“Asher, please,” I beg.
His hand briefly leaves my face and I gasp when I feel an icy cold cube circling my left nipple. The fiery cold wanes to numbness as he continues to circle the tightened bud, before moving to the other to give it the same treatment.
“Tell me I own you, Alyse.”
“You know you do,” I pant.
“Every single part of you.” So many sensations are occurring at once, my brain is short-circuiting. Cool water drips down the inside of my dress from the melted cube. Fire rains in every nerve ending. My sex aches to the point I don’t think a dozen orgasms will relieve it. And when Asher dips a finger shallowly inside, I swear I almost come instantly. I moan so loudly I know people have to hear it. “My God, I love how wet you get for me,” he groans, running my arousal back and forth over my labia. “The words, baby.”
My entire body is screaming for release. I’d say I was blue and hailed from Mars if it got him to do something. “Yes, every part of me. Please fuck me with something. Anything. I’m begging you.”
“So perfect,” he murmurs.
He must decide I’ve had enough sensual torture, because when his fingers finally enter me, they draw the pearls tight against my engorged clit, giving me exactly what I need. And with only three thrusts in and out, my world implodes into bright lights and falling stars.
His name drops like a prayer from my lips. I shudder uncontrollably in his arms, warmth and pleasure racing up my spine, down to my toes. I’m barely coming down from the first when another is upon me. Over the course of the next few minutes, Asher forces so many orgasms from me, each sharper and harder than the previous, I’m dotted in sweat and every limb is weak. My muscles feel almost atrophied I’m so wrung out.
As Asher shifts to unzip his pants, I faintly register voices getting closer. I should shut my legs, but I don’t. I should jump up and close the curtain, but I can’t. The only thing I can do is beg him to ease my internal ache with his cock, just as he vowed.
Now.
Voyeurs be damned.
Positioning us on our knees, he wraps my hands around the back of the wide leather bench for leverage, pulling my hips back so I’m completely open to him and anyone else who cares to walk by. My dress is pulled halfway up my back and my breasts are dangling free. “Whatever you do, baby, don’t let go,” he roughly commands in my ear.
Starting at my shoulders, he runs a hand all the way down the center of my spine, over my bare ass, lightly kneading. I can feel his eyes burning a path down my exposed flesh, heat seeping into each pore. I hear him whisper, “I love this perfect ass. Christ, you are an absolute vision like this.”
When his touch leaves me, I expect him to spread me and slide in, so I am not at all prepared for that hand to come back down with a hard thwack on my right cheek, spreading fire directly to my already drenched core. I squeal and jump, but his other hand steadies me, fingers gripping tight.
“Hang on,” his gravelly voice demands.
“Ahhh,” I cry out as he does it again and again, never too soft, never too hard, striking a different spot every time, making sure to cover each cheek thoroughly. With each slap, I feel the beads running up my center shift, rubbing against my back entrance and engorged clit. The sensation is heady, like nothing else I’ve ever experienced.
The smacks he’s raining stop suddenly and my entire body is on fire with want, all of it radiating from my middle. I have never been this turned on before. Who the hell knew a spanking could be so erotic?
He runs a single finger down the entire length of my spine, not stopping until he’s reached my sopping pussy, pushing inside with embarrassing ease. My need is spread across my inner thighs, clearly evident.
“My God, you love this, Alyse. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” I moan. My hips are moving in time with the thrust of his finger, but it’s not enough. I need him. All of him.
He withdraws his wet digit, feathering it slowly back up the path he took earlier, taking a slight detour to rim my puckered flesh before continuing, leaving behind my trail of desire.
“Shit,” I curse low and long.
“I love your ass this shade of pink, baby. You ready to be fucked hard?”
“God, yes. Please. Now.”
“Such sweet begging,” he croons. “Makes me so damn hard.”
He positions himself against my drenched opening, dick tugged snuggly between the twin strings of beads and roughly enters me. I cry out sharply with each pounding thrust as worshipping words pull me further and further under his sensual enchantment.
He leans into me, front flush with my back. Fingers of one hand fisting my hair, the others digging into my hip, he drives into me so brutally I’m lifted with each pump of his hips. The scrape of his pants only heightens my sensitivity more. When supple lips find the curve of my neck and sharp teeth bite, like he’s marking me as his, I detonate.