Fueling His Hunger

by Sparrow Beckett

  “That’s . . . I . . . you suck!”

  “Not yet.”

  He leaned down and caught her poor, squashed nipple in his mouth, sucking gently, flicking his tongue over the sensitized bud until she was panting. Then he closed his teeth on it, gently, then nipping, biting . . .

  Her scream rang through the clearing, half pain, half desire. The sound of her own suffering turned her on. She trembled for him, afraid of what he was going to do next, but more afraid of how much she liked it. What if no one ever did this to her again? Liking this was so perverted, but if he didn’t do something awful to her other nipple soon she was going to beg for it.

  “Hmm . . . good thing you didn’t pick the hotel room, noisy girl.” His grin was devilish, but not judgmental. He cupped her sore breast again, then rubbed a gentle thumb over it, making her shriek.

  “It hurts. Oh god, it hurts so much.”

  His hand quested down between her legs, and his fingers explored there. When he brought them back up to show her, they shone slick in the firelight.

  “Messy.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Open your mouth.”

  She eyed his fingers askance. “What? No! Why?”

  “You’ve never tasted yourself?”

  “Ew! No.”

  He chuckled. “Do you want me to torture your other nipple?”

  “No!” she lied.

  “Then open your mouth.”

  Damn it.

  Revolted, she clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.

  “Bad girls get punished, Ophelia. Cooperate or you’re not going to like what happens.”

  She turned her head away from him completely, but still saw him suck his fingers clean. When she glanced back, he slowly unbuckled his belt, giving her plenty of time to regret being difficult.

  But did she regret it, or was she looking forward to it?

  He drew his belt from the loops of his jeans, her attention taking in the erotic threat, as well as the painfully angled bulge below his waistband, the play of muscle and tattoo, the nipple rings, the impossibly broad shoulders . . .

  Maybe she should have been scared, but the man exuded so much sexual energy that she was afraid she’d come just from watching him.

  “I’d say I was sorry to have to do this, but I’d be lying,” he said. With a firm grip on her arm, he turned her to face into the darkness of the trees, ignoring her attempt to resist. She tried to twist to face him, but he held her where he wanted her. “If you don’t cooperate, this is just going to be worse for you, young lady.”

  Young lady?

  She opened her mouth to tell him off. The end of his belt sliding over the curve of her ass made her forget what she meant to say. He tapped her with it once, and it startled her even though she knew it was coming. But it was just a tap—it didn’t even sting. Unfortunately, the idea of it was hotter than the reality. Should she tell him to skip it before she got completely turned off?

  The second slap of the belt was a little harder, but not really more interesting. She sighed.

  “Am I boring you, little girl?”

  “Well, no. Not exactly,” she began diplomatically. “I’m just not sure this is going to work for me.”

  “I was trying to take things slow so I didn’t scare you.”

  Scared? Not so much anymore.

  “But it’s definitely not supposed to be boring,” he muttered and she saw him step back from her peripheral vision.

  Fire streaked her ass. She squealed and went up on her toes, hovering there for a moment as she contemplated shimmying up the rope into the tree to escape.

  An unintelligible sound escaped her and her ass clenched tight against the next blow. She forced herself flatfooted again, eager yet afraid.

  “Still bored?”

  A sharp laugh burst from her. “No!”

  “Yeah, the way you’re shoving your sexy ass out for me clued me in.”

  “I am not!” she objected, tipping her hips forward because he was right, even though it had been unintentional. “It’s just big.”

  “It’s fucking perfect,” he sighed, trailing his fingers reverently along the bottom of her ass, where it met her leg. She shivered at the tickling sensation and she shifted in place.

  He really thought her ass was perfect? Her first reaction was to argue with him, both since she didn’t feel the same way and because women were expected to modestly protest any compliment. But ruining the moment with a meaningless exchange of expected protocol was stupid, and she didn’t want to distract him from what he was doing. No, she desperately wanted him to keep going.

  The belt connected with her ass again, but this time she was ready for it. She stayed in place, although a cry still escaped her.

  “You were going to disagree with me, weren’t you?”

  “No,” she gasped.

  He hit her again, this time twice in fast succession. There wasn’t enough time to process the pain before the next stroke fell. And the next. Then a harder one. The slide of leather over the burning throb of her ass, gentle, threatening. She waited for more, but he waited longer, teasing her with the anticipation of violence but not delivering it until she thrust back at him. She didn’t know why, but she was impatient for more.

  Two more, fast and hard, hit the same spot. She shrieked and shied away.

  “Did I give you permission to move?” He put her back where he wanted her, swatting her bottom with his hand once she was back in position.

  “No.”

  “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I’ll be good.” It was true. She did. And now that she’d stolen a minute to process the pain, she wanted more.

  The belt cracked across her ass twice more, leaving her gasping and hanging from her wrist restraints. It was a different kind of arousal than she was used to, but she was so turned on she was ready to do everything and anything he wanted if only he’d give her an orgasm.

  He crouched down behind her, inspecting her ass in the firelight. Embarrassment at being looked at like that, so closely, made her whimper. His fingers traced along her skin.

