Bound to You by Bethany Kane Page A

he was retrieving his cane.
    “You’ve been such a trial to punish that you’ve made my cock hard enough to pound nails,” he murmured a moment later as he ran the cane over the curve of her bottom.
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her tongue ran over her lower lip anxiously. “You could . . . you could make me suck it.”
    “Jennifer,” he growled warningly, sounding very John-like versus Sir-like. He gave her ass a little pop with the cane. “Get ready to receive your last stroke. Are you ready?”
    “Yes,” she panted.
    It was difficult to draw breath, her anticipation and arousal were so sharp. He caressed her bottom warmly with the cane, and then removed it. She heard the sound of the cane swooshing through the air. The breath she’d held in her lungs popped out of her when it struck. She clenched her teeth against the burst of pain, but was quickly distracted even from that when John once again thrust his finger into her drenched pussy.
    “Stand up,” he said, his voice sounding rough and tight. Was he as turned on as she was? No. Impossible.
    She stood and again he was rubbing her cream on the tips of her breasts. He’d stimulated her nipples so much they were exquisitely sensitive. Her bottom burned and her inner thighs were wet from her arousal. When he began to lightly pinch and tweak her nipples, she screamed in sexual frustration.
    “Shhh,” he soothed, before he leaned her back against one of his arms and took a nipple into his mouth. She cried out in delight at the sensation of his warm, sucking mouth and lashing tongue.
    “That’s right. Oh, suck it good and hard,” she begged.
    He gave her what she wanted while he pinched her other nipple. Jennifer arched her back against his supporting arm. Every muscle in her body was coiled tight. The air seemed to take on weight against her pussy. When John bit tenderly, she screamed as orgasm broke through her, the quality of it tight and cramped without genital stimulation.
    “Oh, it hurts . . . so good,” she moaned, not even sure what she was saying.
    Suddenly John was turning her into his arms, embracing her. His hand found its way to her pussy. He rubbed her slick clit briskly. It was as if he’d liberated the congested energy. She shouted as climax rocketed through her, more intense and powerful than she’d ever experienced. She rode his hand mindlessly, lost in the battering waves of a sea of sensation and pleasure.
    Slowly, the storm eased. John continued to rub her with his hand, nursing every last shudder of bliss out of her. Finally, she sagged against his chest.
    “Oh my God,” she whispered in breathless awe, staring into the pitch-black and not flinching.
    “You’re amazing,” he said next to her ear. The heat and tension in his voice made her eyes spring wide.
    “Do you have another condom, John?”
    “No,” he replied, his voice thick with regret.
    “Then untie me and let me suck you.”
    She heard the raggedness of his breath as he leaned close, his hands behind her back. His penis, warm, heavy and hard as a poker, brushed against her heaving belly.
    She went to her knees immediately when her hands were free, her role in their sex play forgotten. Only hunger ruled her—that and her innate understanding of how much he hurt for relief.
    He spoke to her as she sucked him. His deep, ragged voice blended with the feeling of his thick, pulsing cock in her mouth and hand, mixed with the scent of his arousal filling her nose, and mingled with the taste of him on her tongue, until she didn’t need to see him; he was with her, racing in her blood, throbbing in every cell of her being.
    “How can you be so sweet and small and suck so hard?” he muttered, his voice cracking. He hissed when she scraped the edge of her teeth against the underside of his penis on her sweep upwards. “And you knew my sweet spot from the first, didn’t you?” His hands tightened in her hair. “Ah, I’m about to come. I wish I was coming high