I’d never showered so efficiently and speedily in my life.
I returned to the bottom of the stairwell, shivers racing along my arms both at the view of Dean still reading on the couch, and the rope I held in such a tight grip in my hand that the coils dug into my palm. The last week between us had been close, and Dean had been my rock—but with the almost two weeks he’d been gone before that, it’d been such a long time since we’d played the way we both loved. I’d been naked all over this house, but crossing the floor to him now, knowing what was to come, had me wet when I came to face him in the living room.
I stopped directly in front of Dean’s knees. He peeked over the top of his paper at me, his eyes raking from my face to the tops of my breasts and lowering when he tipped the paper down a few inches to clear his view. He was obviously doing his best to torture me, given the hint of a smirk he revealed before going right back to his reading, and standing naked in front of him while he remained clothed had the hairs on my arms standing up in anticipation.
Fortunately, I knew how to get his attention.
I dropped to my knees, then shuffled on the carpet until my breasts pressed flush to the rough texture of his jeans. After resting the rope on the seat of the couch beside him, I slid my palms up Dean’s thighs and straight to his pelvis, where I started to unfasten his jeans.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting what I need,” I said, slowing my words and using the sultriest voice I could muster.
Dean took his time folding the paper while I undid the button of his fly and half the length of his zipper. After he tossed the paper to the other end of the couch, he propped his elbow on the armrest and tilted his cheek against his thumb and forefinger. “And what’s that?”
He didn’t stop me from pressing my breasts up on his thighs, my face close enough to his crotch that he had to feel the heat of my breath when I parted the sides of his jeans. He wasn’t wearing underwear like he sometimes didn’t, and I blew air over his semi-erect length. “Your cock.”
“Mmm. Show me how you need it, then.” My nipples peaked with the low tone of his voice. I’d missed that, him, the subtle squint of his eyes while he waited to see if I’d follow his instruction—but there was no question. I complied, my mouth over him in half a second as a moan escaped my throat. I ran my tongue along his length and tried to part his jeans farther for better access, and Dean cupped his hand over the back of my head, using the slightest pressure to goad me on that made me squeeze my knees together. The swell of my clit had reached unbearable, and we’d only started. Dean inhaled when I struggled to free the entirety of his cock, because I wanted my lips down to the root of him but couldn’t get there with the block of his jeans. I sucked hard and lifted my fingertips to his waistband before Dean caught my hands and clasped them together against his chest. “Not yet, kitten.”
I dragged my mouth up and down, the taste of him rapidly overcoming my every thought, and the friction of my lips along his delicious shaft making me pine for whatever he had planned for me. While I worked, Dean’s breath increased slightly. But he kept his cool, reaching for the rope and starting to unravel it over my head.
“Here’s what I’m thinking.” His voice trembled with my attempts to overwhelm him. I sometimes could, but he held firm, and I wished he didn’t hold my hands in place so I could wrap one around him. “I’m going to use this rope you’ve chosen—an excellent pick, by the way—to get you right where you need to be. Then we’re going to address that out-of-line sassiness from last night.” He caught my chin and forced up my head, and I made a desperate slurping sound with the pop of my mouth off of him. “Then, no more gentle. I’m going to fuck you, Maya, like you need to be fucked.”
My heart battered inside my chest, every inch of my skin eager, waiting. Aching. “Yes, please.”
Dean patted his thigh. “Get up here.”
I scurried off the floor, and he shuffled to leave room for my knee between the couch arm and his thigh as I straddled him. When I rested my wrists on his shoulders, Dean gazed between my thighs and up to my face.
“You’re going to make a mess of my jeans.”
“Am I?” I asked innocently, but my cheeks burned hot.
Dean’s response was the trace of one finger along the split of my pussy lips. My eyelids fluttered with the tease of his tip inside. Then he traced the rim of my entrance in a circle that had me hoisting my shoulders up.
“You’re like silk,” he said, sneaking his finger knuckle deep and taking it away. “Give me your hands.”
I held them up between us, pressing my pinkies together and trying to resist the urge to sink farther down with a grind against his jeans. My clit ached, and my stomach filled with butterflies. I craved more touch. The weaves he made of the rope around my wrists happened to scrape against my breast, and arousal shot through my core. The flicker in Dean’s eyes at my heavy exhalations each time told me these moments weren’t accidental, and I loved it—the grit of the rope coiling around my wrists, the rub of each strand along my skin and the warm stroke of his fingertips as he worked. The view of his cock wasn’t hurting either, full and hard, tempting me to cave and writhe in his lap. The tension in my belly coiled tight, and it consumed my focus until I had no choice but to do it again, harder.
Dean inhaled sharply, tucking the loose end of the rope under the coils around my wrists and tugging to show he had me tight. The move jarred my senses in a blaze of desire that shot through each of my limbs. When Dean dropped the rope, he held my waist in his hands before dragging his fingers up my sides and over my breasts. He took one solid pinch of my nipple to make me gasp, then shifted to gather my hair behind my head. He grasped it in a ponytail that he put the perfect amount of pressure on, and I rocked my hips again.
