I smile, feeling empowered.
And naughty.
I yawn dramatically. “You know, that wine really took a lot out of me. I’m kind of tired.”
“Wh . . . what?” he pants.
“I think I need a breather. You don’t mind, do you?”
Drew growls, “Kate . . .”
I swing my leg over him, sliding his massively impressive hardon between my legs. Sitting on it, but not letting it slip inside.
“I’m kind of thirsty too. I’m going to get a glass of water. You want some?”
“This isn’t f**king funny, Kate.”
Oooh, he’s mad.
Scary.
I slide my finger down the middle of his chest. “Who’s laughing?”
he pulls at the cuffs—harder this time. When the locks hold, I giggle. Who knew poking a lion with a stick could be so much fun?
“Relax, Drew. Stay put like a good boy and I’ll come back . . .”
I shrug. “Eventually.”
I kiss his nose quickly, hop off the bed, and scurry from the room as he calls my name.
Don’t look at me like that; I’m just teasing him a little. You know he deserves it. No harm in that, right?
I skip down the hall to the kitchen, proud of myself. When I step onto the cold tile floor, goose bumps rise up my legs and down my arms. I really am thirsty, so I get a glass from the cabinet and fill it with cold water.
Standing at the sink I take a nice long gulp, closing my eyes as the cool liquid soothes my dry throat. A drop trails down my chin, over my collarbone, and down my breast.
Without warning, a hard chest presses up against my back, shocking me. I squeak and the glass drops and shatters in the sink.
I don’t know how he got free, but the handcuffs are dangling from his wrists. Rough hands pull me back, trapping me.
I shiver as seductive warm breath scrapes my ear.
“That wasn’t nice, Kate. I can be not nice too.”
his voice is low—not angry, but firm. It’s incredibly arousing.
One hand grips my hair at the nape and pulls, making me arch my back and press my pelvis against the rim of the sink. he jerks my head to the side, and then he’s kissing me—plunging his tongue into my mouth as I race to keep up.
The kiss is possessive.
Dominating.
A moment later he pushes easily inside me and starts a pounding rhythm, his lower abdomen slapping against my ass with each push.
It’s exhilarating.
I hear myself moan. The counter bites into my stomach, but I don’t care. All I can feel is Drew.
Controlling me. Driving me. Owning me.
his free hand grips mine and brings it around front to my clit.
Pressing my fingers down, compelling me to pleasure myself.
Guys have a thing for mast***ation. I’ve come to realize it’s a huge turn on—like throwing a match into a barrel of gasoline.
he releases my hand, but my fingers continue to move like he wants them to. Like I’m a puppet on a string, and Drew is the master puppeteer. And then he leans back, taking the heat of his chest away.
The pace of his thrusting slows. And I feel his hand slide down my spine. Between us.
To my ass.
his hand kneads and rubs, then his fingers glide around the mounds of flesh. Back and forth over the hypersensitive hole between them.
And I tense up.
This is new territory for us. Well—for me. I have no doubt that Drew has, at one time or another, been inside every available orifice of the female form.
But for me it’s unknown. And a little nerve-racking.
his fingers make several harmless passes until I relax. Until the tension drains from my shoulders, and I’m once again distracted by the intense pleasure the rhythm of his hips invokes.
And then he slides one finger inside.
There’s no pain. No discomfort. Double penetration is a lot like skydiving. To truly appreciate it, you have to experience it.
Words don’t really do it justice.
But I’ll try: delicious.
In a forbidden, naughty kind of way.
Slowly Drew moves his finger in and out, catching up with the pace of his cock.
And I’m moaning, low and deep and uninhibited. My own fingers rub faster—harder—in front. Then I gasp as he stretches me wider, making room for the second finger he just slipped in.
his movements are unhurried. Torturous and teasing.
And I want to open my mouth and beg for more.
More friction, more heat.
Faster. More. Please.
Drew compels me forward gently. Bending me over, so my hair brushes the bottom of the sink. And then he’s gone—out of my body.
And I ache with the loss of it.
Until I feel the head of his cock, wet with my fluids, stroking back and forth over the opening his fingers just occupied.
“Drew . . .”
It’s a keening moan, half pleasure, half pain.
All pleading.
“Say yes, Kate. Fucking Christ . . . please say yes.”
his voice is raspy. Raw.
With need.
For me.
And suddenly I feel powerful.
Strange, considering our current position, but still—I’m the one in control. he may as well be begging at my feet.
Waiting and hoping for my command.
I don’t think. I don’t weigh the options or contemplate the consequences. I only feel, submerged in rapturous sensation.
I let go.
And I trust.
“Yes . . .”
Ever so slowly, Drew presses forward into me. There’s a moment of pain—a stretching burn—and I inhale sharply. he pauses. Until I release my breath. Then, gently, he continues forward, until his most intimate flesh is fully ensconced in my own. Then he stays completely still. Letting my body adjust to the intrusion.
I feel his hand slide across my hip and down my thigh, coming around to my front. his hand goes under mine, his fingers rubbing in a circular motion. In that sensuous, magnificent way, before dipping inside me. Over and over and over again.
I always thought of anal sex as the ultimate show of domination, forceful, maybe humiliating.
But this doesn’t feel that way.
It’s primal . . . unexplored . . . but beautiful too. Sacred.
Like I’ve just given him my virginity. And in a way, I guess I have.
I move first, pushing back against him.
Giving Drew permission—wanting to know, to experience these new sensations. Needing to cross the finish line. With him.
It’s more than erotic. Beyond intimate.
Drew’s lips press against the skin on my back. Kissing and cursing and whispering my name. And then he’s the one moving.
Taking back control. Gliding in and out—tender but steady.