by W Winters
“Jase, I don’t mean to,” she nearly whimpers with more than a hint of fear and finally glances away from me, toward the door.
Her breathing is erratic and her fingers wrap around her silverware as if she’ll use it against me. She may do just that, my fiery girl, if I give her a reason.
“Jase,” she says and whispers my name.
“You’re scared?” I ask her.
She hesitates to answer before closing her eyes and nodding. The fear is a constant. I’m not sure it’ll ever leave her and I can’t blame her.
“You just said you trusted that I would never hurt you.” The pain inside of my chest is sharp like a knife, piercing and twisting, never stopping to offer a moment of relief. I’d bleed out here if I had to watch her paused in this moment, truly afraid that I’d hurt her. “I’m not going to hurt you, Bethany. This is a punishment that you can take. One that you obviously need.”
“I’m scared,” she whispers.
“Don’t be. Parts of it you may even enjoy.” That comment gets her attention. I keep her gaze to tell her, “I’m not going to let you get away with this shit any longer. You will be punished. Whether you’re upset or scared or otherwise. I should have already punished you.” At the word punish, she licks her lips. Her body will always betray her regardless of the brave front she puts on around me.
“You’ve run from me, lied to me, stolen from me, raised a knife to me… And you thought I’d do nothing?” I question her. “How much did you think I’d let you get away with, cailín tine?”
Using her nickname is what does it. I can feel the tension break, I can feel it warm and I notice how it melts around her. Her bottom lip drops, pouty and trembling, but her breathing has changed. No longer tense, but still quick with anticipation.
I give her a moment, letting everything settle for her.
“Still your cailín tine?” The Gaelic phrase sounds foreign on her tongue.
“Of course,” I answer, reaching across the table to offer my hand and she still hesitates to reciprocate, but she does, setting her small hand in mine. Brushing my thumb across her wrist, I try to keep it soothing to calm her before the inevitable will happen. “I hate that it comes to this before you’ll let me in. Do you know that?”
She exhales deeply before telling me, “I’m not exactly used to this. And I don’t exactly like it either.”
“You don’t like what?”
“Having to be accountable to someone like…”
“To someone like me?” She only nods at my question until I narrow my gaze and pause the motion of my thumb against her pulse. “Yes,” she answers verbally.
“Well I enjoy your company, Miss Fawn, and from what I gather, you enjoy mine.” Again she nods and this time whispers her yes along with it, nearly defiantly.
“When you’re with someone, you have to make allowances for them. I have done my best to make allowances for you given this… situation.”
“And I have not,” Beth speaks before the judgment can fall from my lips. “I realize I am difficult and…” she pauses, swallowing thickly before adding, “I do appreciate some things… I am just very aware of others that…”
“That you will have to make certain allowances for,” I say, finishing her sentence for her with the only outcome I’ll allow. “Is that understood?”
She nods and speaks simultaneously, “Yes.”
Pulling my hand away from her, I let the warmth of her words – that she appreciates me, no matter how small a part of me -- flow through me, feeling my cock harden as I think about what I’m going to do to her. “This situation being new for you is no excuse. It’s new for me too.”
“What are you going to do?” she asks breathlessly.
“You’re going to need the rest of your wine.”
I’m careful and calm as I stand up, pulling the chair back and unbuttoning my jacket.
Her fingers linger on the glass but she doesn’t pick it up until I pick up my own glass, downing the full-bodied red I know she loves. It’s sweet and decadent, like her when she lets go and gives me control.
I set the empty glass on the table behind us. The aftertaste is smooth and I focus on that as I calmly remove everything from our table one by one. The candle, the vase, the small plates and then the large one still littered with hors d’oeuvres I thought she’d enjoy.
She doesn’t just calm down; that wouldn’t fit the woman she is. She’s intense and wrought with emotion. She feels everything in exaggerated stages.
Every second that passes, the air gets hotter around us.
Each breath she takes picks up its pace.
After loosening my tie, I remove the last few pieces of silverware from the table, placing it easily on the table to our right.
“Sit here.” My hand splays on the barren table in front of me. My palm is flat against the surface. “Right here,” I say and pat the table again, closer to the edge this time and although she’s slow, she obeys. Climbing onto the table, she’s fully clothed. The blush that creeps up her cheeks is an indication that she knows damn well she won’t be staying that way.
“Come closer,” I command once she’s on all fours on top of the table and when she’s close enough, I position her body how I want it, feeling the race of adrenaline and desire run through my pulse.
“Jase.” My name is merely lust wrapped in words that don’t matter. “I really am sorry.”
“I have a question for you,” I say, and I don’t bother accepting or denying her apology. “Are you terrified of me? Or of what I could do to you?” I ask her, placing my forearms on the table on either side of her. She’s close to me, her luscious curves within reach. Her pouty lips near mine, ready to capture. But I don’t kiss her. Not yet.
“Both,” she admits and I don’t blame her.
“I’ve done terrible things in my life. It makes sense you’d be afraid,” I admit, feeling a crease in my forehead as her expression stays etched with concern. “But leading with fear is a bad move to make.”