  “You mark up nicely.”

  “Do you have to look at me so . . . close?”

  “I had to make sure I wasn’t doing it too hard. In this light it’s difficult to tell,” he replied. “Besides, if I want to look at you while you’re tied like this, what can you really do to stop me?” Iron-grip fingers wrapped around her hips, holding her in place, probably just in case she took that as a challenge.

  Featherlight, his lips brushed over her ass, following what was probably a welt. Breath caught in her throat, and she tried to squirm away, but he wouldn’t let her.

  He was . . . his mouth . . .

  He was kissing her ass and every touch was making her crazy. It wasn’t what she thought of when people said “kiss my ass.”

  The brush of his lips turned into slow, erotic bites, not too hard, but hard enough to sting. Kiss, brush, bite, lick. Pause . . .

  She mewled and writhed. Fingers moved from her hips to her pussy, sliding between her labia to tease at her clit. Every time he bit her ass, it forced her to try to get away, which pushed her clit harder against his fingers. A finger slid over her asshole and she tensed, squealed, and tried to avoid it, but he refused to let her, exploring that part of her with gentle touches that set her on edge.

  “Have you ever been fucked in the ass, Ophelia?” he asked, his voice cutting through her harsh breathing and incoherent protests.

  Molten heat flooded through her, along with a detailed and pornographic mental image.

  “No!”

  “Have you ever even had someone touch you here?”

  “No!” She gasped. Why on earth did it feel so bone-meltingly good to be touched there when it was so, so . . . wrong? “No one I know d
oes that.”

  “Some of them do. They just don’t talk about it.” He chuckled, but thankfully stood up. “Is anal a hard limit for you?”

  Yes!

  No, that was a lie.

  Her pulse was still racing and between the sting of the welts he’d probably left, the throb of her clit, and lingering sensitivity of her asshole, she was having trouble thinking straight. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t it hurt?”

  “Did I hurt you there just now?”

  “No,” she conceded. “Have you done it before though? Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Oh, I know what I’m doing.”

  God, his voice.

  Heat and humiliation burned her cheeks. “You can touch me there, but I don’t know how I feel about it.”

  “Fair enough. And you can always say ‘red.’”

  She nodded.

  He turned to the bag of things he’d retrieved in the tent, and drew something out that she couldn’t identify in the low light. She hoped like hell it was a condom because she was ready for him to fuck her. Now. He was too damn patient. Most guys always seemed to be in a rush, expecting her to be responsible for whether she got off or not, but Luke went almost too far in the opposite direction. As though torturing her and keeping her on the edge of orgasm was fun. Bastard.

  “What’s that?”

  A buzzing noise surprised her. “Just a toothbrush.”

  She’d seen a cheap, battery-powered toothbrush in the bag, but now?

  “So you’re leaving me here alone so you can go brush your teeth?”

  “No.” He snorted. The thing was still buzzing in his hand, and he was getting closer.

  “But what are you . . . ?”

  He held the brush so that the back of the plastic was just in front of her still-sore nipple.

  “No,” she begged. “What are you doing?” Damn, this was going to hurt!

  The brush’s vibrations made the barest contact with the tip of her breast, and she gasped at the sensation. It didn’t hurt at all. In fact, it made her want it harder, and maybe in other places, but it was weird that he was using it as a sex toy.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “No,” she admitted unhappily.

  He leaned down and sucked the opposite nipple into his mouth while keeping the toothbrush vibrating teasingly around the other. His mouth sucked and tugged, nipped while the brush sent shocks of pleasure through her. So close to coming again. Her nipples hurt now and the pain was almost as delicious as him striping her ass with his belt. She panted, squeezing her thighs together and squirming, ashamed that she was so close to coming. Higher, closer . . . the knot in her lower belly pulled tight . . .

  Without warning Luke took a step back. He groaned aloud, then grabbed between his legs, his grip hard and his expression fierce.

  “No, please!” Her voice broke. “Please, Luke. Please, I’m so close.”

  He swore, paced back and forth in front of her.

  “Please,” she begged, realizing she was making a fool of herself but too horny to care. She’d never been this bad off in her entire life, and he was going to leave her like this?

  The pacing slowed, stopped. He drew several long breaths, looking off into the darkness. When he finally turned back to her, the slow smile had spread across his evil face again. Oh, fuck.

  The night air had already puckered her most recently abused nipple. She found herself straining toward Luke, offering herself and desperately hoping he accepted her invitation. Some teasing was okay, but this? This was torture.

  He strolled back over to her, seeming to be in control of himself, while she was still twitchy and ready to jump out of her skin.

  “You’re so close to what?”

  Willing to do almost anything to ease her suffering, she opened her mouth to tell him she needed to come, but then shut it again. It wasn’t fair that she had to admit it out loud when he looked so damned calm. But the calmness was an act, wasn’t it?

  “Tell me,” he urged again.

  So, he wanted to be difficult? Two could play at that game.

  “I’m close to needing a nap,” she said sweetly.

  His expression was hidden by shadow, but his stance was menacing.

