I gasped and shifted a little, trying in vain to get away from the harsh contact.
Why does his hand hurt so much more than the riding crop? I wondered. He must have been holding back a lot before. But he wasn’t holding back now.
I lost track of the number of quick-fire slaps, my mind going into a kind of numb state that was all too familiar but seemed to be changing inexorably into something else…
He hadn’t even paused in the blows when I heard him gasp and curse. Suddenly, he was shoving into me, burying himself to the hilt with one brutal stroke. I was so wet that it didn’t hurt, and I clenched deliciously around him. The fullness felt overwhelming for a moment, though, and I screamed, a sound that none of his slaps had solicited from me.
I was in an oasis of pleasure amidst all of the pain as he started pumping inside of me relentlessly. He worked hard at it, my tight passage fighting him with it’s involuntary clenching.
He grabbed my hair with both fists, pulling my head up as he thrust.
“Come,” he said in the roughest voice I’d ever heard out of him. His cock dragged along just the perfect spot as he pulled out of me, and I came with a scream. He didn’t stop, didn’t even pause, grinding against me with ragged, intoxicating gasps.
He brought me to orgasm twice more before I felt him emptying inside of me with a harsh groan. He leaned along my back, covering me completely, his mouth at my ear. He was still thrusting in a small motion inside of me, even spent, as though he couldn’t stop.
“My Bianca,” he whispered into my ear raggedly.
He lay on top of me like that for long minutes, still buried inside of me, his lips against my neck now, kissing me softly. He seemed to have exercised all of that cold fury out of his body, and I was left again with the tender lover.
He lifted himself from me eventually, examining me with light fingers. My thighs and butt were sore to the touch. He fingered my sex, wet now from both of us.
“Tender?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
“No, Mr. Cavendish,” I answered from my sightless position. He thrust two fingers inside of me.
I wriggled and gasped.
“I wonder how many times I could make you come in one night,” he mused idly. “You’re such a hair trigger. I’d test you, but I think you’d pass out before you asked me to stop.”
I thought he might be right.
He spread something cool and soothing along every part of me that he had hit, applying it with the softest touch.
He untied me eventually, and I lay there passively until he turned me onto my back, pulling my blindfold off.
He arranged me on my back, even fanning my hair out above me, staring at me with the softest eyes, a stark contrast to those glacial eyes that had studied me coldly when we’d entered the room. “You’re an exquisite angel, Bianca. I’ve never touched anything so fine in my life.”
My eyes were growing heavy as he bent down and kissed me reverently on the forehead. He was still fully dressed, with just his slacks undone.
“Now go to sleep, Love.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Mr. Tender-Lover
I awoke as James pushed inside of me. He had my wrists clasped in his hands and pinned above my head. Our naked chests rubbed together and he was kissing me softly and sweetly, murmuring endearments. I was wet and so aroused that he slipped into my tight passage smoothly.
“Morning, Love.” He smiled against my mouth.
“Mmmm,” was the best reply I could get out of my throat. “Ahhh,” followed quickly.
He moved so slowly inside of me, stroking with long, hard strokes that seemed to go on forever. “I want to wake up like this every morning,” he murmured between kisses.
“Mmmm. I could get used to this,” I mumbled back, gasping as he withdrew, dragging along my most sensitive nerves.
“Good. I want you to,” he said with a smile. “Get. Used. To. This.” He said, thrusting to drive home each word.
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he told me.
I did and he thrust hard, making new nerves quiver inside of me. His beautiful eyes were glued to mine, intense and tender.
“You’re so beautiful,” he told me. “Your eyes change color. I swear they’re almost green this morning. Have I told you yet today how perfect you are?”
“First he’s sour, then he’s sweet,” I murmured back to him, quoting an old line from a commercial about sour candies.
He laughed, then began kissing me passionately.
I felt like I was drowning. I was too inexperienced to resist such a seduction. He wanted all of me, even my emotions, and in spite of myself, he was getting it.
I felt things as I looked into his intense gaze that I hadn’t thought to feel for anyone, let alone someone I’d met just over a week ago.