26. Zarina
ZARINA
S he’s soft at first, our lips slotting together and mapping out each dip and curve. I stop holding back, my hands latching onto Tamayo’s arm across my chest, digging my nails into her skin, between her tendons. And when her tongue begs entrance, I grant it. Each press together, every pull apart, builds the flames inside me.
I turn in my seat, and she steps forward between my legs, my leather skirt riding up to allow her entrance. Her free hand digs into my waist at the same time she sucks my tongue into her mouth, and I groan. It’s like the sound flips a switch. One moment, I’m sitting in the chair, one hand in my hair, her other on my waist, and the next, I’m lifted up onto the bar. I grab her shoulders for balance as her touch roams from my waist to my thighs, hooking my knees to wrap around her.
Her lips slip down my neck, over my chest. My corset top pushes my breasts up to greet her mouth.
I arch into her. “Jesus,” I breathe.
“I prefer Daddy.”
I snort, eyes rolling. “I’m not calling you daddy.”
She pulls back, lips slick and pink, and somehow the debauched look only serves to make her unamused eyebrow raise more sexy. “I recall saying we’d discuss eye rolls and titles at a later date.”
“Is right now the right time?” I snip. Despite the desperate need to have Tamayo’s hands all over me, her mouth devouring me. I won’t yield easily. I don’t know how. And doing so would go against every instinct inside of me.
Tamayo shakes her head. “You’re a brat.”
“Well spotted.”
Her hand wraps loosely around my throat, her thumb propping my chin up uncomfortably high. “I only have so much tolerance, princess. You push me too far, and I’ll have to stop. Do you understand?”
I swallow hard. “I understand.”
“Good girl.” Her thumb finds my lower lip and presses down on it, exposing my teeth. She stares for a long second, brown eyes hooded, and then lets go. “We’ll use the stoplight system. If you’re good, you’re green. If at any time you want to slow down, you say yellow. If you want to stop, red. And if your mouth is otherwise occupied, pinch me. Understand?”
“Is that really necess?—”
Her nail scrapes over my jaw. “Do you understand?”
“Fine,” I concede without grace.
“What’s yellow?” she asks.
“Slow down,” I grumble.
“Red?”
“Stop.”
She nods, her free arm circling my waist. “And if you can’t speak?”
“Punch you?” I hazard, voice bright with faux innocence.
She sighs. “Good enough.” And then she undoes the busks at my back, unwrapping my corset from my torso as if I’m a gift. My breasts relax, free from constraints, and immediately her tongue traces their curves from collarbone to areola and back again. I arch into the heat of her mouth as her fingers dig into my hips like she might be ripped from me at any moment.
It’s too late for that now. Now that I’ve given in, I don’t want to stop. I find the buttons of her shirt and undo each one until I can slip it down her shoulders and reveal her white tank, her tattoos scrolling over her skin like filigree. The sight of it has me licking my lips, mouth dry like I need a drink and the only one around is Tamayo.
But before I can sate my thirst, her grip shifts to press me back, back, back to lie across the bar, hair and ass hanging off either edge. My knees are lifted until they rest on her shoulders, and her mouth carves a spit-slicked path from my tummy down to my thighs. My panties are wet with want, my core tight and impatient. I try to grab her head to guide her where I need her.
Tamayo tuts. “Don’t top from the bottom, princess, or I’ll have to put you in your place.”
“And what’s my place?” I don’t remove my hands. My skirt is scrunched up around my hips, my breasts are puckering in the cold air, and Tamayo is not touching me.
“Keep running that mouth, and you’ll find out.” She yanks me forward by my hips, and I yelp, off-balance and scrambling over the smooth wood to find somewhere to hold on. Her forearms band across my stomach to keep me in place as she presses kisses along my inner thighs.
I hold my breath in anticipation as hers caresses my skin, my lips, my clit, but never coalescing into the pressure of her tongue against me. “Tamayo.” I barely keep the whine out of my voice.
“Hm?” The sound huffs against my skin.
I almost grab her head again but clench my fists and release an irritated sigh instead. “Touch me.”
“Say please.” Her words shiver over my clit and up my spine.
I groan and fall back against the bartop. She spent time and energy convincing me, but now she wants me to beg. Me, a Gallo. I don’t beg. I try to raise my hips, to press my clit to her mouth still hovering over it, just out of reach. Her arm over my stomach clamps down harder, holding me in place. I wriggle harder against her grip.
Tamayo’s fingers dig into my inner thigh. “Patience, princess.”
Without thinking, I reach for her head to push her back where she’s most useful.
She pulls back out of my grip. “Hands to yourself.”
“Just—” I flop back with grunt. “Touch me!”
