Iron Dominance by Cari Silverwood

arched.
    Eyes shut, she heard a soft animal-like growl.
    “Claire, if you’re not damn careful, I’ll eat you up.”
    What ? She opened her eyes a slit, still panting, to see that he’d stepped away a little, angling his stance so as to observe her.
    His gaze brushed her, lingering on her breasts before he locked on her eyes. “Last chance. Do you want to stop? Are you too sore? It might cause me irreparable harm, but I can stop.” Then he eyed her darkly, as if he’d liked to do exactly what he’d threatened to—eat her up.
    The pain of the bruise at her neck had faded to nothing in spite of the choker. With her whole being, she yearned for more of him. He inflamed her past bearing, and knowing that he watched her swept her excitement to another level.
    She licked her lips, aware of her wrists still caught behind her and the display of her body. God, if he didn’t do more than this, she’d surely burst.
    “No,” she said huskily. “Don’t stop.”
    “Please?”
    Ah, how he tormented her. “Please.”
    “Over here then.” Still gripping her wrists, he urged her toward the bed, to kneel by the side of it and lie facedown across the quilt with her bottom up. He spread her hands, palm down, over each cheek of her buttocks.
    “Don’t move,” he whispered in her ear, “and I won’t have to tie you.”
    Tie me ? She almost let go at that. Was this what she wanted? But he held his hands over hers a moment. She stayed there.
    “Good.”
    His fingers trailed over the backs of her hands, over the ends of her fingernails, and down her thighs. She quivered, sucking in air through the quilt bunched beneath her mouth.
    “Spread your legs, Claire.”
    She shifted them, feeling even more exposed, a breeze caressing her engorged labia. He traced down the line of pearls, reached her wet cleft, and followed deeper, where the pearls seemed to have sunk into her flesh. Slick and wet. The scent of her lust reached her. Slowly he went farther until he reached her clit. He circled it, teasing, making her shift her bottom to place the finger just right.
    “No.” To her shock, he smacked one cheek of her ass with the flat of his hand, just missing her fingers.
    Oh . A wave of pleasure from the smack vibrated through her lower body. She froze and took a piece of quilt between her teeth.
    Her taut nipples throbbed as they pressed into the bed. She heard him kneel. The end of a finger pressed against the entrance to her vagina, slipping in, then the smallest distance out, over and over while something, a finger and thumb perhaps, clamped softly on her clit and began to squeeze and release in exquisite rhythm. Two, then three of Theo’s fingers eased into her entrance, stretching her. Each thrust slid farther inside until her body climbed, brimming with tension, to the peak. The fingers slid all the way in, the finger and thumb squashed down tighter and faster. She wanted to move but mustn’t, couldn’t. Her clit became a swollen nub, bursting, wanting that last press. She shook and exploded over the edge, crying out into the darkness of the quilt, convulsing around his fingers.
    When she’d quieted and her heart had climbed down from the heavens, she found her hands at her sides, tangled in the quilt.
    She heard Theo move behind her and the slither of cloth falling to the floor.
    He leaned his whole body on her, his erection hard against her back. “I think you’re wet and open enough now, darling. If it hurts too much, say so.”
    She took in a deep breath, then nodded slightly. Trepidation caught hold of her. This was far beyond what she’d gleaned from anatomy books and demonstrations and gossip. He moved the moistened rope of pearls to one side, then placed his hands over her wrists where they rested at her side and held them down.
    This time it wasn’t a finger at her entrance. The blunt pressure of his cock strained at her vulva all the way round, evenly—tight and slowly inching inward through her juices.