He grinned wickedly and then she heard the door to her refrigerator open, the clamor of him pulling items out of it.
“Mark? What are you doing?” Her body was shaking from waiting and wanting.
Back in her line of vision, he shook his head. “Only vanilla ice cream? That’s kind of ironic.” He slid a spoonful of Ben & Jerry’s into his mouth, then scooped up some more.
“Is this your idea of torture? Because I’m getting ready to kill you.”
“The more disobedient you are, the longer you wait.” He placed the back of the cold spoon against her nipple and she bucked on the table. “Fuck, that’s cold!”
“In a good way, right?” He turned the spoon over so the frozen dessert rolled onto her breast. “Mmm. You look good enough to eat.” He bent forward and took the ice cream, along with her nipple, into his mouth.
Gasping, she turned her head to the side and bit her lip. He licked, sucked, tugged. Spooned more ice cream onto her other breast and did it again. Soon she was writhing on the table, the metal hinges of the tethers clanking against the metal legs.
Her belly quivered as he kissed her between her breasts, down her rib cage, and over her right hip bone. Then he was between her legs, nibbling the inside of her thigh.
Freezing-cold ice cream hit her clit and she cried out when his mouth followed, warm and wet, the contrast causing her to arch against his tongue, his lips. He spread her pussy wide, licking her, sucking her, playing her like she was one of his instruments. And, like one of his instruments, she made noises each time he did it just right. Little cries of pleasure; little gasps of joy.
Then his fingers were tracing her, sliding through her labia and past her vagina to her anus. She stilled when she felt a pressure there. But then his mouth was on her clit again, sucking, teasing, controlling her pleasure, and when he pushed his finger into her ass her eyes flew open, but she didn’t stop him.
He pushed deeper, using his mouth to keep her on edge, using his fingers to intensify the sensations. She was going to come, come so hard…
“I didn’t say you could come.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, thought of her shopping list, her credit card bill, anything to control the orgasm hovering at her very core.
He continued to work her, and just when she didn’t think she could control herself one second longer, he pulled back, slid out of her. Standing, he pulled his shirt off and threw it on the floor. Now he wore only jeans that fell to his hip bones and nothing else. She loved his body. His muscles looked taut and strong with controlled power.
Her chest rose and fell in heavy, deep breaths as she watched him. She could have watched forever, but he silently left the room and she waited. It was a power play, a move to remind her who was in charge.
As if she didn’t know it already. She was naked, sticky, chained to a table, had just given up her anal virginity, and it wasn’t quite ten on a Sunday morning.
Yeah. She’d say she was pretty much his.
This time when he came back, he was totally naked and held something in his hand. Something dark and black, but she couldn’t quite make it out. And anyway, she was too busy looking at his body to notice much else. An entirely fresh wave of lust washed over her as she scanned his long legs, his strong thighs with a light dusting of dark hair. His concave belly, beneath which his cock rose, hard and beautiful. She licked her lips.
“I figured a girl like you would have a little toy in her nightstand, so I went looking for it. But, much to my pleasure, look what I found instead.” He held up the black mini-flogger she’d purchased at Bindings.
He stood next to the table and lightly dragged the feather strands across her stomach. She shivered; the light touch of the feathers and leather on her skin was just as luscious as she’d imagined.
Sighing, she closed her eyes as he continued to drag the strands over her body. Her ribs, her breasts, her neck. It felt so good, soothing even.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, the leather softly smacked her breast. She cried out.
“You like that, don’t you?”
She blinked, nodded.
He did it again, struck her nipples until the peaks were throbbing, sore, and alive. He seemed to be in touch with the flow of her endorphins because he started using more force, flicking her harder, until she was moaning, jerking, pleading.
He slapped her once right between her legs, hitting her swollen pussy, and she screamed and begged him to continue.
But he shook his head. “I’d rather fuck you now.” His fingers found her pussy, and he flicked her clit. “Would you like that?”
“Just do it,” she said, barely able to speak.
He took his cock in his fist and pumped a few times. Long strokes. Leisurely. Then he rolled a condom onto his erection.