by Maren Smith
“Look at me, Florrie dove,” he rumbled, soft as a predator’s purr.
Every one of those prickling nerves now strained just to be touched by him. Her stomach turned molten. Her knees went weak. She wanted to laugh at herself for being this stupid and this silly, but her throat constricted and what came peeping out of her barely qualified as a squeak. “No, thank you.”
“No? But you came down all this way. Surely you were looking for something. If not me, then what? The loo?”
She shook her head. She’d come in here fully intending to tell him that she wasn’t staying. That she refused to be anyone’s burden. That she was going to go to the police and, come what may then, she was going to stop being afraid. She’d even rehearsed exactly how she meant to tell him all that, using calm rationale and enough sound reason not to end up turned back across his knee. But damn if she could remember one word of what she’d practiced upstairs.
Her pussy was twitching, a rhythmic pulse that kept time with the throbbing desire now spreading through her warming loins, consuming her womb, her belly, her breasts, moving up through her heart and branching out now to light all the rest of her in a bonfire of desire she couldn’t bear to admit existed.
“Water’s still warm if you want a bath.”
“No,” she quavered, still squeaking. “No, thank you.”
“It’s been a long day. A good soak might be just the thing to help you relax. I’m no lady’s maid, but I’ve washed me a back or two. Come, get in the tub.”
Tickling laughter born of nothing but nerves bubbled up like panic inside her. “Like I’d ever take my clothes off in front of you.”
She didn’t turn around to look, but she could sense the wolfishness of his smile in the growing itch still burrowing into her back.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Her face flamed almost as hot as the desire licking up through the lips of her sex. “I didn’t take them off then, either!”
“I’ll avert my eyes,” he promised.
“Ha!” she barked, the laugh at last breaking free.
The whispered padding of his bare feet crossed the floor straight to her. Her nerves were singing, every inch of her humming like a live wire, and he hadn’t touched her yet.
“Are you afraid?” he mused, the warm caress of his breath brushing the slope of her neck. The smell of his soap was so much stronger now. Was he still naked? Probably. There had been no pause in his approach or the soft rustle of cloth to suggest he’d picked up either clothes or a towel. “You’re trembling.”
She shivered. “No, I’m not.”
The amusement was back in his voice when he said, “You’re lying too.” A low breathy chuckle and earth-shattering desire followed the caress of his fingertips as he caught a stray wisp of her hair and pulled it back, baring the curve of her neck. “Don’t be afraid of me, dovey. I’ll not hurt you, I promise.”
Her knees nearly went out from under her when the burning heat of his lips touched the nape of her neck.
“I don’t want you trembling because of me.” Promise darkened the heady desire in his tone. “I want you trembling for me, and I’ll have you that way, yeah? Turn, pet. Let me see you.”
Every bone in her body weakened to the temptation of that low, rumbling request. Turn? Her trembling intensified. Turning around so he could see her meant she would also see him and she already knew she wasn’t going to be strong or in control of herself enough to keep her eyes glued to his face. Oh hell, no. If she took her gaze off this door, within a blink, she would have it locked on what lay between his powerful thighs.
“Turn,” he coaxed.
She jumped at the touch of his big hands gliding down the length of her arms to settle on her waist. She couldn’t do this… No, scratch that. She absolutely could do any number of the enticements currently playing in her mind. What mattered was that she shouldn’t do it. The need to avoid this intimacy burned in her every bit as brightly as her lust. She pressed both hands to her abdomen, but no matter how hard she pushed, she could not extinguish the hunger. Not even enough to get herself back to thinking straight. Certainly not enough to resist it when his hands applied gentle pressure, coaxing her to obedience.
At the last second, Florrie closed her eyes.
“Coward,” he rumbled.
“No, I’m not,” she shot back, turning her face away from the caress of his breath, afraid his lips might caress her cheek. Deep down, she knew she’d never be able to resist that.
“Look at me.”
“No.” She turned her face even further away.
The heat of his mouth found the line of her jaw, burning the soft skin as he followed it in seductive pursuit of her quarrelsome lips. “Tell me to let you go, then. Who knows, I might do it.”
Her hands found his arms, his biceps under her fingers flexing once at her touch. She locked her jaw before she said the first instinctive thing that shot to her clamped lips. Another no, this one in total contradiction to the first. She didn’t want him to let her go. In every desperately aching part of her body, she didn’t want that.
“Please,” she whispered instead, a tiny traitorous wisp of a word that slipped past her quavering guard before she could stop it.
She didn’t think she’d moved, but the hard plank of the door bumped her back. Draven felt even harder leaning into her, sparse drops of water still beading on his chest and shoulders, soaking now into her torn dress. The small dark peaks of his nipples pebbled hard against her. Her own ached in response, frantic for a return of his touch. His kiss. The brush of a plucking fingertip gently squeezing just like his hands were doing now, molding his grip to her hips and her buttocks, alternating between massaging caresses and the occasional pat. It reminded her strongly of the spanking he’d delivered before. Only now she remembered it as sensation alone, the overwhelmingness of his touch and the burn that had followed. That burn reignited, becoming something hungry and alive inside her skin, but without any pain.
