Going Deep by Roz Lee

topping from the bottom,
asking him to compromise yet again, but he’d made his point, and she was offering
a gift he’d be a loon not to take.
    “On your knees,”
he commanded, guiding her from his lap to kneel between his legs. He cupped the
back of her head in one hand and fisted his cock in the other. “Take the bra
off. I want to see you.”
    White lace innocence
fell to the rouge red floor, mocking her presence in such a place. She was all
sunshine and light on the outside, but deep within lurked a dark, wicked woman
with needs that matched his perfectly.
    “Open your
mouth, girl. You can thank me by sucking my cock.”
    She smiled, and he
nudged the tip against her mouth. Applying pressure to the back of her head, he
watched as her pink lips parted and his dick slid inside.
    Her tongue
swirled and stroked. “Christ almighty,” he hissed.
     Her cheeks
hollowed as she sucked, and those pink lips clamped rhythmically around his
cock. If he didn’t look away, he’d be shooting cum down her throat in seconds.
     “My balls,” he
croaked, needing to feel her hands on him. “Play with my balls.”
    She obeyed,
holding the base of his cock with one hand, rolling and tugging on his balls
with the other. He tilted his face toward the ceiling and threaded his fingers
through her hair, holding on for dear life as his angel coaxed him to Heaven.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    Reliving the
previous night over and over was driving her crazy. He had given her a night
she would never forget. She still couldn’t believe the way he’d accepted her
anger and, with calm reason, had offered a compromise. He could easily have
dismissed her feelings, but he’d listened to her concerns—really listened.
    Because of the
way he’d encouraged her to speak what was on her mind and accepted his part in
the misunderstanding, she progressed from resenting his promised punishment, to
accepting it—even liking it before it was through. She shook her head. The real
punishment had come from within herself. She’d disappointed him, and had he
been a less reasonable man, she wouldn’t have cared. But he wasn’t, and she did
care. Very much.
    She’d learned
valuable lessons last night—lessons about clear communication, about being
open-minded, and accepting responsibility for one’s actions, and she’d learned
to trust him as her Master. The punishment he’d meted out had been just and
fair, based on the level of her misconduct.
    She’d also
learned something about being blindfolded. Loss of sight heightened some of
senses—like touch and hearing, while obliterating others—namely, propriety.
    Her skin flamed
remembering the things she’d done, and allowed a man, a practical stranger no
less, to do to her. The blindfold had rendered her vulnerable but, at the same
time, set her free. It blinded her to her inhibitions and took her to a place
in her mind where nothing else mattered but pleasure—hers and her Master’s.
    She’d heard once
that punishment was a relative thing. If a person liked solitude, locking them
alone in a cell would accomplish nothing. In order to punish, you have to take
away something a person values. He had stripped away her dignity—a punishment
befitting her crime. But he’d tempered the harshness with pleasure.
    Realization
slammed into her. She never wanted to disappoint this man again. But even if
she did, he would find a way to gently show her she’d let down herself, too.
And she had. Hadn’t she known all along she should clarify his instructions?
But she’d chosen not to in an effort to preserve her dignity. How embarrassing
to email him after their first meeting to ask if it was all right to
masturbate. He would know how much he’d affected her, and she didn’t want that.
    He’d cut to the core
of her crime—her pride—and unequivocally demonstrated even that part of her belonged
to him. And he’d done it with understanding and compassion. His tender care of
her