Page 60 of Long for Me
Crazy. He was driving me crazy with anticipation and when he finally touched me, it was with a gentle, swooping caress of his palm.
“Fuck,” I whispered, arching into him. I pulled my knees up, presented myself to him.
“Beautiful. You’re glorious. You have no idea what it does to me, to see you offer yourself to me like this.”
He had no idea what it did to me to have him talk to me like that. I couldn’t tell him, either.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Christ, Rebecca.” One more kiss to my ass and he shifted his weight. His hand came down.
Finally. The pain intense, I fought against it as I cried out. Pleasing him, wanting to hear that roughened voice of his so damn pleased with me, made me fight against fleeing.
Every hit landed in a different spot, random patterns I couldn’t predict until heat flooded my system, radiating from my ass to my toes and stealing all conscious thought from my brain.
“More, sir. Please.” I wiggled, arched into him, seeking more. Something. Him.
God, I needed him inside him.
Another spanking hit just beneath my ass. “You’re drenched,” he grunted. “I can see your wet pussy. You want more or you want me to fuck you?”
My mind scrambled. His words a tangled jumbled mess, but God I loved it.
This was wrong. Beautiful and right. The mess in my head kept me silent until he spanked me again.
I yelped from the sting of it. “Please, Bennett. Sir. Mr. Ashby. Please.”
“This?” The tip of his dick pushed against my entrance. He slid himself through my folds, to my clit where his finger pressed it while he tortured and teased. “You want this?”
“Yes.”
“Lift your hands to the top of the headboard.” I complied immediately. The promise of him too delightful to hesitate.
“There you go. Fuck, Rebecca. Your ass is red. I can’t decide whether to kiss it and make it better or fuck you.”
Both sounded superb. “Yes.”
His chuckle vibrated against my shoulder, quickly followed by his lips, kisses to heated skin. I’d lost my mind. If this was submission, I’d do whatever he said, whenever he wanted. He tempered the pain with patience and passion.
“When you come,” he said, his lips at my ear. “Scream Mr. Ashby. I’ve missed that falling from your sweet red lips.”
My blood was boiling. He spun me into his orbit and flung me out into the wild with no sense of reclaiming stability or direction. And yet, as he entered me, sheathed and hot and so freaking large it was a struggle to take him, I didn’t want it.
I flung away my stability and my safety and carefully ordered life in a heartbeat, in the time it took for him to hit the end of me. Nothing. Nothing would be as glorious as Bennett, nobody held the promise of anything more explosive or protective or so damn perfect for me.
His thrusts turned jagged. One of his hands held me at my hip, fingertips digging into sensitive and burning skin. He moved his other hand to my front, his fingers at my clit, his hand spanning my lower stomach. He held me to him, by fingers and his dick, took me with frenzy and when I came, I threw my head back, pressed it to his shoulder and shoved my lips to his throat.
I screamed his name like he’d commanded, unable and unwilling to do anything to bring him disappointment.
“Mr. Ashby!”
“Fucking hell,” he groaned. He rode out my orgasm, hips turned jagged and wild, grunts echoing in my ear.
Then his lips hit mine, forcefully, sucking the breath from my lungs while filling them at the same time. “Shit, Rebecca. So, so fucking good.”
He slammed inside, grunted. His dick twitched as he came and our lips fused together, both of us fighting for breath and me, my sanity.
