What He Desires(10)

I felt like I was hanging on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall off and head down into the canyon below. I felt like I could save myself if I just knew what to say.

You do know what to say.

I swallowed. “I need to be punished,” I said softly.

He raised his chin, his eyes questioning.

“I should have trusted you,” I said, reaching out and touching his arm softly. “I want to trust you.”

He opened the door and I slipped inside.

He shut the door and locked it, the click of the bolt echoing through the silent room. I thought of the waiters and waitresses out there, coming back to our table to see if we needed anything else. They’d find Noah and I gone, our table a mess of spilled wine and disheveled silverware.

They’ll know you’re in the bathroom with him.

I wondered if he’d brought other women in here, if the waiters and waitresses would be surprised to know what we were doing, or if they’d think it was normal.

But I took those thoughts and wrestled them to the ground, pushing them out of my mind. If I thought too hard about what I was doing, I wasn’t going to do it.

And I was sick of thinking. Right now all I wanted to do was feel.

Noah stood with his back to the door, his arms crossed over his broad chest. And then, suddenly, so quick I wasn’t even sure it was happening, he was on me, lifting me up and setting me down on the counter that ran the length of the room. He pushed his mouth into mine, his tongue entering my mouth, his hands grabbing at my hair.

He kissed me hungrily, his mouth searching, looking for answers neither one of us could give.

When he finally broke away, his eyes were blazing with determination and anger.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

I stood up and he ran his hands up under my sweater and over my breasts. He pulled my sweater up and over my head, then lowered his mouth to my neck. He kissed me softly, his tongue sliding over my collarbone and over my cleavage, moving down over my stomach until he got to the top of my jeans.

He undid the buttons, sliding the zipper down slowly, so slowly I was afraid he was going to stop. He pulled the denim off my legs, his hands stroking my skin as he went, leaving goose bumps in their wake.

When I was in just my bra and panties, he backed away from me, his eyes raking up my body. Then he grabbed me around the waist, pushed me up against the hard tile of the bathroom wall and kissed me again. His hands grabbed at my ass, his pelvis grinding into mine.

I could feel his cock, hard through his pants, and I pushed myself against him, rubbing his dick, feeling my panties get wet. The friction was almost too much to bear, and the feel of his tongue in my mouth and his hands on my ass while I dry fucked him almost made me come.

But he pulled away.

“Get on your knees,” he growled. He pulled his sweater over his head, tossed it on the ground.

I did as I was told.

“Look at me.”

I looked up at him, at that gorgeous body of his, toned pecs and washboard stomach and the planes of his body, all fit and lean and sexy as all hell. How do you exist? I wondered. How does someone as beautiful as you even exist?

He reached down, gathering my hair in his hands before yanking my head back roughly, his index finger trailing over my lips and into my mouth.

“Please,” I moaned.

“Please what?”

“Please, I want to suck your cock.” I went to grab for the front of his pants, but he pushed my hands away.

“Beg for it.”

“Please,” I said. “Please, I want your cock in my mouth, I want it in my face, I want to suck you.” The words were dirty and degrading, the kind of thing I never could have imagined myself saying. But now they were charged with meaning and excitement, and I wanted him so badly, I would have done anything he wanted.

“Stand up, Charlotte,” he said.

I stood up.

“Turn around.”

I turned around.

“Slower.”

I turned around slower, letting him look at my body. This time, as I turned around, he reached out and slapped my ass. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small length of stretchy rope, his eyes glinting with desire.

“What is that?” I asked, my heart pounding with fear and arousal.

“Put your arms above your head,” he instructed, ignoring my question.

I hesitated for just a second, and was rewarded with another spank on my ass, this one harder than the last. My backside was sore from where he’d spanked me earlier, in his kitchen, and these new slaps stung even more. The pain pulsed through my flesh, swirling with my desire to create the most pleasurable sensation I’d ever felt in my life.

I put my hands over my head and he pushed his body up against mine and threaded the rope around my hands, twisting it around the hook on the back of the door.