“Fuck,” he rasped. “Did you just draw fucking blood? Jesus, Faye, I didn’t have you down for some batshit fucking vamp. What the fuck did that stupid cunt teach you in fucking Venice?”
“This isn’t him,” I said. “This is all me.” I savoured one last lick before I got to my feet, and I was too wound up to think straight, too horny to fucking breathe. I unbuttoned my blouse, reaching inside the lace cups of my bra to twist my nipples. They sparked like lightning and took my breath away. Yes. I needed this. “I need to come,” I hissed. “And you’re going to make me.”
“Let me out, then,” he snapped. “We can switch this up a bit, I think you’ve got some fucking comeuppance due.”
“No,” I laughed. “Not this week. This week you’re mine.” The words hit me in my gut, and it felt good. He was all mine. Mine to control, mine to command, mine to fucking hurt. I took the cane in my hand, and he flinched as he caught sight of it. “So much I could do,” I said. “So much I want to do.”
I kicked his ankles apart until his legs were wide, then tapped the cane lightly against his balls. He really did flinch then, wriggling in his bonds like a fish on a line.
“Don’t be crazy,” he snarled. “I fucking need those.”
“Relax,” I said. “I’ve got no interest in rendering you incapable. There’s no fucking fun in that.”
I ran the tip of the cane up between his ass cheeks, and he roared like a fucking animal as it found its target. I pressed in gently, just enough for the tip to force its way inside and he tightened around it. “Yes,” I smiled. “Fuck, I want to take you.” I wriggled it around, just an inch, and loved the way he huffed and squirmed. “But not today.”
I pulled it out and he wasted no time. He twisted in his chains, and in a heartbeat he’d flipped himself onto his back. His cock stood proud, an impressive veiny shaft, swollen thick and ready to fucking go.
There was even less slack in the handcuffs than he’d had previously, and his wrists were crossed tight. I didn’t have long, not before he’d start cramping up. Time to make the most of it.
“I want to come,” I hissed. “I’m so fucking wet, Andy, it’s not even fucking funny.” I hitched up my skirt and spread my legs, pulling aside my panties so he could see my pussy. I watched his cock twitch, and smiled. “You’re going to make me come so hard.”
I put a knee on the desk alongside him, pulling myself up and over. I shifted myself to face his feet, straddling his head with my thighs and lowering my pussy onto his face. I pulled the fabric of my panties to the side. “Lick me,” I said. “Now.”
He growled as his mouth opened, and his tongue was straight on target, warm and wet and perfectly fucking skilled. I braced myself, my palms on his thighs as I ground my sopping cunt onto him. “Yes!” I moaned. “Fucking hell, yes!” I wriggled and jerked, squirming as he sucked my throbbing clit between his lips, and his cock was too inviting, too fucking tempting to ignore.
I took him in my mouth, and he was already dripping. He bucked up at me, and I took it, I took him as deep as he would go, moaning around his length as he drove me close to orgasm. I sucked him until I was out of air, then took him in hand instead. I wasn’t gentle, and I didn’t care to be, gripping tight and jerking him with brutal strokes. Still he bucked, still he wanted it.
“Fuck,” I groaned pressing onto his face. “I’m going to fucking come, and you’d better fucking come with me.”
He bucked harder and I ground my sopping pussy faster, and the world became a blur of rage and pain and dirty fucking sex. I crested, and it was so fucking intense that I saw stars. My body twitched and juddered, legs trembling as I exploded. One final buck and he was gone too. Hard, thick jets of cum splattered my tits and his perfect abs, and his thighs were shaking, breath ragged and hot against my fluttering clit.
I dismounted without grace, backing away until I clattered into my own desk. I caught my breath with my eyes on his, and slowly the world came back. I dug out the keys from the case and set him free. He shot to his feet like a bullet, rubbing sore wrists and making a big old deal of it.
He tried to look back over his shoulder, twisting to see the damage. “I’m not going to be able to sit down for a fucking week, you crazy bitch.”
“Good,” I said. “Might have taught you a lesson.”
“Don’t count on it,” he said, but this time there was no edge to it, no spite. The tension had cracked and dissipated, leaving just us and a club to run. He brushed past me, standing close as he slipped back into his shirt. He grimaced as he pulled up his boxers, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the expletives as he pulled his trousers up after them.