Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
The moment I touch her without the barrier of cotton between us, I know I’m not going to walk out of here without busting a load. Her skin is like silk under my calloused palms. The way she trembles only excites me more.
“Ready?” I ask, my voice hoarse as I knead her naked ass cheeks.
I don’t expect an answer. The question serves as a warning, preparing her before I anchor her to the table with one hand on her lower back while bringing the other down on her ass.
The slap of my palm on her right cheek reverberates with a sharp lash in the room. She hollows her back, lifting her upper body off the table, but she doesn’t utter a chirp or move her hands from her sides.
Good girl.
The imprint of my fingers leaves a pretty shade of pink on her milky skin. The sight does something to me. It makes me want more. More of her.
Two down. I only have eight chances left to play with her and to bring us both somewhere neither of us intended to go. I certainly didn’t envision the ending I’m heading toward when I started this game. I only wanted to see how hot she could make me. Losing my control wasn’t part of the deal. I just can’t help myself when it comes to my new possession.
“Ready?”
And this time, I do want an answer, because it matters. It matters, because the rules have changed.
“Just get it over with,” she says, gracing me with a fleeting but no less cutting look.
“If that’s what you want,” I say with a smile, devouring the canvas in front of me with my eyes.
Soon, her porcelain skin will glow red.
I’m mindful of my strength when I deliver the next blow, swatting her left globe. She sucks air through her teeth. I’m going easy on her, the sting in my slaps mild. If I wanted to, I could’ve had her in tears by now, begging me to stop. But that’s not what I want. I want her to beg me not to stop.
I give her a second to breathe before I tan her right cheek again.
Three.
Her left cheek.
Four.
At five, I go faster, my rhythm no longer timed to give her a pause to drag in air but rather to steal her breath. She arches her back with every slap I deliver. The burn warms my palm, a delicious heat tingling down my spine and drawing my balls tight. What a sight she is with her panties pulled down and her ass painted red with my handprint.
At eight, I stop. The only sound she gives me is a shaky exhale. When I smooth a hand over her lower back, the tight set of her shoulders eases a little. That only lasts until I drag a finger to the top of her crack. She freezes when I trace that line from the top. Goosebumps run over her ass and her thighs, contracting her skin.
“What—” she starts, but her words are cut short when I reach her dark hole.
Her spine looks ready to snap as I part her cheeks and bury my finger between them to brush lightly over the pucker of her asshole. I run circles over the sphere of muscles, learning it’s rosebud shape as she lies perfectly still.
I’ve been with women who were into anal sex. I know how to stimulate and prepare a female body well. I know just how much pressure to apply to tease. Anya’s sharp intake confirms that I haven’t lost my skills. She’s apprehensive, a little scared perhaps, but the way she pushes back a tad tells me she’s also curious.
I keep my touch light, rubbing that spot gently.
“Saverio,” she says, stammering over the syllables of my name.
The laziness of my tone is designed to mask the urgency that drives me hard. “What is it, tesoro?”
“You…” She swallows audibly. “We shouldn’t do this.”
This is exactly what we’ll be doing, sooner than she thinks. I increase the pressure of my finger, stopping short of splitting her open. “Why, my treasure? Does it feel too good?”
Her breath catches on a hitch. “We should stop.”
“Oh, but I’m not done yet.”
“I…I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
I move my finger lower, right down into the elastic of her panties, keeping it just above the seam of her slit. Even then she doesn’t move a muscle. She keeps as quiet as a mouse that plays dead for a snake, not that playing dead will save her.
“Why not?” I ask. “Don’t you like it?”
“No,” she says quickly.
“It’s perfectly normal to get turned on by what we’re doing.”
She jerks her face sideways to look at me. “By what you’re doing, you mean.”
“You don’t have to lift a finger or take responsibility for anything. All you have to do is bend over, spread your legs, and let me take care of the rest. Would you like that, Anya, letting me look and touch as I please?”