For 100 Days(69)

“I should punish you,” he murmurs, his voice harsh with lust.

As he says this, I realize I’m holding my breath, suspended in a dark anticipation that sends my heart galloping in my breast. I am waiting for his touch, for his kiss, for whatever he desires from me. I am his for the taking, however he wants me. I have been from the moment our eyes first met weeks ago, and he knows it.

“Yes,” I answer.

My admission is so quiet, at first, I think the breeze has carried it away. But then I watch Nick’s eyes darken under the hard slashes of his brows. I watch his achingly handsome face take on a dangerous edge now, a look that unnerves me, excites me . . . makes me tremble with need.

“You trust me,” he says, less question than confident statement of fact.

I nod, too caught up in my desire to summon words.

“Turn around.”

I obey his low command, and find that I am standing at the very edge of the open terrace. The Plexiglas railing is only inches in front of me, the hip-high barrier between my body and an eighteen-story drop practically invisible in the starlit darkness. It steals my breath to be so close to the inky, endless space below me. Farther out, the moonlit, spangled water ripples away from the dark shore as far as my eyes can see.

Nick’s strong hands come to rest on my shoulders. His warmth seeps through my skin and bones, and I can’t keep from settling back into him as he moves up close behind me. I want to feel his arms around me, to know that I am anchored to something safe and solid, but he denies me that comfort.

“Hold on to the railing,” he instructs me, his tone authoritative and calm. “Don’t take your hands off of it, Avery. Not unless I tell you to.”

I nod, swallowing on a dry throat. The arced perimeter of Plexi is topped by a broad strip of polished steel. I curl my fingers over it, holding on like I’ve been told. The short, swishy skirt of my dress flutters in the night breeze, tickling my thighs. Behind me, I feel a stirring of even cooler air as Nick backs away slightly.

“Spread your legs for me, baby.” He makes a low sound of approval when I comply. “Good girl. Now bend forward. Lower, baby . . . That’s it, all the way down. I want to see your fine ass and sweet pussy bared and ready for me. Ready for anything I want to do.”

Oh, God. My sex clenches at his erotic threat. I draw a shaky breath and try to glance over my shoulder at him. When his palm smacks my behind, I yelp at the unexpected shock of it, staggering a bit on my high-heeled sandals.

“Face forward, Ms. Ross.” His deep voice vibrates into my bones. “You earned this, remember?”

The lingering sting of his spank is a lick of flame on my ass, but his fingers are right there an instant later, skimming over me feather-light, soothing the bite. Shivers grip me in the wake of that teasing touch, and my pulse becomes a throb, one that seems rooted in my clit.

“You’re mine to torment now,” he reminds me. His caress dips lower, into the slick heat between my parted thighs. “I’ll tell you when you can move.”

Given no choice but to submit, I drop my head and wait breathlessly, eagerly, for the next morsel of pleasure—or pain—that he decides to grant me.

I moan when he dips two fingers inside me, plunging deep. He thrusts once, twice, a slow rhythm that drives me mad. I need more. To ease the ache, I need it harder and faster.

“Nick, please . . .”

“Please, what?”

He drives another finger into me, but it’s still not enough. “Fuck me.”

“Oh, baby.” He chuckles darkly, a sound so purely sexual I nearly come on the spot. “Don’t cry for mercy so soon. I’m not even close to finished with you yet.”

As if to demonstrate that this is punishment I volunteered for, he withdraws his fingers completely, ignoring my whimper of protest. My skirt is tossed up and over my back, exposing me fully from the waist down. His palms caress my ass cheeks, massaging them. Parting them in the instant before I feel the first wet flick of his tongue at my anus.

“Nick.” His name shudders out of me on a ragged gasp. It’s all I can do to remain standing as he licks and sucks and tongues my ass. I’m squirming helplessly, my muscles quivering from the arches of my spread feet to the tendons of my fingers clutched for dear life to the terrace railing.

My orgasm builds swiftly as he gathers me closer to his mouth and greedily feasts on me. When his fingers slide into my wetness to stroke my tender flesh, his thumb rolling over my clit in a demanding tempo, I can’t hold back my pleasured cry. My spine arcs, and a spasm shakes me. And suddenly I’m coming harder than I ever have, sensation pouring over me, racking me to the core.