Tamayo throws one of my legs over the other and lands a smack on my lace-covered ass. Sweet-stinging pain reverberates through the cheek, up my back, and out of my throat with a breathy groan. And then she lands another. And another. Each one punches a moan out of my chest, the sound uncontrollable. Her rough callouses soothe over the sensitive skin. “Want to try that again?”
Maybe it’s because I can’t see her face or she can’t see mine, but I don’t control what comes out of my mouth next. “Which part, the spanking or the laying there, bored?”
Her hand, so gentle a second before, scratches harsh enough to rip lace. She hauls me off the bar and throws me over her shoulder as if I’m weightless. I slap her ass, which is directly in front of my eyes, and she reciprocates with her own, far more effective spank.
I bite down on the groan clogging my throat.
She lowers me to the ground, our bodies sliding against each other until my feet touch the ground and my face is staring at her tattooed neck now. Tamayo stands annoyingly unruffled and overdressed, whereas I stand topless in my rumpled skirt, hair frazzled, and panties soaking through. Heat flushes over my chest, up to my ears.
And her face is dangerously stern. “Bored, huh? Show me how it’s done, then. ”
“What?”
She runs her hands up my arms to the tops of my shoulders and applies gentle pressure, the signal clear: On your knees. But I wish her grip was back in my hair, pushing me downward with force, not allowing me the choice. And it wouldn’t matter, because I’d want it, too.
Tamayo smirks, her gaze darkening like she can hear my thoughts. Or maybe it’s the defiant tilt of my chin, my narrowed eyes, the telltale signs of refusal before I say a word that makes me so obvious. She steps back, feet meeting her throne-like chair and removing her hands in her own refusal to meet my challenge. “Show me what exciting oral is, princess, and I might make you come after.”
“Might?”
She cocks her head. “Depends if you’re a good girl or a cheeky slut.”
“Can’t I be both?”
“Not when I’m riding your face.”
A visceral shiver runs the length of my body, my nipples tightening and clit pulsing. It’s not even for me, but the image that paints itself across my brain removes all rebellion from my limbs. It’s Tamayo sitting on her veritable throne, legs wide, hands tight in my hair as she uses my tongue to make herself come. It’s my knees and jaw aching, her uncaring as she chases her pleasure. It’s the saliva building at the back of my mouth and trying to spill down my chin.
“Good,” she praises as I lower myself to kneeling before her. Her gaze roves over me, my body red and rumpled, as she removes her belt. She folds it in her hand and drags it over my jaw, my chest, my shoulders. I ignore the way my body shivers with each caress of the leather and focus on the last barrier between us. I unbutton her slacks, pull down the zipper, and slide her pants and briefs down her legs. They drop to her ankles as she lowers herself to sitting, legs wide, and picks up her glass that was abandoned on the side table. As if she’s about to hold a meeting rather than receive head.
She stares at me over the rim. “I’m waiting.”
I trace the flat plane of her stomach, follow the path from her navel to the core of her. Her pussy is pretty folds framed by trimmed, black hair. It looks soft and wet, beckoning my mouth to drink from her. I drag my hands up her legs. Soft hair whispers against my palms.
Tamayo shakes her head. “What did I say before?”
I frown for a moment before I realize— Hands to yourself. “Seriously?”
“Last warning.”
I don’t remove my hands from her knees. “Or what?”
She flicks her belt lightly against my knuckles. “I render them useless.”
Another image of my hands tied behind my back as Tamayo holds me in place, grinding against my face, pops into my head. And it heats me so deliciously, I almost push. I almost walk my fingers up her thighs until she snaps, pins my wrists together and does exactly what she’s promised. Almost. I’ll play good girl this time. Because her previous words leave a loophole.
Hands to yourself. Yes, ma’am, will do.
I settle them on top of my thighs and lean forward, biting and kissing my way from each knee toward the seam of her. She stares down her nose at me, taking sips of her drink as if she’s bored waiting for me to perform. And I should know by now that I can’t force a reaction, yet I still vow to wipe that bored expression off her face.
I dive in.
My tongue is almost as wet as her lips as I gather up as much of her sweetness as I can. I may want Tamayo to devour me, swallow me whole until I’m nothing but an exposed nerve, but fuck, I want to do the same to her. I want to eat her out until she’s a trembling mess and know that I was the cause. That I made her mask finally slip and shatter. I suck and lick, finding a rhythm that at least has her hips flinching every so often.
But she’s still drinking. Her face is still impassive. She even checks her fucking watch, like this is taking far too long. “This is your best?”
I huff through my nose, hands clenching into fists with the urge to pull her lips apart, to slip a finger inside and stroke her to madness. Instead, I suck her clit into my mouth and flick it with my tongue.
“Don’t hurt yourself, hm.” She sets down her empty drink and reaches forward to brush back my hair. And finally, finally , she wraps it tight in her fist and pulls. The movement detaches me from her, arches my neck at an awkward angle. I breathe heavy, Tamayo’s arousal dripping over my chin.
