Under His Spell by Jade Lee, Kathy Lyons

body blow, hardand full and perfect. The impact filled her mind and body, ratcheting everything tighter.
    He did it again. Oh yes, again! Her breath shuddered, her body tightened. Once more and then…
    He didn’t slam in again. He withdrew abruptly and stayed away. The emptiness was a huge loss, but she still felt his weight pressing her hips down. “Lick me!” he ordered. “And suck. Lightly.”
    She extended her tongue, startled to find his chest right above her mouth. He stretched and moved, but apparently not where he wanted. He moved again. Her tongue rolled over muscle and flesh and through chest hair. Then she felt it: the hard nub of his nipple. She concentrated there, flicking her tongue over it, even sucking it as best as she could. When he groaned above her, she knew she had done well.
    Then he was gone, his chest pulled away. She barely had time to process that he was gone when she felt his penis thrust hard into her again. Big. Thick. Abrupt. She cried out at the impact.
    He was grinding into her with every thrust. His motions were hard, his every gasp seemingly wrenched from him.
    She had done this to him. She had brought him to this mindless place of rutting, and she loved it. The slam into her felt so right. She tightened her legs but she couldn’t get a grip. She wanted to come. She needed to…
    Her belly tightened, but it was too late.
    “Agh!” he roared as he released into her. She felt his contractions, knew each individual pulse of his organ as she tightened around him. She so wanted to follow him, but she couldn’t. She didn’t. And so she whimpered, even as she gloried in his steady pulse inside her.
    He collapsed on top of her, his groan trembling fromhim into her. It was hard to breathe, and the table was going to cut off her circulation soon. She hoped he didn’t fall asleep there on top of her, but how wonderful if she had just brought him to exhaustion. The accomplishment warmed her, even as worries began to lap at the edges of her mind. Should she say something? Should she wake him?
    She needn’t have wondered. Within moments, he took a deep shuddering breath and stirred. “You’re going to kill me,” he whispered into her ear. “But I’m going to die happy.”
    Then with a heave, he pushed himself up and off of her. The move was abrupt and devastating. She could finally breathe, but the loss of his heat and his presence created an ache of loneliness.
    “I didn’t mean to do that,” he said, his tone regretful. “I just meant to tease you, but you’re so damn beautiful, I got carried away.”
    She didn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say except that she liked that she could distract him, that she could bring him to that place of mindlessness just like her own.
    “Was that a perfect orgasm?” he asked.
    “No, master.”
    “Of course not. Because you didn’t even orgasm, did you?”
    “No, master.”
    “So let’s fix that. But first I’ll have to wash you off.”
    She exhaled slowly, waiting for the brush of cloth. Her legs had flopped off the edge again, so she was wide open for his ministrations. Maybe the cloth would do what he hadn’t—
    Water dripped on her groin, and she cried out insurprise, arching away though she couldn’t go far. Instead, she felt the steady stream flow on her inside thigh. Cold. Shocking. But before she could register more than that, he pressed his forearm on her belly, pinning her down.
    “Don’t move, Nicky. Stay right there.”
    “Yes, master,” she said. She relaxed her thighs and her back. The tension was beginning to hurt anyway. Then she heard noises that she didn’t understand. He was close, but not touching her.
    And the stream of water moved. Up her thigh, into her mons, and then…right onto her. And if she had any doubt as to his intention, his fingers touched her, lifting her flesh away such that the stream slid right over her clit.
    She gasped, feeling overwhelmed by the sensations. Cold water flowing over her.