heart’s blood. Meant it so much she’d sacrificed her relationship with the one person she’d always loved soul-deep. Alice.
She trembled. “Please start moving, Logan. Make the thoughts go away.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of them.” He surrounded her, held her. “I won’t let them tear you apart.”
“I’m afraid they’ll ruin this. Please?”
“Beg, and maybe I will.” He shifted, a push deeper, and her tissues convulsed around him, making her moan. His fingers were still tangled with hers, and she was able to move her head, put her mouth on them, her lips parted so her teeth cut against his knuckles.
“Please, Master. Please . . . fuck me. Make me forget.”
“I’d rather make you forgive. But one step at a time.” Slowly, he straightened above her, moving his hands from her wrists to her back, sliding down either side of her spine so she didn’t feel the loss of his weight, his heat, so keenly. Putting both hands on her hips, he withdrew just as gradually, then pushed back in the same way.
Just like that, every thought went away, her body’s responses taking up all her energy to laser in on the wealth of sensations he created. He was a nice, thick size that rubbed the right ways, inside and outside. As he thrust into her more firmly, his testicles pressed into her clit, sending a pleasurable little spasm through her.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Yessss.”
He did it again. Her backside was sore from his punishment, but the impact of his body against that tender flesh just added to the spiraling feelings. He held to the same pace, though from the clutch of his fingers, the rasp of his breath, she could tell he was like a bow being drawn, close to loosing the arrow. She was right with him. She couldn’t control any of it, except for lifting her hips to every thrust, trying to push back against him, inspire him to increase his pace, but he was stubborn as hell, holding on to all control, making sure the buildup was excruciating. She gasped at each stroke, then moaned, then pleaded.
“Please . . . Master . . .”
He caught a fistful of her hair, pulling her head up and back, emphasizing her bondage, the imposition of his will. She cried out as her clit and the walls inside began to spasm, a precursor to climax. With every stroke, her clit was rubbed against those smooth tacks.
“Ask me to come, Madison. You don’t come until I say so.”
“Please, Master. Please let me come. And you come, too. Please.” She wanted to feel it, wished he would tear away the condom.
“You don’t want it bad enough, Miss Fine. You aren’t really begging.” Sliding his hand beneath her, he lifted her hips, denying her the bumpy stimulation of the golden tack heads as he continued to thrust.
By the time he let them both go, she was begging in ways that creatures tormented by hellfire would. She was crying out his name, calling him Master, pleading for his permission. When at last he let her have that contact with the beam, gripped both hips anew and started thrusting hard enough he was smacking his testicles against her with every stroke, she was screaming. She couldn’t hold off any more.
“Please . . . Master . . .”
“Come now, Madison. Let me hear you.”
The sound that ripped from her throat was like the dying shriek of a civilization, long and drawn out, laden with the emotions she was releasing along with the climax. New tears bathed her face when the intense spasms started to ease, and then he set her off again by releasing at last. A paroxysm of aftershocks gripped her, goaded by his groans of male pleasure, the bruising grip of his fingers. He slammed into her, not holding back, letting her feel the sheer, rutting animal demand, his mastery unleashed fully in the ultimate act of control, fucking her into insensibility.
Every second of this would haunt her dreams. He hadn’t climaxed until she did everything he commanded, holding control over her pleasure and his
She trembled. “Please start moving, Logan. Make the thoughts go away.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of them.” He surrounded her, held her. “I won’t let them tear you apart.”
“I’m afraid they’ll ruin this. Please?”
“Beg, and maybe I will.” He shifted, a push deeper, and her tissues convulsed around him, making her moan. His fingers were still tangled with hers, and she was able to move her head, put her mouth on them, her lips parted so her teeth cut against his knuckles.
“Please, Master. Please . . . fuck me. Make me forget.”
“I’d rather make you forgive. But one step at a time.” Slowly, he straightened above her, moving his hands from her wrists to her back, sliding down either side of her spine so she didn’t feel the loss of his weight, his heat, so keenly. Putting both hands on her hips, he withdrew just as gradually, then pushed back in the same way.
Just like that, every thought went away, her body’s responses taking up all her energy to laser in on the wealth of sensations he created. He was a nice, thick size that rubbed the right ways, inside and outside. As he thrust into her more firmly, his testicles pressed into her clit, sending a pleasurable little spasm through her.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Yessss.”
He did it again. Her backside was sore from his punishment, but the impact of his body against that tender flesh just added to the spiraling feelings. He held to the same pace, though from the clutch of his fingers, the rasp of his breath, she could tell he was like a bow being drawn, close to loosing the arrow. She was right with him. She couldn’t control any of it, except for lifting her hips to every thrust, trying to push back against him, inspire him to increase his pace, but he was stubborn as hell, holding on to all control, making sure the buildup was excruciating. She gasped at each stroke, then moaned, then pleaded.
“Please . . . Master . . .”
He caught a fistful of her hair, pulling her head up and back, emphasizing her bondage, the imposition of his will. She cried out as her clit and the walls inside began to spasm, a precursor to climax. With every stroke, her clit was rubbed against those smooth tacks.
“Ask me to come, Madison. You don’t come until I say so.”
“Please, Master. Please let me come. And you come, too. Please.” She wanted to feel it, wished he would tear away the condom.
“You don’t want it bad enough, Miss Fine. You aren’t really begging.” Sliding his hand beneath her, he lifted her hips, denying her the bumpy stimulation of the golden tack heads as he continued to thrust.
By the time he let them both go, she was begging in ways that creatures tormented by hellfire would. She was crying out his name, calling him Master, pleading for his permission. When at last he let her have that contact with the beam, gripped both hips anew and started thrusting hard enough he was smacking his testicles against her with every stroke, she was screaming. She couldn’t hold off any more.
“Please . . . Master . . .”
“Come now, Madison. Let me hear you.”
The sound that ripped from her throat was like the dying shriek of a civilization, long and drawn out, laden with the emotions she was releasing along with the climax. New tears bathed her face when the intense spasms started to ease, and then he set her off again by releasing at last. A paroxysm of aftershocks gripped her, goaded by his groans of male pleasure, the bruising grip of his fingers. He slammed into her, not holding back, letting her feel the sheer, rutting animal demand, his mastery unleashed fully in the ultimate act of control, fucking her into insensibility.
Every second of this would haunt her dreams. He hadn’t climaxed until she did everything he commanded, holding control over her pleasure and his
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