“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she gasped, clenching her ass. “I’m going to come soon. I can’t stop it.”
“Come on,” he said. “I want it.”
The clamps jerked on her nipples. Her arms strained against the cuffs and the leather strap holding her down, and then her body fell into a climax ten times stronger than the previous one. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but ride out the waves that engulfed her.
“God, yes.” Rubio groaned as she pulsed around his thrusting cock. He said more things, low, in Portuguese, as he surged deep inside her, as deep as he could go. Then he tensed and held, jerking through a series of tremors. At last, he came to rest.
“Oh baby,” he whispered, falling down over her. “You’re such a good girl. But…I think now…no more virgin asshole.”
She laughed weakly. “No. No more virgin asshole, for sure.”
He stroked her shoulder, licked her jaw and her neck while her ass squeezed his cock in intermittent aftershocks. “That was crazy,” he said after a while. “Just crazy.”
She shifted in her bonds. She needed to hold him and touch him, and be close to the man who’d done this intimate, amazing act to her. “Ruby, let me go. Let me see you. I want to see you.”
He started to work at her restraints, releasing the clamps and cuffs, and undoing the strap at her waist. When she reached out, he caught her and dragged her against his chest. She flung her arms around his neck, clinging to him. The blindfold came off last, and she blinked in the dim dungeon to find him watching her with a combination of amusement and dread.
“You okay?” he asked. “You survived?”
Had she survived? This time, perhaps, but what about next time? It seemed he could make her do just about anything, which was a dangerous talent to have. What would the next “ten minute” session bring? What if he stretched it to an hour? A day? A week? Her entire life? She couldn’t bear to think about it.
She couldn’t bear to think about anything beyond this moment, beyond his arms around her, cradling her, and the look in his eyes that said wow and oh, man and good girl, all at the same time.
“I think I mostly survived it,” she said. “This time.”
His lips spread in a slow smile, and she knew he was already making plans for next time. Which was completely, perfectly fine with her.
Chapter Fourteen: Is Good
Petra jerked awake to a muttered merda and a hand clamped around her wrist. “Crazy girl,” Rubio grunted. “Watch your port de bras.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“You’re dancing in your sleep.” He loosened his grip on her wrist and slid a hand up her arm. His eyes shone in the dim morning light. “Are you finished, or you’re going to kick me again?”
“I didn’t kick you.”
“You kicked me. You whack me on the side of my head all the time.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, even though he wasn’t really angry.
He brushed her hair back with a sleepy smile. “It’s okay. Is funny but painful. Maybe I’ll start tying you at night, huh? Tie you to the branches of the bed?”
She snuggled into his embrace, feeling all melty at the erotic threat. “But then you could do whatever you wanted to me and I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”
“Mmm.” He kissed the side of her neck, then ran his tongue up to the underside of her chin. His arms were iron bands around her, firm and secure. “I think I like the sound of that,” he said.
And I think I love you, she thought. I’m really afraid I do.
“I’m sorry I kicked you,” she said aloud. “Maybe I can make it better.” She slid under the sheets to caress his muscular legs. She kissed his bronze skin, licking over the ticklish texture of his leg hairs. “Is that helping?”
“Ah. Yes. Is better. But somewhere else is hurting.” With a mischievous grin he pumped his rigid cock. “Could use some kisses to make it all better.”
She grinned. “Just kisses?”
With a grunt, he manipulated her until her face was in his crotch and her ass was stuck in the air. “Ah, that’s right,” he said, stroking fingertips down her thigh. “Arch your back. Make it pretty for me.”
Petra licked her lips, feeling loose and sensual at his softly spoken words. She kissed the tip of his cock, reveling in his halting intake of breath.
“Is good?” she teased, looking up at him.
He gave her ass a lazy slap. “Yes, is good.” He reached lower to tangle his fingers through her hair and push her lips down onto his length. “Get busy. Suck me, you hungry little slut.”
There was a time when “you hungry little slut” would have infuriated her. When she would have punched someone in the face over it. Now, it excited her. It made her feel sexy and submissive. His fingers tightened, gripping the back of her neck.
“Deeper,” he said. “Open that mouth.”
She strained to draw him farther into her throat. They’d done some experimenting with deep throating but she wasn’t great at it yet. She always gagged like crazy, which Rubio openly enjoyed. At least they didn’t have to use condoms anymore, except for vaginal sex, as a backup method.
“Yes, good girl,” he said when she coughed and sputtered. “I love when you choke on it.”
The “love” was guttural, vicious and forceful. She’d come to live for these Rubio endearments. I love when you choke on it. I want to hurt you. I love how you cry when I hurt you.
You’re so beautiful when you come.
His fingers trailed over her ass cheeks, then down to probe between her legs. “Open,” he said. “Let me look at your pussy.”
The old Petra never, ever would have obeyed such an order. The new Petra squirmed sideways to comply. In the last few weeks he’d explored every inch of her, inside and out. Not just explored it. Taken possession of it. His fingers toyed through the moisture between her legs as she licked around his erection. Every so often he’d flick her clit just to make her buck.
“You know,” he said in a low voice, “under my bed at home, I keep a pretty Plexiglas cane. It hurts so much. Maybe someday I’ll use it to mark you right here.”
He pressed his palm against her pussy and she moaned. A pretty Plexiglas cane sounded agonizing, especially between her legs. He slapped her and then drove two fingers inside her wet sheath, forcing her to arch her ass up.
His cock was so solid, so velvety and thick. She sucked the tip like a lollipop and then opened her throat for him to slide deep. She gagged a moment later, hacked out a cough and pulled back for air. With a chuckle, he fisted his balls and nudged her head down to lick them. “Into your mouth,” he prompted. “Suck them nice.”
She burrowed her face between his legs, breathing in his musky male scent. As she tongued and teased him, his laptop chirped on the ta
ble across the room. “Jesus,” he groaned. “Bad timing.”
A moment later, a ring-notification sounded. He sighed. “Is my mother calling. I told her to call today.” He squeezed Petra’s shoulder, drawing her away from her task. “Don’t go anywhere. We’ll finish this very soon.”
He slid off the bed and loped over to the table. He slid a finger over his touchpad. “Mãe, um momento.” He walked back to Petra with an apologetic look. “I haven’t been calling home,” he said, pulling on a pair of shorts. “Too busy with other things.”
“Like dancing?” Petra asked, deadpan.
He tugged a black tee over his head. “Dancing and fucking you,” he said softly, in his throaty lilt.
His voice alone could take her halfway to orgasm. Something of her thoughts must have shown in her face because he said, “Don’t look at me like that. Not right before I talk to my mother.” He kissed her forehead, then went back over to his laptop. It was angled away from the bed, toward the window, so it was safe for Petra to get up and get dressed. She pulled faces at Rubio across the room, doing an impromptu bump-and-grind. He wagged a finger at her, talking all the while to his mother in rapid-fire syllables she couldn’t understand.
She shouldn’t hover around and distract him. She didn’t know how much his mother knew about his personal life, or whether she knew about her. Did she know they slept together every night? She probably knew they danced together. Petra went into the bathroom to brush her teeth, listening to Rubio chatter in Portuguese. It sounded impossibly sexy, his native tongue. He went from animated to quiet and back to animated, sometimes asking his mom questions. She didn’t know the words but she could sense his fondness for his mother, and his concern.
He was a good son. She’d read something once in some women’s magazine, about how to tell a good man from a bad one. One of the indicators was how well a man treated his mother. She knew his mother had had a hard life and that he tried to take care of her now. She knew that he sent her money so his mother never had to go without, and he’d bought her a new house and a new life. She deserves it, he told her once. She went through so much.