Page 59 of Crave Me
“Good.” His fingers brushed against the backs of my thighs, the curve where ass met leg. It took everything in me to remain still and pliant for him. I focused on my goal—pleasing him. “Spread your legs wider, let me see you dripping for me.”
I listened and he rewarded me by grazing his fingers over my clit.
“Oh,” I moaned, so into the feel of him, the hope of him driving deep inside me.
He pinched my clit, ran his fingers through my slit with his other hand. He worked me over until stars shone behind my closed lids. When I trembled for him, my pussy slick and my body more than ready, he pulled back.
“Wait,” he commanded. “You will not come until I tell you.”
Movement flickered out of the corner of my eye. He bent down and pulled his belt through his pants, snapping it twice into the air.
I sighed at the sound. “Please.”
Leather on my ass. Everything he said earlier was true. I needed the trust and reverence and the feeling of being cherished. Leather wielded by a man who fit all of those things for me enthralled me. The sharp sound of leather snapping into the air sent my senses on overdrive and I tensed, waiting for the first slap against my bared skin.
“Relax,” he said. The first brush of his belt shocked me. The cool leather brushed against my ass before he glided it through pussy lips and down my inner thighs.
My knuckles stung from gripping the couch, but my shoulders relaxed and I melted further into the couch.
“You’ll count for me,” he said. “We’ll start with eight strokes and you’ll let me know how you’re doing. Understand?”
I nodded against the couch, my throat too dry for me to speak. His hand came down on my backside, hard and punishing.
“Ow! Yes, sir. I’ll count, sir.”
“Good.”
He landed the first strike. Fire roared through my body, starting at my upper thigh where he’d struck and spreading out.
Holy shit damn!
“One!” I cried, tears welling in my eyes. I pinched them shut so the tears didn’t fall. His hand brushed against the hot skin he’d just marked. He massaged the area and the pain shifted, rolled to a deep ache.
“One what?”
“One, sir.” I was going to fail at this. The pain was intense, yet as he continued rubbing my flesh with his hand, the pain dissolved into something else. It ignited my nerves, calmed my racing heart and thundering pulse.
“I’m going to continue, now, Chloe. Don’t forget, if it becomes too much, yellow for me to pause and red to stop.”
I nodded against the now warmed couch cushions. Releasing my hands, hoping it didn’t earn me another punishment, I stretched and flexed my fingers while I took a large, shuddering breath.
“Yes, sir. I’m ready, sir.”
He moved swiftly, landing another strike against the opposite side of me.
“Two, sir,” I bit out between gritted teeth. Already, sweat beaded at my temples, the heat no less intense than the first strike. I relaxed despite the instinct to flinch. It would only make the next strikes more painful.
He slapped me again and I counted, screamed the number into the air, and as he waited, rubbed my ass and then my wet pussy with his fingers, I shivered wildly.
“You’re liking it. It hurts, but you love this, being whipped, trusting me.”
“Yes, sir,” I moaned. His fingers inside me moved quickly, the sharp, sweet scent of leather against flesh lingered in the air. He pumped me with his fingers and struck me again, doubling the sensations.
I continued counting, continued trying not to come as he rubbed the rigid flesh inside of me, but all of it was so much.
He reached seven and I counted like he’d commanded, my pussy clenching around his fingers deep inside me.
“Please, sir,” I chanted. “Please Simon, I need to come.”
