His Gift 3(10)

His hand came down with a hard clap on my ass. I squealed, writhing involuntarily with the pain of the blow. Then again, again.

I grabbed with my hands but there was nothing to grab, nothing except his leg. I held on for dear life as his hand came down, sending sharp echoes through the room that bounced off of the mirror and came back to my ears in reverberations that thrilled me almost as much as the real thing. The sound filled my ears, and I moaned along with it.

After only a minute of spanking, a minute that felt like an hour, I became aware of a threading feeling between my thighs. He would spank me hard, then run his fingers between my legs, grazing my slit.

I was already wet. I didn’t know when it had happened, but his fingers sliding over me spread my moisture over my folds, over my clit that was already pulsing with desire.

God, he could make me aroused so quickly. I didn’t know how, but the pain of the spanks sent equal shudders of pleasure through me, building the pressure inside. With every clap against my skin, explosions of red burst behind my eyelids and I cried out. I didn’t know if I was crying for him to stop or crying for him to spank me harder. By this point, I didn’t care.

His hand slid roughly between my thighs, kneading me with an ungentle touch. I squealed and grabbed again, tearing at the bedsheet hanging off of the side of the bed.

Jake tossed me onto the bed. I rolled out of his arms and landed on my hands and feet on the mattress. I was astonished at how strong he was, that he could pick me up like I was nothing. He stripped off his jacket and threw it onto the floor, then began to unbutton his shirt.

I squealed and tried to crawl away, but he was too fast. He grabbed my ankles with his hands and flipped me over bodily. I landed on the soft bed and clutched at the sheet as he dragged me to the edge.

“You’re making this terribly difficult,” he said. Without another word he plunged his tongue deep into me, his hands wrenching my thighs apart. I squealed as he thrust his tongue into me, bursts of pleasure exploding along my nerves. I couldn’t stop myself from raising my hips to meet him.

He sucked hard at my clit, then pulled away just as I was reaching release. His lips slid along my folds. Then sucked hard, then pulled away. It was impossible for me to know what was coming next, only that when I was on the edge of reaching pleasure, he didn’t give it to me.

I moaned and arched against the bed, needing him utterly.

“Please,” I moaned. “Please take me. Please—”

He jerked back his head and I cried out with need. I was hollow inside, desperately wanting him to fill me.

Instead, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me up, locking the handcuff around my wrist as he did so.

“Jake—”

I’d said his name before, but this time his eyes flashed with pain and I felt his hurt as though it were my own. How could a single word have so much power over him?

He said nothing as he grabbed my other hand and pulled it out, locking it in place. His hand pulled the chains, and I was jerked upright to my knees, my arms stretched out to the sides and slightly upward.

“Please, I won’t say it again,” I said. “I promise, I swear. I’ll swear on anything I won’t.”

I was babbling, needing to say anything to fill the silence. He couldn’t leave me like this, unfinished. He couldn’t. And yet, when he turned away, my words trailed off to nothing. I could see his hurt and it shamed me.

My heart sank as he turned away from me to the mirror. He looked up, and although his eyes saw me, they weren’t seeing me, and I wasn’t seeing him. Not really. We were both just reflections.

I panted, catching my breath, unwilling to move my gaze from his. I wanted him so badly, but I wanted more. I wanted to know why he was like this. I wanted to know him.

The real him.





Chapter Seven



“I’m sorry,” he said. His green eyes burned in the reflection of the dim light. His arms were tense at his sides, the muscles drawn tight against his skin.

“Sorry for what?” I asked.

“I can’t… I don’t know how to explain.”

He stared at the mirror. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was looking ahead into his own reflection with an accusatory stare.

“Does this have to do with your family?” I asked softly. I wanted to know. I needed to know. And at the same time, I was scared to ask. Scared that he might not let me into his private life.

Scared that he would.

“What do you know about them?”

I shook my head slightly.

“Nothing. Lucas mentioned it. When we were at the restaurant. He said I should ask you about it.”

A long, dreadful pause followed.

“My family is dead,” he said.