Carson (Dangerous Doms 4)

“Carson,” she begins. “I’m still not comfortable… not with the lights on… I don’t want you to see me. Oh God, I’m all curves and dimples and fat.”

Oh hell no.

I shake my head and reach for my belt. Tonight, I’ll let the slap of the belt do the talking for me. She won’t be allowed to cower in the darkness with me, to push me away, or refuse to become vulnerable and honest. I won’t let her. I won’t allow it.

Her eyes widen when I draw my leather belt through the loops. I easily arrange her limbs. Feet on the floor, her belly pressed up against the edge of the bed. A tempting sight for sure.

“Carson,” she whispers in a panic, her wide eyes giving her away. “What are you… why are you…”

I tug down the little pajama bottoms and bare her full, heart-shaped ass.

“What did I tell you?” I ask, my voice harsh and demanding. She may be turned on after this whipping. Hlell, I hope she is, but I’m not playing.

I press my palm to her lower back, holding her in place, then swing the folded leather through the air. It whistles and lands with a satisfying whomp on her bare skin. She yelps and grips the duvet. I give her a second hard lash of the belt, then a third, crisscrossing the leather on her naked skin. Small, bright pink welts rise, making my dick even harder.

“I know, I know,” she moans, wriggling beneath the onslaught of hard, punishing smacks. “Don’t say anything about my body, nothing self-deprecating, but honest to God—”

Another hard lash lands.

“Honest to God what?” I ask, poised, ready to spank her again.

“You make it sound like can I just push an off button and make my insecurities go away.”

“Nope.” Another hard crack of the belt. “But you will obey me, Megan.”

She moans and presses her cheek to the duvet when I spank her again.

“Touch yourself. Glide your fingers to your clit and touch yourself.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sensitive,” she says. “You just made me come, you know.”

That was only round one.

I squeeze her arse cheek. “Do it.”

She lifts her hips and slides her fingers to the apex of her thighs. She moans when she finds her sweet spot. I glide the folded leather over her thighs, over her arse, to her lower back, then back down lower still.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, dropping the belt and bending to place kisses along her heated skin. “So fucking gorgeous. And I want you to know that. I want you to feel that. I want you to believe it.”

She whimpers, her hand moving faster between her legs. My cock aches for release.

“If I hear you say things like that again, you’ll earn my strap. And if I don’t see a change, you’ll earn my cane. The cane is far harsher than even my belt. It’ll be nothing like the little spanks I gave your pussy. Do you understand me?”

She nods. “Yes,” she breathes. “Yes, sir.”

I unfasten my trousers and glide my thick, swollen cock out. I thrust up against her, relishing the way her flaming skin feels against my hardened length. I slide a condom on.

“I want to take you,” I say, pressing my tip to her opening. “Right here, love. Right now.” I want to fuck her tight, gorgeous arse, but we’ll work up to that.

She shivers and nods. “Yes, sir.”

I close my eyes in bliss when I glide my cock into her tight, hot cunt.

“Mother of God,” I groan. “Jesus, woman, you feel fucking amazing.”

She moans, her fingers tightening on the duvet. “You feel,” she pants. “You feel pretty damn good yourself, you know.”

I build a rhythm, rocking my hips, my cock sliding fully in then nearly all the way out again. Every time I take myself out, she holds her breath, then every time I ease back in she moans in pleasure.

Grá mo Chroí.

Love of my heart.

I love you.

I can’t possibly say those words out loud, and I wonder even where they came from. Am I that entranced in the heat of the moment? That needy for her hot, tight pussy milking my cock?

Or is it something more? Something deeper?

My need builds as I thrust in and out, my hands gripping her hips so hard, my fingers leave marks. “I love the way you feel,” I whisper, lowering my body to hers, my mouth at her ear, while we move together as one. “I love the way you respond.”

It’s a copout, telling her all the ways I love her without saying the actual words.

“I love your body, every fucking dimple and curve and slope and valley.” I thrust again, this time harder, so she whimpers and squirms in excitement. “I love who you are and who you’re becoming.” Jesus, God, I love everything about her. Heat rises in my chest, and her breathing hitches.