“Mmm,” he rumbles. “Excited, songbird?”
I jerk and tremble under his touch, my entire being vibrating with excitement, my body tuned perfectly to his particular brand of sex.
“Yeah.” I speak without thinking, but it works perfectly to get more of what I need.
Tony tsks and whirls me around, propping my bound hands on the dresser/TV stand. “What did I tell you about talking?” His voice is rough masculine sex. Dirty, growly, gravelly. It makes me think of bull riders and mafia dons. His hand crashes down on my ass and I yelp.
“Shh.” He immediately rubs my offended cheek, soothing away the sting. “No whimpering either, songbird. Do I need to find you a gag?”
I shake my head.
“Good girl. Push your ass back for your spanking. If it’s too much, kick me with your foot. Otherwise I’m gonna give you what I think you need. Capiche?”
I’m smiling down at the dresser. Capiche, I answer in my head. No, that’s probably not how it’s conjugat—ouch!
He slaps me again, on the other cheek this time, then rubs again. It’s delicious. My pussy’s so wet, I leak moisture onto my inner thighs. He picks up his pace, slapping many times, alternating right and left cheeks.
I shift from foot to foot, holding my breath, trying not to cry out.
“Spread ‘em,” he commands.
I open my legs, knowing what it means. Yep. A nicely placed slap, right between my legs. My clit screams. Sings. Hums. He slaps my pussy again. Twice more.
I stamp my feet, not from the pain, but from the urgency to come. The need for much more than a slap between my legs. I’ve never experienced the sensation of emptiness with a man before. Of craving penetration. With a cock. It’s like nothing else will do.
But Tony’s got his own plan. He returns to spanking my ass until it’s hot and stingy. Then he spins me around and picks me up by the waist, plopping my bare ass on top of the dresser.
He pulls my panties off my legs where they were tangled, still. “Open wide, baby. I need to taste your sweet little cunt again.”
I’m pretty sure my face gets hot, but I do as he says, spreading my knees wide. He slides his hands under my thighs and pulls my ass right to the edge of the dresser. The moment his tongue licks into me, I shriek.
He lifts his head and sends me a stern look. “No. Noises. Squeal again and I’ll give it to you hard in the ass, understand?”
My pelvic floor lifts and squeezes, thrills of excitement fluttering through me.
He spreads my labia with his thumbs and takes his time—way too much time—tracing the insides. I shiver and pant, bite back my moans.
He sucks my clit. I bring my bound hands to his head, wrap my fingers in his hair and pull.
He chuckles against me and lifts his head, his lips glossy with my juices. Holding my gaze, he slides two fingers inside me.
My hips pop and I take him deeper. He pinches my nipple with his free hand as his fingers stroke my inner wall, making me crazy. My legs shoot out straight, shake, kick. My belly flutters and trembles. He pumps harder, his knuckles bumping my entrance, his fingers driving me wild inside.
“Please!” I babble. “P-please.”
He releases my nipple and catches my nape, pulling my face to his. “Quiet,” he growls and mashes his lips over mine. I come, screaming into his mouth, shoving myself over his fingers, my inner thighs squeezing his wrist like I want to break it.
He keeps his knuckles buried in me, still stroking slowly as my muscles clench and release around him.
So that’s what an orgasm is like. I know he’s made me come before, but it suddenly no longer seems like just a fluke. In fact, it seems much clearer how it works. How easy and wonderful it can be.
Why did I ever think it was complicated and hard?
Tony keeps kissing me, and as my orgasm passes, I melt into it, slipping my tongue between his lips, receiving his. He kisses and kisses, like he’s trying to devour me, and I’m engulfed by the sensation of belonging. Of being. Like I’m my true essence, which he completely accepts. Totally receives. And he returns to me his true essence. Not a mafia enforcer. Not a broken, soulless man. But someone capable of meeting me here. In this place. Where we just are.
It doesn’t make sense, and yet I don’t need it to. I’m going to write songs about it, and explore it for many albums to come. I’ve discovered something here. Something essentially human. Something about intimacy and life.
Something about joy.
Tony slips his fingers out and picks me up, straddling his waist. He carries me to the bed and drops me down on my back.