“You’re all riled up, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathed. It was amazing how quickly he could do this to me, how when he kept one hand around my hair and teased the other down between my folds again, I couldn’t stop the gust of air pouring from my throat in an achy moan. “Touch me.”
“I am.”
“More.”
“Like this?” Dean tipped two fingers up and tunneled them halfway inside. I bobbed my head as best as I could against his grip in my hair. It didn’t leave me much freedom to move, and I squeezed my knees against the outside of his thighs, tantalized by the charge that stormed my body. I’d missed this.
“I cannot wait to feel you, but first...” Dean snatched his fingers away and I pouted, but he used his hold on my hair to guide me to the side until I slid off his lap and landed my ass on the couch. When he held up the strand of rope leading off my wrists, he smiled. “Good thing you picked the long one.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I followed Dean’s lead as he grazed the side of my thigh, then my calf, steering my ankles together while I held my bound hands into my chest. Dean left enough rope loose between my torso and feet that I could stand if I wanted to before he started to wrap the other end around my ankles. We’d tried many ties together; no matter how he did it, a surge of excitement throttled my veins whenever I watched him weaving the coils around, or felt the bite of the rope on my skin. After Dean had my ankles pinned, he slipped his hand beneath my folded knees and sank a finger into my cunt.
I groaned. His eyes locked on mine and he pulled his finger almost fully out before shoving it back in, deep. “God, yes. Don’t stop.”
“You haven’t earned it yet, love.” Dean took away his touch and patted his lap again. “Get over here.”
I didn’t need direction to know what he wanted. I shuffled onto my knees and arranged myself over him, stretching my arms across the armrest of the couch with my pelvis resting on his lap. He helped position me where he preferred, until my legs reached out behind me and my hips were angled with my mound against the outer edge of his thigh. Dean c
hecked to be sure the strand connecting my hands and feet ran right between my legs and against my clit, so that if I were to grind into him, I’d meet the friction of both the jeans he wore and the rope running taut along the length of my body.
I lowered my head and bit the flesh of my arm, so aroused and having trouble focusing. Dean smoothed his hand up and down the back of each of my legs before sweeping it over my ass cheeks, then gathered my hair in his free hand. He touched me like an artist preparing his canvas, ensuring I was in place, a blank surface ready for his every stroke. When Dean spoke, his words came muttered like he was deep in thought.
“I should never have waited this long to play with you.” I closed my eyes as his palm warmed my cheeks with caresses and subtle pinches that had my head spinning. He took a light slap of one cheek, then the other, the popping sound emphasizing the cup shape of his hand.
“No,” I braved. “You shouldn’t have.”
Dean tugged on my hair and took a harder slap. Not too hard—he was readying me still, but it was enough to get my attention. He curved his hand down between my thighs to stroke my cunt, and I gasped.
“Oh my God.”
“You like being right, don’t you?”
“Yes.” I laced my fingers together. He’d slipped one of his inside, the minimal fullness skimming my walls. Once he pulled it away, he smacked both sides of my ass cheeks in a succession of increasingly heavier spanks. I rolled my hips against him, and the gritty rope rubbing alongside my clit drew a deep moan from me.
“And you were right, love. I shouldn’t have taken this from you.” He smacked harder, and I squeezed my knees together. “But damn, you were mouthy when you told me so.” Dean spanked again, firmer now, flattening his palm on my cheek to heighten the clapping sound. He repeated the move on my other cheek, the speed of my heart ramping up higher. I curled my toes at the heat warming my ass and the sneak of his fingers between my thighs.
“Dean.” I gritted my teeth when he shoved two fingers deep, because he worked them in and out, his own heavy breath matching mine. After he lifted his thigh, I let out a moan, and then he started to spank me again, one cheek, the other, back, the pace of his strikes speeding. Against my side, his hard cock riled me up, as did the coarse edge of the opening of his jeans. He tugged harder on my hair, holding the pressure steady when he tilted forward to sink another finger inside me. “Fuck, oh...” He slid them all the way in and attempted to twirl them within my walls, the temperature in my core jumping from hot to raging inferno. I shuddered and rocked my hips. The rough strand of the rope hit my clit at the perfect angle, and I whimpered. Dean’s fingers dug deep, fucking me hard for as long as it took to get me gasping in the throes of a near orgasm. He stopped when I was almost there, leaving me empty and clamping my stickiness onto my ass cheek in a tight grip. I yanked my shoulders back. “Dean, please. Please!”
He lifted his knee and spanked again. “Work for it,” he growled.
I obeyed, grinding my hips while he rained spankings over my ass. It didn’t take long. Ecstasy blared through me somewhere around his fifth strike, my cries turning to wails before he jammed his fingers deep again.
“Yes, Maya. Look at you, so hot...”
“Fuck!” I dipped my head. My cries were a smothered utterance into the couch cushion with Dean keeping up the wild thrusts of his fingers and the tug of my hair. That voice I desired kept commanding, and my body heaved in his lap.
“Yes, sexy. Come. Christ... I love the way you clench around my fingers.”
“Oh God, oh fuck!”