“I know,” she whispers just beneath her breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into. I’m angry, I’m lost and I’m terrified.”
“I’ll be angry alongside you. I’ll find you a way. I’ll make sure there’s not a damn thing that will touch you. Nothing should scare you when you’re with me.” Reaching out, I cup her chin in my hand, feeling her smooth skin and continuing to caress her when she presses her cheek into my embrace. “Even me. I shouldn’t scare you.”
“Knowing how much I want to be around you is terrifying in itself. Which is ridiculous, all things considered.” Her eyes open on her last point, her thick lashes barely revealing her eyes beneath them.
With one leg on either side of me, I press my fingers against her pussy, through the fabric that separates our skin and she keeps her eyes on mine, but her head falls back just slightly.
“Already hot,” I comment. “Are you already wet for me too?”
She only nods and as I open my lips, moving closer to her to reprimand her for not answering verbally, she halts any inclination I have to do so.
She kisses me first. Without warning. Surprised, I moan into her mouth, feeling my rigid cock twitch with need to be inside of her. This greedy woman who takes from me when no one else would dare to do so.
“Even when you’re in trouble, you still defy me and take from me.”
She only answers with the hint of smile.
“You like to be the first to kiss, don’t you?” I ask her.
“It’s my call.” I don’t bother to hide the smirk that lurks on my lips.
I don’t bother to hide the lust either as I answer her, “It was going to happen anyway.”
“I could have run, I could bite you, or deny you.”
“Why would you?” I ask her with genuine curiosity, my lips just barely away from hers.
“That’s what people do when they’re scared, Jase. You should know that by now.”
&nb
sp; Words catch in my throat, tightening it and warring with each other inside of me. “Strip” is the only one that manages to escape.
“Jase.” I watch her swallow, I can even hear it before she tells me, “They’ll see. Anyone could see from the door.”
“I don’t give a shit about anyone but you right now.”
Words are lost to her as we stare into each other’s eyes until I tell her, “Any man who dared to look through that door would die.”
Her breath hitches and her thighs tighten at my words.
“Does that make you hot?” I ask her, feeling my own desire rising.
She nods as she whispers yes. I allow my gaze to wander down her body, although it stops too soon as I focus on her breasts when she pulls her sweater over her head. Through the tank top underneath, I see her pebbled nipples.
“Maybe he’d get a glimpse of you cumming with my lips between your legs.”
Leaning in closer, I whisper in her ear as she pulls the straps of her tank top down, “What a way to die… for that to be the last thing he sees.”
The exhale she releases is tempting, but I maintain control. I don’t touch her again as she peels off every bit of clothing and lies bared to me, pushing her bra off the table for it to fall carelessly on the floor below with its companions.
Both of my hands grip her hips and I pull her closer to me. Keeping her gaze with mine, I lower my lips to her swollen nub and suck. With a single lick of her sweet cunt, I go back to her clit, sucking it until she’s letting those sweet sounds flow into the air.
Her body rocks, her hands spear my hair. I love the way her nails scratch me as she gets closer and closer.
I have to remind myself that this is a punishment. I can’t get lost in her.
The moment her back arches and her bottom lip drops with a deep moan, I pull away from her, smacking the inside of her thigh to take her away from the edge of her forbidden fall.
“No,” I tell her. With flushed cheeks, she stares back at me breathlessly and wordlessly. “You don’t get to cum tonight.”
As she blinks away the haze of lust and confusion, my middle finger plays at her folds, spreading her arousal as I talk. “I will play with you, fuck you, and get myself off with the things I plan to do with you. But you will not cum.”
All I can hear is her single breath before she nods.
“Verbally.”
“I understand.”
Rewarding how easily she accepts the punishment, I plant a kiss on the bright red patch of skin on her inner thigh. And then another, traveling up her body, over the curve of her waist and then higher. Standing up and dragging my open-mouth kisses up her neck, I unbutton my pants, letting them and my boxers drop to the floor so I can stroke myself.
“On your back,” I command her and pull my shirt over my head. She positions herself with her heels on the edge of the table and her back flat against the tabletop.
She struggles not to lift her head and watch me as I undress entirely.
I can’t resist toying with her breasts, plucking her nipples and pulling them back to bring those sweet sounds to leave her.
Her pussy clenches around nothing. I watch her, hot and flushed, ready to be fucked. The taste of her and red wine still remain on my tongue.
“You’re taking this punishment well,” I commend her and then pull her ass closer to me, nearly falling off the edge of the table.
She starts to answer, but I grip her hips in my hand and slam myself inside her. Fuck, she feels too fucking good. I can’t close my eyes even though my body begs me to enjoy the rapture of pleasure fully and do so.
Her neck arches and her eyes scrunch as her heat clenches around me. The table jostles with the thrust of my hips and her breasts sway as I fuck her. I’m careful not to allow her to enjoy herself fully.
Her hands move to her breasts, her nipples barely peeking through her fingers as she gets close, inching her way toward her release.
I pull out fully, instantly missing her warmth.
