Dead Man's Hand (Vegas Underground 7)
She cups her own breasts. My dirty talk has thrown her over the edge into full on sexual excitement. I get the feeling it’s unknown territory for her, and I fucking love how brave she is.
“Let’s get this off for starters.” I pull her t-shirt over her head.
She reaches to unbutton her jeans.
I catch her hands. “Uh uh. Did I say remove your pants?”
She stops, confused.
“Maybe I want them on.” I can’t think of any good reason to keep them on at the moment, but I feel like calling all the shots. I’m so done with pussy-footing around this girl. If she wants my touch, she’d better fucking submit.
“Bra off,” I order.
She unhooks it and slides it off her arms. I cup both her breasts and pinch the nipples.
“What did I tell you about these breasts?”
“Um… I don’t know.”
I slap her pussy, then return to rolling the nipples between my forefingers and thumb. “I said they’re perfect. Now you say it.”
“Oh, Jesus, Gio.”
“Say it, babygirl. You already have a punishment coming.”
“For what?”
“You know what for.”
She gulps as I rub the seam of her jeans against her clit again. “They’re perfect,” she mumbles.
“Louder. Say my tits are fucking perfect. Loud and proud, baby.”
“Oh my God, Gio. You’re nuts.”
I pinch both nipples tight and hold. Bite her shoulder. “Say it.”
“My tits are fucking perfect!” she squeals.
I release her nipples and she mewls.
I push her up to stand. “Bend over the table, baby.”
She shoots me a nervous look over her shoulder but turns back to the table and slides her fingertips over the surface until her bare breasts are flattened against the glass.
“Now that’s a pretty sight.” I stand up and unbuckle my belt. She shoots another nervous glance over her shoulder.
“I’ll let you keep your jeans on for your spanking, pretty girl. I wouldn’t want to leave marks.”
She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and turns back to face the table. I can see her reflection in the glass. She’s excited.
“Spread your legs.” I nudge her feet wider.
I wrap the buckle end of my belt around my fist and try it out on my leg. I’m just playing— I definitely don’t want to hurt Marissa.
Tempering the strokes, I let the belt swing, careful not to let the tail wrap around her hip.
She gasps.
I rub all over her ass, rub between her legs, squeeze. “You okay, baby?”
“Yes, please.”
I laugh. “Please, huh? That mean you want more?”
“Um, yes? I think so.”
“Tip your ass back and show me you’re gonna be a good girl for your spanking.”
She does and I deliver five quick stripes. I don’t go heavy, but enough that she’ll feel a little sting, even through the jeans.
When I stop and rub, she hums in appreciation.
I reach around the front and unbutton her jeans, then shimmy them, along with her panties, down her legs. She kicks off her sneakers so I can get them off her feet. Then I slide my chair around behind her, push her ass open and lick her from behind.
Her pussy squeezes and ass clenches at the contact of my tongue with her sensitive lips. She shivers and trembles as I lick her from clit to anus and back again.
“Was this what you were hoping for when you said, yes, please?”
“Um, yes,” she whimpers.
“You like the way I own your body, doll?”
“Yeah.”
“Even though you kneed me in the balls for it?”
“I’m sorry,” she pants. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Tell me, angel.” I stand to penetrate her with a finger. “What is it you’re so afraid of?” I pump my finger inside her. “The way I make you feel? Or something you think I’m gonna do to you that you won’t like?”
“I-I don’t know,” she gasps.
I pump faster, then stop to add a second finger and pump again. “No, baby. I’m not accepting that answer.” I keep pumping.
Her breath shudders, inner thighs tremble. She’s close to coming just from my fingers.
“Tell me the fucking truth, Marissa.” I push my thumb over the pucker of her asshole and rub.
Her pelvis jerks. She doesn’t answer.
I pull my fingers out and slap her bare ass with a resounding crack.
“A-aah!”
“You want me to let you come, angel?”
She whimpers.
I slap her again. “Answer me with words.”
“Yes, please.”
“Then answer my question.”
“It’s not… I’m afraid because…”
I slap her again when she doesn’t finish.
“Because you’re a Tacone.”
I wrap my fingers her in hair and tug her head up, lower mine to meet it. “So what?”
“So… you’re dangerous.”
I ignore the screwdriver that just rammed through my ribs. I push her hair back from her face so she can look into my eyes when I ask, “Dangerous to you?”
She blinks.
“Answer me,” I murmur. “Am I dangerous to you, Marissa?”
After a moment, she tries to shake her head, which, of course, doesn’t work because I’m holding her hair. “No,” she whispers.
I release her hair. “No.” I step back and slap her ass again. “I’m gonna take care of you, Marissa. I told you that.”