Her back arched, her breasts, belly and loins all seeking whatever contact with him could be found. He pressed closer too, seemingly seeking the same.
“Please?” he echoed. “Please what? Please stop? Please continue? What breed of please, my lovely Florrie, do you want of me?”
He was looking at her mouth when he said it; the caress of his breath was right there on her lips. She licked them, and he slipped closer yet. His thighs brushed hers, the intoxicating bulge of his cock digging in just above her mons, easily felt through all the layers of her clothing. The pulse of his heartbeat throbbed into her pressed breasts, and her own thundered back.
“There are so many reasons not to want this,” Draven said, but he wasn’t pulling away.
“Yes,” Florrie breathed. She wasn’t pulling away, either. The heady throb of wanton hunger centered in all the right places, the tips of her nipples, the core of her sex. Pulling away was the last thing she ached for. Lifting her chin, on the other hand, was everything.
For him too, it seemed, because he wasted no time catching her ass in his hands and her lips beneath his. Passion and delight, heat and hunger. They lit her up with an attraction so consuming that everywhere he touched her felt sparkles under her skin.
His weight pinned her to the door as he kissed her, but she barely felt the wood at her back. She felt his shoulders instead, clinging to him for balance and stability because her weakening knees refused to hold her. But then, her feet were no longer on the floor, so maybe that didn’t matter. Her hands tangled in his long hair as she combed her fingers through the damp tendrils. She touched his face, his stubble-rough chin prickling her palms while his fingers dug into the backs of her thighs, prizing them apart as the full bulge of his cock pressed unapologetically against her.
She had to touch it, hold it, grip the length and swell of it in the hot palm of her hands. God, even her mouth was watering for a taste, but Draven was too intent on taking the tastes he was hungry for.
His lips nev
er left hers and his hands were never still. He pinned her to the door as they wandered her, needing to touch everywhere at once. When she slid her hands down his bare chest, feeling the hard planes of his pecs, the peaks of his nipples, and the ripples of his ribs, he hooked the folds of her skirts, working the fabric up until it was bunched in rolls about her waist and at last he could get his touch underneath. And always his mouth was right there, devouring her nipping, hungry kisses. Breath after shaky breath. Bare skin to damp, clean, soap-smelling skin.
“Say you want me,” he ordered, the fully erect length of him prodding in search of her heated core, sliding along the furrow of her pussy until he lodged in her wetness.
Florrie gasped. Abandoning his shoulders, she grabbed his ass instead, wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled with all her might, impaling herself upon him one glorious inch at a time until she could draw him into her no further. His groan was both their victories. Her pleasure was the friction of his hips as he withdrew only to sink back into her, deep but slow, filling her so completely that there was no room inside her for him and her next breath too.
“I want you,” she whispered as he sank back inside her. “Please, I want you…”
Yanking her off the door, he swatted her ass even as he turned and down they went, a controlled fall that wasn’t quite gentle when he laid her on the floor. Heels digging into the floorboards, she arched to meet his next thrust, only to have him withhold all further movements.
She dug her nails into his arms and shoulders, even clawing his back in her fight to bring him back. Catching her wrists, he pinned them to the floor above her head.
In the tangles of her own hair, he held them there while she grunted and panted, struggling either to break away or intensify the fucking motions he now withheld. The more she strained, the further he withdrew until, finally, their bodies parted. No longer inside her, he loomed over her, his rigid cock standing straight and proud, with dewy drops of pre-cum welling from the mushroom tip.
His gaze burned into her hot as the devil, and certainly his were not the hands of an angel when he clasped between her legs, taking pinching ownership of her clit as if it belonged to him. And always had.
“Say you want me,” he repeated, only this time it sounded more like a warning than an erotic request.
“I want more,” she demanded instead.
His mouth curled. Her whole body jumped when he slapped, swatting her pussy with the flat of his hand. The sting was incredible, the pleasure behind it absolute. Of their own accord, her legs spread wider as his thumb found her clit and pressed it flat to her pubic bone. The pressure was incredible and beyond holding still for.
“Say it.”
Her breath caught. It fluttered in her chest like a bird in a cage. “I want you.”
He moved his fingers, slipping one up into the wetness of her folds and sinking it all the way to his palm. “Again,” he growled, bending to lay a string of hot kisses like a necklace around her throat. The last of them lingered on her cut.
“I want you,” she gasped, and he rose over her. Every inch of her responded in delight as she felt the glide of his cock replace his retreating fingers. He pinned her wrists to the floor with bruising force but she bucked up into his thrust anyway. “I want you!”
