Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Dinner?” New dread poured into my belly. I’d thought we were going to continue whatever he’d started and use the new tool he’d moved into the room. “What about the . . . the . . .”
“The plug in your ass?” He said it so casually I hated him a little again. “It stays. I want you thinking about how my cock’s going to feel there later.”
He had to hold me up as I sagged in his arms. I couldn’t catch my breath. And he was absolutely right. I was plenty nervous about him doing that, but it wasn’t half as scary as the idea I might end up liking it.
π
It was the most uncomfortable dinner yet. Not just because of the toy, but because I couldn’t focus on anything. Trying to hold a conversation with me was frustrating for Luka, and he often had to repeat himself. But he was the one to blame for my flustered state, which he was clearly enjoying.
He ate his dinner slowly, savoring me more than the meat. I picked at the food, just wanting this part over. The sooner we got through dinner, the sooner we’d get back to the bench and on with it. I told myself there wasn’t a single molecule of curiosity in me about what was going to happen. I wouldn’t fucking allow it.
I did, however, drink the wine he poured for me. Both glasses. When he poured himself the last of the bottle, I held my empty glass out to him.
“You’re already smiling,” he said, “so I think you’re done.”
Crap, I’d already gotten to stage one. “You didn’t care I was wasted our first time.”
His expression hardened. “That’s because I was wasted, too. I already told you, I want you to enjoy this. Not get sick and feel like death tomorrow. You ever had a wine hangover before?”
“No,” I fired back, getting mouthy from the alcohol. “Just tequila and rohypnol, Luka.”
He exhaled loudly and the muscle along his jaw ticked. “Upstairs, now.”
Luka carried the glass of wine with him, and pushed open the door to the green bedroom, gesturing like a gentleman for me to go inside. My buzzing brain prayed the bench had magically disappeared, but no. It sat, waiting for me. Or maybe . . .
“Is there a chance you’re going to be strapped down to that and not me?” I said, my voice slurring.
Amusement passed through his expression, gone as quickly as it arrived. “No. Take off your clothes.”
I’d wanted to get dinner over with, and now I wished I’d stalled. I moved achingly slow as he sat in the loveseat and watched me with a lustful gaze. I discarded my clothes one at a time on the bed until I had nothing left except what he’d put inside me.
The room was freezing, and got colder when he pointed to the bench.
I swallowed a gulp and forced my feet to move. But as I stood beside the bench, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do.
Luka was up in a flash. “You lay on it face down, length-wise. Your head goes here.” He pointed to one end, and then helped me lower myself awkwardly on it. The cold vinyl squished and ran between my breasts, down along my stomach, and between my legs.
His warm hands took hold of my wrist and gently placed it in the first cuff. By the time he was securing my final ankle, I was shaking like a leaf. I rasped for air and gripped the legs of the bench, driving my nails into the wood. Fingers ran the length of my spine and I shivered. His touch was electricity, shocking my nerve endings awake.
The first spanking he gave was nothing in comparison to his others before, and the next was the same. Almost gentle, like he was warming me up.
“I’m going to turn your ass the perfect shade of red.”
He built up the intensity slowly, following a pattern where he’d spank each side, then circle his fingers on my clit. My head was buzzing, and I moaned softly as he manipulated me. As his slaps got harder, I could feel them inside and out because of the plug.
The rhythm filled the room. Slap, slap, moan. Slap, slap, moan. My body responded to him, becoming eager for his touch, whether it was delivering pain or pleasure. The lines blurred together. My backside was on fire, but it was a tingling, interesting feeling. Once again, I wondered how much I could take. And this time, I also wondered how much he’d give me. Was he . . . pleased at how I handled his spankings?
He paused at one point to finish his wine, and then stepped back up to my burning skin. I flinched at his soft caress. He whispered under his breath, “So fucking gorgeous.”