She whimpers and struggles to stay still as I step back. It’s hard to keep my breathing controlled, even harder to do it again, fucking her relentlessly on the table and stopping just before she reaches her climax.
The third time, I lower my body close to hers, feeling my skin heat and needing to be closer to her. She doesn’t kiss me when I bring my lips close to hers this time.
She pushes her head back against the table, so I drag my teeth along her throat and up to the shell of her ear, loving how she moans even though she knows she’ll be left wanting yet again.
“This is what a punishing fuck is,” I hiss as I pound into her again and stay buried deep inside of her as I almost lose myself in the moment. “I take all my pleasure,” I push the words through clenched teeth as I move myself slowly out of her and then slam all the way back in.
A strangled cry leaves her and she drags her nails down my back. The mix of pleasure and pain nearly has me finding my release too soon. I’m not ready for it to be over though, not by a mile.
“I get my pleasure, and you get nothing,” I whisper in her ear as the intensity of the pleasure stirring inside of me subsides. Only then am I able to pull away from her enough to look her in the eye.
Daggers stare back at me, but not in anger. I can see the challenge clearly written on her face. My poor cailín tine has no idea how painful orgasm denial is. To be taken to the highest high each time, finding the edge of release so close, only to have it ripped away from you and the waves of pleasure yanked from you.
“I dream about the noises you make when you get off. I want to hear those sounds over and over again,” I tell her and then recklessly fuck her, feeling the stir of my climax approaching in time with hers. Only to pull away at the last second.
“No,” this time she whimpers and her body rolls to the side, wanting to get away. “Please,” she begs me, her face pained.
“How can I reward either of us with that, when you don’t listen to me? When you fight me every step of the way?”
She visibly swallows and tells me she’s sorry again. I’m not interested in an apology.
I fuck her again, listening to the sound of me fucking her, of the table banging against the floor as my movements get stronger with my own needs taking over.
I suck in a deep breath as I pull away again. She can’t resist touching herself, knowing it’s only a small touch she’ll need at this point and I grip her wrists, pulling them away and pinning them to the table.
The frustration, even the contempt, show in her expression. “Keep your hands here.” My voice is deep and the threat is there. I can tell she’s biting her tongue and I love it. I love taming my wild girl.
“Let me be very clear. I would have loved to get lost inside of you and give you every pleasure imaginable. But I will not be made a fool, Bethany. Do you understand?”
“I’m not a fucking idiot.”
“You put a knife against my chest,” I rebut. “That doesn’t make you a smart woman, does it?”
“I’m sorry,” she tells me again and her gaze falls to my chest, but I grip her chin, stealing her attention back to what matters.
“Do you think words are enough? Words are meaningless.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t go back. What more do you want from me?” She screams her question, the hoarse words ricocheting in the restaurant.
Even now she pushes me. She’ll never stop. I know she won’t. The fire inside of her will never die.
And I love it. I will live for the moments she defies me.
Knowing that to be the truth, I pin her hands above her head when I thrust inside of her this time and push my chest to hers. My muscles scream and a cold sweat breaks out along my back as I rut between her legs, hard and deep, listening to her strangled cries of pleasure.
I nearly don’t stop. I nearly ruin the punishment, but fate would have me go through with it. The leg of the table that’s closest to me, buckles and breaks. Forcing us to fall as the
table crashes to the floor.
Silencing her scream with a desperate kiss, I pull her body on top of mine as my back falls against the broken wood. With an arm wrapped around her back, I roll over to lay her on the floor.
I only take a moment to make sure she’s all right, and her response is to writhe under me, begging me to keep fucking her.
I slam myself as hard and deep as I can inside of her and stay right there. She claws at the floor, screaming and moaning with nothing to silence her cries.
Watching her gasp for air and struggling to contain herself, I push the question out with what little control I have left. “Tell me what you really think of me.”
I shouldn’t have asked and it shouldn’t matter, but in this moment, being inside of her and having her at my mercy, I need to know. More than anything else, I need to know the truth.
She struggles not to thrash under me as I rub her clit, still buried inside of her. “Tell me the truth, cailín tine.”
“I love you,” she practically screams the repressed truth and I still. My body tenses, even as she continues to thrash beneath me, heaving in air and still pushing me away, although weakly.
I have to move. Before I lose myself inside her, and before she says anything else.
She loves me.
I fuck her with long strokes, each of them penetrating her as deeply as I can and pulling out until I’m barely inside of her.
Each time she lets out a moan of sudden pleasure and then her eyes seek mine, wanting more, needing me again and again.
I draw out her release, teasing her like this and nipping her lips. All the while hearing her say those words over and over in my head. She loves me.
She whispers it again, right when her pussy tightens and she cries out her orgasm.
When I finally feel my own release, I sink my teeth into her neck, not biting her, but needing to do something so I don’t groan out words I’ll regret.
The haze of desire fades slowly and then all at once when I sit up, pulling myself away from her, and she finally looks me in the eyes.
For a long time, the only thing I can hear is both of us breathing, both of us getting a grip on what just happened. She said she loves me.
