I do as I'm told, folding at the waist and putting my hands down on the small cot. Presenting my ass to him.
He gives it a gentle slap, and I wiggle for more. He slaps a few more times then flips my short skirt up and pulls my panties down to mid thigh. I'm instantly soaking wet.
“Is this what you need,” Adrian asks. “You need this cute little ass spanked?”
I love how he always asks for consent, even as he’s being masterful. It makes me feel safe.
“Yes,” I affirm. I don't know why I need it. Delaney would try to heal me of this sordid craving, but I don’t want to be fixed. I absolutely love it. And Adrian does it just right. He is my hero even though he's dressed in villain's clothing. I want him to keep me. I want to be his little punished slave girl. Or whatever he wants me to be so long as he's doing his dominant thing.
He rubs my ass then grips it with both hands and plants a kiss on one cheek. “You’re not too sore from earlier?”
I am a little sore, but I love feeling well-used by him. I love remembering how completely owned he made me feel. Not degraded–although I’m into that, too–just fully claimed.
“No,” I say. “I want it.”
“You want me to pound you with my big, hard cock?”
Ooh, he does dirty talk so well.
“Yes,” I whimper, giving my ass another waggle.
He spanks me some more, warming my ass up with firm, stingy slaps. By the time I hear the crackle of the condom wrapper, I’m desperate for him.
I shimmy out of my panties and widen my stance.
“Beautiful girl,” he murmurs, stroking a hand down my hip.
I register the soft-firm touch of his cock against my entrance, and I push back to take him.
“You going to take my cock like a good girl?” Despite the dommy words, he eases into me.
“Yes, sir.”
He starts up a rhythm, slowly gaining in tempo. “On your knees,” he orders in a guttural tone when it’s time for a change. I climb onto the bed on my hands and knees, and he continues in that position, gathering my braids and tugging them back. “You like have your hair pulled?”
I don’t like the actual feeling in my scalp, but I like him controlling me. Like feeling a little forced, even though I know I’m safe with him.
“Yes,” I pant.
He tugs a little harder, bringing my head back and forcing me to arch my back. “That’s so pretty, malyshka,” he says, and butterflies take flight in my belly. Pleasing him pleases me. “You’re so wet, my Kit-Kat.”
He remembered my nickname! I’d told it to him on the first night.
Also, he called me his.
Warmth wraps around me like a blanket. And then I’m too hot. Too needy.
“On your back,” Adrian commands, in tune with my need for a change in position.
I roll to my back, even though missionary isn’t my favorite position. Not to worry, he quickly makes it work for me by wrapping a large hand around my throat. He doesn’t squeeze at all, just holds my throat, showing me he could choke me if he wanted.
His lids are heavy, lips are parted. He shoves into me with punctuated, hard thrusts that make sounds rocket from my throat. If he weren’t holding onto my throat, he’d drive my body up, and my head would bump into the wall. I’m his captive. Literally and sexually.
Funny how I’ve never felt so free.
So unbuttoned. So met. Accepted. Bridged.
This man is my match.
If only I could keep him from getting himself killed.
I surrender completely to the sensations–the pleasure of Adrian moving inside me. The intensity of our position, the sight of his muscles straining in his chest and arms, the way his teeth clench around his ragged breath.
“Adrian,” I moan, and his gaze snaps to my face, almost in alarm. Like me calling his name during sex was the same as telling him I was falling for him.