He quickened his thrusts, unable to hold back any longer. As he moved, he smacked her again and again. Her cunt was hot to the touch, swollen and slippery with her juices. He couldn’t decide if he would come in her mouth or in her cunt.
The last bit of his brain still functioning warned him it was irresponsible to come in her mouth her first time out. She might choke, and his primary role as her Dom was to keep her safe.
But before he could reposition himself on top of her, his cock betrayed him, the jism shooting upward from his balls. He gave her a last hard swat as he yanked his shaft from her mouth. A second later, he came with a cry, shooting his load over her chest and breasts.
He pushed her gently forward on the mattress so her head no longer hung over the edge. Then he collapsed facedown beside her, his head at her feet. His heart was pounding in his ears, his breath still coming fast from the powerful climax.
After a minute or so, he forced himself up on his elbows as he tried to clear his head. He started to reach for one of her legs to release her, but then had a better idea.
Rolling over, he positioned himself between her spread legs. Placing his hands on her thighs, he dipped his head toward her sticky-sweet cunt. It was reddened and swollen from the cunt spanking, and hot to the touch.
He drew his tongue lightly over her outer labia. She shuddered and sighed as he licked along the inner folds of her sex. He moved in a teasing circle around her distended clit until she was panting.
Relenting at last, he flicked rapidly at the hard nubbin with the tip of his tongue until she began to keen—a high, wailing cry of pure animal release. He didn’t stop until her cries deepened into raw, rasping moans. Finally, she stilled, going limp.
He let her go, falling back beside her, his face wet with her juices. Her failure to ask permission was added to the transgressions list.
It took him a moment to notice she was trembling again, her entire body now shaking. She was crying.
Alarmed, he quickly slipped the bonds from her ankles and shifted on the bed until they were face to face.
“Baby, what is it?” He released her wrists and gathered her into his arms.
She buried her face against his chest, sobbing in earnest now.
Had he gone too far, too fast? Had he been too rough? Was the butt plug hurting her?
He stroked her hair as he murmured soothing sounds. After a while, her cries quieted, her body relaxing against his. Finally, she lifted her tear-stained face to his and managed a lopsided smile.
“Gosh, I have no idea why I’m crying,” she said with a hiccupping laugh.
He sighed with relief. “Sensory overload,” he said, smoothing the tumble of her hair from her face and wiping away the tears with his thumb. “It’s all good. You’re fine. Just fine.” He rocked her gently in his arms. “Once you catch your breath, we’ll remove the plug and get you cleaned up.”
She pulled away abruptly and sat up, a determined look on her face. “I’m ready right now,” she asserted. “The sooner the better. Sir.”
He laughed, amused by her sudden recovery. “All right.” He rolled from the bed and held out his hand to her. “Let’s go wash up and then we’ll hit the sack. I’ve got a busy day planned for tomorrow. You’re going to need your rest.”
Chapter 22
Dahlia awoke with a start, her heart racing. It took her several long moments to calm down, the nightmare that had woken her still clinging to her like a heavy, suffocating fog. She’d been trapped in a small space, her wrists and ankles bound, a noose around her neck. She’d been unable to open her eyes, as if they’d been sealed shut. Something had been advancing on her—something dark and dangerous. When she’d opened her mouth to scream, she’d realized her tongue had been cut out.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered to herself, willing the nightmare away. Her hand moved to the collar still around her neck. She briefly considered unbuckling the damn thing, but didn’t quite dare. Instead, she drew in several calming breaths, letting them out slowly as the nightmare’s hold fell away.
Hayden was fast asleep beside her. He was facing her, his arm slung over her midriff, his mouth slightly agape. She glanced toward the window across from the bed. The pale light of predawn seeped around the edges of the blinds.
Her bladder was uncomfortably full. Was she allowed to get up to pee? Was she supposed to wake him to ask for permission?
She hated to disturb him. She’d just slip out to use the bathroom and return to the bed. He would be none the wiser.