She laid her head on her crossed forearms, and her heart drummed in her ears. He spent a few minutes gently rubbing the muscles of her shoulders and her neck. Once the tension had eased up, he stopped, and she listened to the rustle of movement behind her and moaned when a cool sensation spread across her tender tush, soothing the burn.
“This will help. You might still be able to see some redness from Samson’s mark tomorrow, but little else.”
Even after the cream had been rubbed into her bottom, he continued to stroke her ass, and she closed her eyes, turning inward and enjoying his touch.
Her inner angel told her she shouldn’t enjoy it. She hadn’t spent enough time with him, hadn’t made a formal agreement to be his to do anything he wanted with her. And furthermore, she was letting him do intimate, sadistic things to her when they hadn’t even slept together.
Do I want that? Do I want to open that can of worms?
Her inner devil looked up from her copy of Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns and nodded with glee while threatening her inner angel with a roll of duct tape.
His fingertips trailed along her spine, making her back arch as if he held some hidden string controlling her, and then she shuddered as he slid them back in the other direction, to her bare butt once more.
“You are beautiful, fiammetta. Every inch of you.” His fingertips dipped to slide along the sensitive under-curve of her ass, and her breath caught in her throat as her pussy clenched in response. He made a low sound of approval in his throat, and his fingers traced the cleft of her ass. “You’re wet for me, too.”
She opened her mouth to say something smart but clamped it closed when he shifted just enough that her thighs spread a tiny bit. Fingertips traced to the top of her crack and then headed downward, his intention clear. Her cunt convulsed, aching with emptiness, and a long and embarrassingly loud moan escaped her as his fingers continued downward.
His hand splayed across her back and held her down when she arched up. He tickled her pussy lips with a barely there, teasing touch, and she hid her face in her hands as she lifted her derriere to him, silently begging for more.
“Mmm” was the only sound he made, but it was a sound of approval, and she wanted nothing more than for him to—
“Oh please, yes.” She whimpered into her hands as he dipped two fingers between her lips. She was so slick she heard the wet sounds as he withdrew and plunged deeper, filling her tightly. “Joseph!”
The orgasm welled forth, and she writhed in his lap, responding to each thrust of his fingers with bucking movements, greedily taking all he would give her. He worked her, and the orgasm grew stronger, as if it wasn’t finished with her. She raised her head to moan with ecstasy until the waves of the climax receded like a gently lapping current after a flash flood, leaving her weak and sated in its wake.
The flush in her cheeks was so hot she imagined her whole face must be embarrassingly red. Joseph went back to stroking her and allowed her to catch her breath. Even after her heart no longer pounded against her breastbone, the last waves of ecstasy shimmered in her pussy. She lay there, limp.
She might’ve dozed because she was brought back to awareness as he gently manhandled her into a curled-up position in his lap and reclined a bit with her in his arms.
“Sweet, sweet fiammetta,” he whispered against her disheveled hair. The emotion in his voice registered through the haze in her brain.
“What does that mean?” she whispered blearily.
“Little flame,” he murmured before pressing a sweet kiss against her temple.
“Not ‘flamin’ hot butt cheeks’? Because I think that sounds more like me.”
She bounced on his chest as he laughed, and he smoothed back the hair framing her hot face and lifted her chin so she was looking up at him. Knowing she was the source of his smile and his laughter gave her a sense of accomplishment. He didn’t smile very often.
“You are quite possibly the funniest, most charming, sassiest woman I’ve ever met.”
“It’s a gift,” she replied with a weak smile, her head still resting limply on his chest. Her neck twinged, and she shifted. “Unfortunately, I can’t stay this way for much longer. It’s making my neck hurt.”
He immediately shifted and helped her to sit up in his lap and gazed down at her, the worry filling his eyes. “I should’ve asked you about that before even letting you in the club. Are you in pain?”
“Besides my butt?” His growl of impatience hastened her to continue. “It’s just an old injury. I’m not in any pain right now, but I’ve learned to take care so the muscle doesn’t spasm and actually become debilitating.”