He grasped her wrists and raised her arms over her head, pinning them against the musty mattress.
Sherrie gripped the edge of the futon, understanding he’d tied her down as effectively as if he’d used ropes.
She wasn’t to let go.
Her upraised arms lifted her breasts higher. They pressed against his hard chest, and her skin slid against his with a taste like dark chocolate. She arched up, wanting more of his body to cover hers. She needed him between her legs where dampness pooled like dew. If he didn’t fill her aching emptiness soon, she’d die.
“Fuck me,” she begged silently.
“When it’s time,” he replied inside her mind. The communication without words was much easier, but also soul-baring. He could see all of her mind. There was no place to hide her ravenous desire, no way to keep any reserve.
But she could feel his need too, growing by the moment. His cock ached to fill her as much as she wanted it inside her. That knowledge gave her power. She rubbed against his rigid shaft, making him groan.
Grant kissed her mouth once more before moving to her exposed throat. He pressed little kisses down the column and swept his tongue across the hollow where her pulse beat. His lips skated along her collar bones. When he reached the mark at the juncture of her neck and shoulder where John had bitten her, he paused and smoothed his tongue over it.
Sherrie caught her breath. She knew what was coming, felt his intention the moment before he bit down. Pain blossomed through her as he covered the mark John had made with a bite of his own. She cried out and gripped the futon frame hard as her body bowed up from the mattress.
Releasing her from his teeth, Grant again licked the spot in a cat’s caress then he abandoned her throat and moved farther down her body. Taking hold of her ankles, he spread her legs as wide as they could go on the narrow futon. Cool air brushed like feathers over her heated pussy, which grew even hotter under Grant’s examination. His gaze was intense as he explored her body. His fingertip traced her vulva before dipping between the swollen folds to sample her wetness. He slipped one long finger inside, circling her opening then reaching deep to touch a spot that made her jerk. Another finger followed and a third—
moving in and out, stretching her, teasing her, making her want more than just his fingers inside her.
After several thrusts, he left her entrance clenching around emptiness. He moved his slick fingers to her clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure, the perfect tickling motion until Sherrie was ready to purr from the sweet caress. Then he abruptly pinched the sensitized bud. Hot cinnamon exploded through her veins and she jerked.
Grant punished her pussy with hard, playful slaps followed by soothing strokes. He leaned down and lapped with his velvet tongue and soon had her writhing, but once more he stopped before she could come.
Sherrie was desperate for release, clinging hard to the futon frame, her body vibrating.
Her lover rose and took hold of her hands, pulling her up from the bed. He drew her against his big, hard body and wrapped his warm arms around her. She nestled against him for a moment and listened to the rumble in his chest. Was it fur or flesh she was pressed against? In this dream-plane he seemed to be both animal and man at the same time.
After a brief cuddle, he took her by the shoulders and turned her around. His large palm covered the back of her neck, pushing her head down. Now you will submit to me. The message in her mind was delivered in a growl that made her body ache to do exactly what he ordered.
Hands to your ankles, he commanded. Sherrie obeyed. She stooped low and grasped her ankles. Her hair tumbled around her face, her breasts pressed against her thighs and her buttocks lifted into the air. The vulnerable position made her melt inside. She stared at his bare feet on the floor behind her and quivered in anticipation of his touch. Her pussy lips were swollen and wetness dripped down her inner thighs. Would he grab her hips and enter her with one thrust or would he toy with her some more until she begged for him to fuck her?
A soft caress on her ass answered the question. He massaged her lower back and cupped her buttocks, squeezing and kneading gently. Just as she relaxed into his touch, he slapped his palm across both cheeks.
The sharp blow made her gasp and twitch. The man was a master at alternating pleasure and pain.
He spanked her again—right cheek then left, light taps and hard smacks. He changed the length of time in between so she wouldn’t know what to expect and sometimes he stopped to massage or kiss her tingling flesh. Raspberry blood coursed through her burnished ass and flooded her hanging head. Sherrie felt both figuratively and literally turned upside down.
Please, she sent her tormentor a silent plea. Please, do it now! I need. I want.