“Beg me, Sophie. Out loud.” He pushed my hand away and parted his fly, pulling his penis from his boxer briefs. He held it in front of my face with one hand, the head tantalizingly close. He had to feel my rushed breathing against his skin. He had to know that a simple flick of my tongue over my lips would wet us both.
“Beg to suck my cock.”
My body was already pleading with him. My gaze transfixed on the object of my desire, I whispered. “Please, Sir. Please let me suck your cock.”
He took a step back. That simple scrape of his shoe against the marble, the shushing threat of denial, broke me. I threw myself forward, clinging to him, rasping, “Please!”
His laugh held a dark potential that shivered through me. Every time we were together like this, even if we did things we’d done a hundred times before, it felt like something new and dangerous.
“I was only teasing,” he said, sinking his hands in the hair at the back of my head. He gripped it close to my scalp, pulling without hurting. “You don’t think I would withhold on our wedding night?”
“I don’t know, Sir.” My lips were so close to the head of his cock that my lips brushed it when I spoke.
He tightened his grasp on my hair and forced his erection into my mouth. Though not much force was required. I opened, obedient and hungry to please him, and moaned in relief when he hit the back of my throat. He jerked my head back by my hair then slammed me forward again. I gagged and sputtered, and my thighs clenched. I wanted to touch myself so badly, but it wasn’t like I could ask with ten inches of cock rammed down my throat. So, I whimpered and rocked and hoped he would understand my frustrated noises.
And, like the sexual psychic that he is, he ordered, “Touch yourself, Sophie.”
I wriggled my thighs apart and reached eagerly between, rubbing my clit with two fingers while he fucked my face. My throat would be sore in the morning.
He reached down with his free hand to stroke his fingers down my jaw. “Look at you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so beautiful as you do now.”
My stomach fluttered. I could think of a thousand times I probably looked more beautiful—the exhaustion of our wedding day was certainly not doing anything for my under-eye situation—but I knew exactly how he felt. This wasn’t the most daring we’d ever been together. He wasn’t out to shock me tonight. But everything felt different. The weight of the collar around my neck was nothing compared to the weight of the words inscribed inside it. I truly did belong to him. Now that it was official, I saw that with deeper clarity. I was meant to be with him. From that first, shuddering orgasm he’d given me as I’d lain over his lap in a hotel room eight years ago to the moment we’d stepped into this building, he’d been my Dom. I just hadn’t realized it back then. I hadn’t even consciously known that it was something I would want; I’d just naively asked him to spank me.
Approaching him in that airport had been the first impulsive thing I’d done in my adult life, and it was the best decision I’d ever made.
My fingers sped up, and I gasped around his cock as his thrusts gained speed. My shoulders tensed, and I rose up a bit on my knees. I heard Sir admonish, “Sophie, do not come!” but it was far too late to stop. I moaned in relief and dismay. I was never, ever supposed to come without his permission, and definitely not against his direct orders.
He pulled out, and a torrent of drool burbled out of my mouth. I gulped down air and accidentally sw
allowed spit, coughed, and covered my mouth.
“Are you all right?” Neil asked as he tucked himself away and zipped his fly.
I met his eyes and nodded, dropping the pretense as he had for the moment. “I’m fine.”
“You won’t be when I’m done with you,” he warned. “Stand up.”
Unsteady on my legs, as they had fallen asleep, I was a little slow getting up. He grabbed me and hauled me over to the bed, pushing me off my feet and onto the silk duvet. He grabbed the front of my bra and jerked it hard. I spent major money to get quality lingerie, so it took some force to wreck the hook and eye closures on the back, but the whole thing flew off to land, ruined, on the bed beside me.
I should have specified no ripping tonight. I really liked that bra.
“Take off those panties,” he ordered, and, wanting to preserve them, I moved fast to do as I was told. I pushed them down my legs, and he caught them at my knees, whipping them down the rest of the way and throwing them to the floor.
“Stay put.” The cuffs of his shirt were already unfastened, and he popped each button down his shirtfront one-handed as he gazed down at me. “Did you ask for permission to come?”
“No, Sir.” I watched his hand as it traveled down his chest. Silver and dark curls of hair covered the skin revealed with each undone button.
“Normally, I would say that you deserved some denial-based punishment.” He tossed the shirt to the floor. He kicked his shoes off. “But, in the interest of brevity, I think it will have to be a spanking tonight.”
The low light gleamed on his shoulders, his biceps, his arms. My gaze fell to his hands, his big hands that could grab me and restrain me and dig into my flesh in unbridled possession, and I grew wetter.
He sat beside me on the bed, and I moved to lie over his lap, but he stopped me and slid back to recline on the pillows. “Come here.”
I got to my knees on the bed and crawled toward him. This time, I didn’t presume. I let him position me between his legs, so that I lay back against his chest. He hooked my legs over his and spread them then placed a hand on the inside of each of my thighs.
Oh, a spanking. I understood now.
He cupped my mound in one hand, massaging my aroused body with tenderness that mocked the pain he would inflict soon. With one hand tucked between my leg and my body, his thumb spread to stroke over my hipbone. “Who does this belong to?”