“No,” she whispered.
Understanding filled him. “Perfect. Now, what would be a suitable punishment for a naughty girl who is wearing panties when she’s not allowed to? Hmm?”
“An orgasm.”
He grinned, and from the look on her face she could see the evil tint to his smile.
“Oh, an orgasm, huh?”
Why the heckhad she suggested an orgasm as punishment?
Was she insane?
She tugged at her restraints as he ate her pussy out. She had lost track of the number of orgasms she’d had. All she knew was that she was done. She couldn’t take anymore.
And then another one raced through her, making her cry out. She tried to keep her voice down, not wanting to alarm her babies.
Matthieu kept lapping at her pussy, bringing her down gently.
He started kissing his way back up her body, thankfully leaving her poor pussy alone. Then his mouth touched hers, his tongue slipping inside to play with hers.
She could taste herself on his lips, but it wasn’t gross. No, it was weirdly a turn-on. She moaned, opening up beneath the kiss, wanting more.
Maya tugged on her restraints again, wanting to touch him. Frustration and arousal warred inside her. On the one hand, she liked being tied to the bed. On the other hand, she wanted to run her hands all over him.
She wasn’t sure where the rope tying her hands to the headboard had even come from, but he’d tied her up expertly.
And now she was reaping what she’d sowed.
Lying on his side next to her, he reached down and cupped her pussy. Another whimper escaped.
“No more,” she croaked. “I can’t take anymore.”
That’s not your safeword, though.
No, it wasn’t. Because she was pretty sure she could take more.
Maybe.
“Poor Spitfire, you don’t have to take more,” he said as he sat up and untied her, rubbing her arms as the blood rushed through. “At least, not right now.” He picked her up. “Let’s get you showered and dressed. Then it’s time for dinner.”
“I don’t wanna eat. Want to sleep.”
“Nope. You’re eating first. No sleep yet.”
Darn it. He was so mean sometimes.
It seemedthat she wasn’t allowed to walk anymore.
After her shower, he’d dressed her in a short, flowy dress. It was a pale lavender that she normally wouldn’t wear.
But she wasn’t in charge right now.
And that dress was the only thing he put on her. No panties. No bra.
Then he picked her up once more and carried her into the kitchen, sitting her on the counter.
“Stay there while I cook,” he ordered as she went to climb down.