  “Oh, am I boring you again? Sorry. Let me see if I can fix that.”

  A thrill of sexualized fear stole through her. She was so vulnerable, tied like this—hell, even if she wasn’t tied. Why was she goading this large man she barely knew?

  He grabbed her by the back of the hair and claimed her mouth, coaxing, sensual, yet unforgiving. When she was whimpering again, he switched on the toothbrush. His hand came up between her legs, the handle of the brush vibrating as he coaxed it between her labia. Pressed against her aching clit, it brought her, gasping, to the brink, only to have him draw it away, let her calm, before pressing it to her again. He played his game, teasing and denying, until she could no longer control her sobbing.

  At one point he dropped to his knees and nudged her legs further apart, spreading her labia, then flicking his tongue over her clit . . . so, so gently that she held her breath, every fiber of her being focused on the tiny center of her pleasure as he barely connected with it. Her muscles strained as she tried to use his tongue to get herself off, but he would draw away, avoiding giving her what she needed.

  He alternated between tongue and the lightest touch of the spinning brush head, both like electric shocks, making her squeal and shriek until finally all she could manage was a constant, thin wail. During the breaks he bit her nipples, groped her, smacked her ass, teased her asshole. He finger-fucked her, drawing his fingers away, slick with her arousal—and made her taste it after all.

  Sweat coated her body, making her hair cling damply to her neck. Needy, exhausted, she hung in her bonds, her legs like jelly.

  This was never going to end. He was never going to give up, but she didn’t know what he wanted from her, other than to feed off her sexual suffering. Evil. He was just evil.

  She couldn’t take another lick, another flick, another suck. And that damned brush. She couldn’t take the brush.

  “Red.” She whimpered, broken, ashamed she was giving in. “Red, oh God, fucking red.”

  He got to his feet, his brows furrowed in concern. “You’re done?” Without waiting for an answer, he unbuckled the restraints on her wrists, then caught her when her legs trembled and threatened to give out again. He eased her down onto the blanket he’d laid out next to the fire, covering her with a second one and wrapping her in it while she shivered and trembled. He pulled her close and she felt dazed but safe in his arms. But that didn’t fix the problem.

  Shouldn’t he have lost control before this—more than just to take a breather and check her circulation?

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his gaze concerned.

  Unable to help it, she squirmed in the blanket. Her teeth chattered and her heart still thundered so loud it echoed in her ears.

  “No.”

  “What do you need?” He pulled her closer and trailed small kisses up the side of her neck to her ear, making her eyes roll back in pleasure disproportionate to his action.

  “To come. I just need to come. Please.”

  “You want cock?” he asked, his expression serious.

  “I—Yes.”

  “Then get on your knees and ask like a good girl.”

  The words shorted out her mental processes for a moment. Knees? Like, kneel and ask for his cock? Oh God.

  After only the barest hesitation, she fought her way out of the blanket and got shakily to her knees, sitting back on her heels. Luke rolled to his side and lay indolently on the blanket, head propped up on one hand, like a sultan eyeing a slave girl. Her slickness coated her thighs and now transferred to her heels, and parts of her calves. He waited, looking indifferent. His expression said, �
�Impress me, slave, and I may grant you what you need.’

  “Please, Luke,” she said shakily, “I need to come. Can I please have . . . cock?” She squirmed. Begging for sex was far more humiliating and arousing than she ever would have guessed.

  The cruel smile on his lips matched the sin in his eyes.

  “You may.” He stretched out on his back and laced his fingers behind his head.

  No, damn it. She wanted him to throw her down and take what he wanted, not just let her use him to work off some steam.

  “But . . . You’re dominant. I thought you’d want to, you know, take charge or whatever.”

  “I am. Who’s getting what they want?” He flicked a finger toward the nearby bag. “Condoms are in there.”

  “But I don’t know what I’m doing,” she stammered.

  “I’ll help.”

  Ugh!

  Quickly, before she could chicken out, she found the box of condoms and pulled one out. No guy had ever made her be on top, let alone put a condom on him, and now it was looking like Luke was going to make her do both.

  She tore the packet open with shaking hands, then realized she was in such a hurry to get the embarrassing parts over with that she hadn’t even unzipped his jeans yet. Was he even hard for her anymore? If he wasn’t, would he make her do something to turn him on? She hoped he didn’t want her to dance or act like a porn star or something. She’d told him she was bad at everything, so why was he making her do this?

  Part of her wanted to give up and walk away. This was so far outside of her comfort zone. It wasn’t her job to get him naked and put a condom on him—wasn’t that the guy’s job? Wasn’t it more her job to lie back and try to enjoy it?

  “Come here,” he said gently.

  She moved up next to him.

  “You’re being such a good girl for me, Ophelia.”

  Her anxiety melted and sluiced away. Arousal spiraled through her again, her sexual reactions to his approval disturbing.

  “Unzip my jeans.”

  Slowly, she obeyed, hungrily watching as each bit of his belly came into view. Dark hair feathered down his lower belly, leading her gaze lower. He was hard, but bent off to one side. She stalled, not sure what to do next.