She offers me a mocking look of pity. “A for effort.”
“Fuck you,” I spit.
Her condescension morphs into dark intention. Like she expected this, maybe even hoped for it. “Tongue out. Open wide.”
A fizzle of arousal sparks through me. I don’t hesitate, mouth wide open and tongue wagging.
Tamayo yanks me forward, hovering above me as she drops a line of spit into my mouth. “Don’t swallow,” she says. And then she’s guiding my head by my hair to settle back between her thighs. Her spit slides over my tongue and lands on her clit as she presses herself against my face. “See, princess, I need pressure.”
Her fist is tight in my hair as she pulls my head forward and simultaneously grinds her hips hard. A moan tumbles out of me and vibrates against her pussy. She hums at that, like I did well. But I’m not doing anything. I’m just a tool, wielded by her harsh hands and burning up with arousal tinged with a hint of shame.
“And you—you’re more about the rhythm.” Her breath is heavier now. I stare up at her, eyes wide open as she uses me to find her pleasure. Her hair falls across her eyes, gaze hooded while she watches me watch her. “Do you know how I know that?”
I hum a no. My jaw is starting to ache, my scalp prickle.
“Because I pay attention,” she whispers like it’s a secret. Her hips jerk, her clit drags over my tongue, and I sit still like a good girl who wants to be used.
“I listen.” Her pace quickens, pressure harsher than before. A long moan drops out of her mouth. “But I can’t listen if you don’t speak up.”
My chin is sopping with my drool, with her wetness. I try to meet her thrusts, and she tugs my hair harder, a warning to stop. Finally, she’s falling apart above me, but it’s not because of me. I’m barely doing anything. And yet her chest is flushed, her body trembling on the edge of release, her movements losing all structure and devolving into a chaotic pursuit of pleasure.
My own clit is throbbing in my panties. Hands to yourself . I know it’s not what she meant, but I can’t hold myself back. Not when she’s moaning so deep, not when she’s so sweet on my tongue, not when each pull of my hair travels down my spine like static shock.
“Fuck. Yes, princess.” Her head is thrown back, the line of her neck perfect, and I have to relieve the pressure. My fingers slip over my panties, one single finger flicking over my clit. And just that amount of stimulation is enough to have my arousal climbing higher.
She rides my tongue while I find a rhythm that has my own hips jerking in small little jolts in an attempt to find more. The pressure isn’t fizzling, it’s building. Almost as quickly as Tamayo’s, her other hand grasping hold of my hair while her hips surge forward so hard, my teeth almost clack against her pelvis.
And then she’s coming on my tongue.
Sweetness floods over my tastebuds, over my lips and chin. A groan tumbles out of my throat as I lap up everything I can. My fingers quicken over my own clit, lifting me higher toward a crashing crescendo. Tamayo sags back, hands loosening in my hair as I kiss along the crease of her hips, her inner thigh.
And then her hands tighten in my hair with a punishing grip as she yanks me away from her pussy. “Hands,” she snaps.
I grin and lick over my cum-stained lips, my fingers continuing their pattern over my clit. I’m strokes away from hurtling into an orgasm. And with the look Tamayo’s shooting me—a glowering challenge—a few more will be enough.
Tamayo twists my head until I’m awkwardly watching her out of the corner of my eye. “Come once now at your own hand and no more for the rest of the night, or,” she says through clenched teeth, “put your hands on my knees. Now.”
My body tightens, teetering on the edge. I could topple. I could give in to this one, guaranteed burst of pleasure. But I know Tamayo doesn’t utter empty threats. She’ll edge me, just like she’s done the last week using only her words and the prospect of more, and not let me come again. But if I relent… Maybe in the future I’ll test her patience more, but today, I want to more pleasure than pain.
I force my fingers off my clit, splaying them over each of her knees, and affect innocence. “You said keep them to myself.”
She tongues her cheek.
My palms slide up her thighs, her skin soft like suede, reaching as far as her grip in my hair will let me. “I was just following directions.”
“Cheeky slut.” Tamayo shakes her head and stands, pulling me up with her. Each shift tugs on my scalp, and my hands fall off her body until they’re hanging at my sides. Her shirt hangs open over her chest as she steps out of her pants and shoes, forcing me backward. She rakes her gaze over me and licks her lips. My skirt is bunched around my waist, panties still on and likely glistening, breasts covered in goose bumps and nipples erect. And my face is covered in spit and cum. But she looks at me like I’m a painted Madonna, golden halo around my head.
“What were the consequences to using your hands?” she asks.
My breath catches. “You render them useless.”
She raises her free hand and opens it, her belt unfurling from her fist. “Color?”