Her nerves were on fire, all of them flaring hot in response to the rhythmic lunging of his body. She couldn’t get her arms around him, but her legs wrapped him. She locked her ankles, digging her heels into his ass while she savored every bump, grind and thrust. They were one body, one passion, one burning light there on the floor of his backroom. Bathed in nothing but the glow of the fire peeking through the grate of a potbelly stove. Awash in the trembling of her own limbs as she shook to the rocking force of his thrusts. Shook and shook, arching and begging and crying it over and over, “I want you!”
He didn’t even need to ask. His eyes said everything about his need to hear it.
She needed it too. She needed to say it, and hear it, and feel it in the bulge and strain of his muscular back as he pumped with steadily increasing vigor, the hup-hup-hupping impact of each slap battering between her legs, the bump of his balls against her buttocks and the reach of his wondrous cock as it touched her in places she didn’t think she’d ever been touched. Because surely a girl would remember this. No matter what else happened to her in her life, surely a girl would remember this.
Pure pleasure caught her in its swirling grip, cradling her in the arching, grinding convulsions that seized her as her flesh locked around him, caressing beyond her ability to accept not one sensation more and yet unable to stop him from giving her just exactly that. More. Stroke after stroke, until something broke and the swells of her orgasm ripped through her.
She shouted. So did he, slamming deep into her one final time, every inch of him taut and straining, and shaking now every bit as fiercely as she was.
He looked down at her. “I want you too, dove,” he said through heavy panting. Just hearing it made her body come again, a pale echo of what had just passed and fed by the friction of his softening cock sliding back out of her. The abandonment as they became two people once more was almost painful.
“More,” she begged, wanting anything but for the intimacy to end.
Breathless, Draven rolled onto his back beside her. “I do believe… I’m going to need… a minute.” His chest rose and fell as he sucked for air. “Maybe two.”
Florrie didn’t wait well. He startled when she rolled to climb on top of him, though that startlement quickly melted back into rousing hunger once she straddled his hips.
“Go on,” she dared. “Sleep if you want to. Never mind me. I’ll just be quietly taking charge until you’re ready.”
“You will, will you?” Grinning, he swatted the side of her bottom sharp enough to make her yelp. “How do you think that’ll work for you, luv?”
As aroused as she still was, that lingering sting did things to her she never would have thought a slap of any kind capable of. “Don’t do that,” she told him, her hips grinding over the stirring of his once-more hardening cock.
“Don’t do what?” he knowingly challenged, smacking the side of her bottom a second time.
Her body jolted; her pussy sang.
“Don’t spank you?” He smacked her, harder now.
Her pussy spasmed. Grabbing his wrist, she forced herself to still upon the minute squirming of her hips atop of his. Her clit pulsed and throbbed.
“Only one of us wears the britches in this house, my dove,” he said, eyes half closed, his handsome mouth smiling as he reached up to give a lock of her hair a playful tug. He did the same to the peak of her nipples, which only responded by budding into peaks once more. “Every time you start to think it’s you, I’ll be happy to correct your thinking.”
“I don’t think I like it,” she said, though she was pretty sure that might be a lie.
A corner of his mouth quirked. “I wouldn’t be doing me job right if you did.”
Her clit throbbed hotter, harder as she confessed, “I think I might like it a little bit.” She shivered at his rumbling chuckle. His stiff cock bumped and nudged at her.
“Wouldn’t be doing me job right if you didn’t.” He gave her nipples a gentle tweak. “Let’s test how ‘little’ you like it, yeah?”
Florrie never noticed the soft bump at the tiny back window where the divide between the off-white curtain halves split apart. She was too lost in the sensations that assailed her when he drew her down to take the rosy tip of her breast into his mouth. He swatted her with both hands now, his big hands settling the whole of her bottom to stinging before grabbing her cheeks to prize her open in what was at once the most sinfully delightful and yet horribly shameful way anyone had ever touched her.
“No,” she gasped, but there was no sincerity in it. Not even when his fingers slid down the valley of her buttocks, finding the dusky rim of her anus.
“Shall I take you here, yeah?” he dared her.
“No?” He rumbled another laugh. “I’m going to have you here.” He added another finger, sinking two into her now. More than a gasp, this time he won a moan from her. “Let’s see how it takes before you’re begging me to do it.”
When that soft bump at the window became a crash against both the house and the fence, she didn’t know either. She never heard it. She was too preoccupied with the stinging swats he used until she obeyed his unspoken command to crawl further up the length of him until she was straddling his head.
“Next time you come, it’ll be with my cock pounding your arse or not all. Disobey this, and it’ll be the cane for you, yeah?”
“Oh!” Her whole body locked onto the first hot lash of his tongue, sweeping up through the folds of her sex, guiding his lips to her clit. “Ooooh.”
No thought was spared to anything else. Not the sounds in the backyard. Not anything. Only his mouth, and his fingers, and her own shaking as he sucked and licked and thrust his way to her inevitable capitulation. He had three fingers in her before he won it, and he was right. Her next orgasm came with his cock opening her so wide, and sinking so impossibly deep that she doubted if she’d ever be able to breathe again.