I hadn’t come that hard in a long time. My vision flashed in a wash of stars, my body inundated with the blissful tidal wave that swept my limbs and left me with a frenzied sensitivity that made me start to jerk around at Dean’s brutal, unceasing finger fuck. I must have squirmed enough to bar his movement, because he yanked them away to spank me as hard as he could a few more times. He caught me in his hands and hoisted me up and onto my back on the couch while I struggled to breathe.
“Inside you,” he barked.
I was so strung out. I threw my bound hands up over my head, the leather of the couch warm and sticking to my back, Dean’s clawing fingers pushing my tied legs up and over my face.
He wrestled his jeans off his hips and bit the side of my leg, those gorgeous eyes of his glassy with need. When he thrust inside me, he buried so deep that the weight of him nearly pushed my legs flush to my face.
“Yes, yes!” I urged. Dean didn’t take it easy on me—not now. Not after this long. He followed each withdrawal with a ferocious, deep stab, his teeth scraping the flesh of my leg and his fingers wrapping around to find my clit. He rubbed it hard, fucking me like he’d been away too long, grunting with every thrust and shocking me with the heat between us.
“Maya, yes, Maya...” He hit deep inside, and I winced, but I took him in, loving him, craving him. Needing this.
“Please, yes! Fill me!”
Dean dug his fingers into my clit and shoved so far in I thought I’d break apart. When his teeth came down in a bite of my calf that made me shriek, his come exploded inside in a hot spurt to draw another spasm from my walls. The orgasm shook everything loose, shattering me completely.
“Yes!”
“Fuck, yes!” Dean moaned. His face contorted as he shuddered above me. Rolls of pleasure carried from my head to my toes, neither of us moving. Our breaths stayed wild heaves until our juices raced past his press inside to seep down over his balls.
“My God.” I blinked while the world turned right side up. Dean smiled over me. He kissed my calf and eased himself out, and both of us moaned. Once he stood up, he ran his fingers through his hair in a daze, then stared down at my bound body with our come dripping down my ass crack and onto the couch.
“We’re going to need a rag,” he said, winking.
I giggled, the wild pace of my heart settling into a happy, steady rhythm while he helped me upright to untie me.
He stopped to hold me. “Air cleared?”
“Ha. Yeah.” I leaned my weight into him. “And I think I’m officially going to be quite happy with this whole living-together thing.”
Dean pinched my chin before going back to his untying. “You and me both.”
Chapter Fourteen
My next week with Dean was beyond perfect.
We spent our evenings in a balance between playful antics, great conversation, comforting quiet and sultry, seductive moments meant to spike my temperature and spin me right out of my head. Dean had heard what I’d said that weekend, loud and clear, and he’d made a point every time we’d fucked to show me so. We had our soft, sweet occasions, too—but he didn’t hesitate to play with me in the way we loved best, commanding me to comply with his every whim, with the promise in return being that I’d receive the most intense, delightful pleasures I could fathom.
And did I ever, over and over again.
On Friday, I went into work on the tired side and massively sore from Dean’s impulsive decision to spoil me with a “dirty dessert” after dinner.
That had involved a straight hour of vigorous fucking in our play room, most of the hour prior spent with me tied up and flogged before he’d arranged me where he’d wanted me on the floor, still immobile with the cuffs around my ankles and wrists, and losing my mind with how far out to space he’d sent me. As if that hadn’t been enough, we’d finished to head to bed—but then we’d spent almost another full hour with Dean smothering my cunt in the steady thrust of his fingers and hard sucks of my clit. After I’d come not once but three times, he’d massaged my limbs and whispered endearing words in my ear until I’d drifted off to a well-earned, coma-like sleep in his arms.
Needless to say, the whole affair had required an extra cup of coffee from the break room that morning, but it hadn’t done the trick. Which was how
I ended up with Maddie poking fun at me in my swing by her desk an hour after lunch to see if she wanted to join me for a mocha.
“Uh-oh. Afternoon coffee?” she said, eyeing me. “You sleeping?”
I gave her a coy grin and tapped a finger on the side of her cubicle. “Maybe, maybe not.”
When I winked, she shook her head. She’d been busy shuffling and sorting through packed file folders atop her desk since late in the morning, and she didn’t stop as we talked despite the amusement on her face. “Sounds like that whole talk you had pushed you two back into the honeymoon phase?”
“I’d say you’re right on that.”
“Nice.” She dropped the thickest folder on top of the others with a winded sigh. “Sadly, I’m slammed. This project...ahhh.”
“Thank you for taking it on.” I rubbed the side of my face. The project was an organizational thing I’d managed last time around, but we liked to share the love here at WOFC. “Want me to get you one, then?”
“Nope, I’m all good. I can’t wire myself out today. Henry’s working late, and I slept like crap last night. I’m hoping after Timothy wears me down with hours and hours of fort building and homework that I can crash out like never before for the whole weekend.”
“Here’s hoping! What’s up with the homework in first grade? And over a weekend?”
Disdain filled her face. “Don’t even get me started.”
“Yuck.”
“Yeah. But he’s enjoying it, at least. Maybe that’ll carry on, and I’ll have a perfectly content and calm child who takes over the world with his superb math skills?”
The Reward Page 21