I roll my eyes.
Her grip tightens in my hair. “Color.”
“Green.”
“Good girl.” Her voice is like a purr.
And goddammit, I hate that my body reacts to those words. My clit pulses with need, and desperation claws its way up my ribs. The feeling only heightens as she twists me around by my hair, releasing it to hold my wrists behind my back with one hand as she wraps her belt around them.
A shiver rips up my spine.
She hums, like she noticed, and the sound travels over my heated cheeks. She pulls the belt tight around my wrists, the leather soft and forgiving. Like with my hair, she uses it to move me, yanking me flush against her chest as she presses her fingers under my chin and captures my lips. I moan into the kiss, touched with pleasurable intent for the first time since she laid me out on the bar top.
My fingers yearn for her skin beneath them, reaching and seeking where they can. But she holds them in place against my lower back and does what I wish I could do to her—explores my body, travels the dips and curves of my neck to my collarbones over the swell of my breasts and down the slope of my stomach. Yet she avoids the core of me. She digs into my hips, my inner thighs, but never where I want her most. And all the while, she steals the air from my lungs with her kiss until my chest is heaving with the effort to breathe.
And then Tamayo is guiding me forward until my thighs hit the arm of the sofa and pressing me over it. I go without thinking, high on her kiss. My face falls into the leather, no way for me to hold myself up off the seat, my cheek pressing into the soft material and my hair falling over my face uncomfortably. She leans over me, lips dragging up my back and her body encompassing the whole of me as she traverses up my spine over my shoulders and sweeps my hair back for me.
Her lips pause at my ear, tongue flicking the lobe. “What to do with you, hm?” Her breath against my skin is both warm and cool where she licked. “How were you both cheeky and good? It baffles the mind.”
I breathe to answer, but the moment my mouth opens, she stuffs two fingers inside it.
“Ah-ah,” she chastises. “No more cheek, princess. I’ve had enough, I think.”
I swirl my tongue around her fingers and grind my ass back against her. She chuckles. “Still not learning, hm? Patience.”
I don’t stop—my hips or my tongue—and Tamayo sighs. “Fine, then.”
She pulls out of my mouth, spit trailing down my lips and over the sofa, and stands straight. Her hands leave my wrists, my body, and she steps away from my legs. I try to twist around to find her, but I can’t. The way I’m lying across the arm of the couch, my wrists tied behind my back, I don’t have the right leverage. Not without rolling half off the seat.
A smack lands on my ass. Hard.
I gasp. The spot stings and then dulls into a burn. Tamayo grabs each cheek, massaging and rubbing. It both soothes and deepens the feeling, driving it out of my ass and straight to my pussy, making me clench around nothing.
She spanks me again, in the same spot, and this time a moan is punched out of my lungs. Her fingers play with my cheeks, squeezing and then dropping them as if to watch them jiggle. I hide my face in the couch. But then she swipes up the seam of me, and I jolt, finally touched after so long.
She snorts, almost condescending. “You’re so wet. You like this, hm? Cheeky slut likes it when I spank her.”
My body is a blushing mess. I do like it, and I don’t know why.
“Is this why you don’t listen to me?” Her nails scrape over my skin, right where she smacked me twice. “You know you don’t have to act out. All you have to do is ask.”
Without thinking, I press back into her grip. Immediately, she spanks me once, twice, thrice. I shudder as the sharp bite of her hands twists into heightened sensitivity. The leather couch against my clit, my breasts, my face is like rough hands now.
“See, just ask.” She presses a kiss to the dip of my lower back, just below my bound wrists, at the same time she pulls off my panties. Cold air brushes over my wet pussy, and a whimper leaves my mouth without permission. Tamayo’s lips follow the path of my panties, kissing and licking down to my knees. She lifts each foot out of them, heels still strapped to my feet, and stands straight again.
Her hands dig into the meat of my ass again, thumbs pulling my cheeks apart, putting me on display. Shame wriggles over my skin and swirls into the cocktail of arousal, pleasure, pain, and growing desperation.
“Tamayo.” I draw her name out on a whine, like I’m asking for something. My hands try to find hers, but she swats them away as she yanks my hips back from the couch and kicks my legs apart. Spread wide open, face pressed into the seat, wrists tied, I can’t do a damn thing. I have barely enough leverage to tilt my hips, let alone press forward to find friction against the sofa.
And then she lies across my back, weight heavy but not suffocating. My hands are pinned between us as she threads her fingers through my hair and turns my head, not allowing me to hide anymore. “Did you like it when I used your face to make myself come? Did you like being treated like my toy?”
Another whimper escapes me without permission.
She kisses my cheek. “Speak up, princess.”
God damn it. “Yes. I liked it.”
“What else do you like?” She drags her nose along my cheekbone and back again.
I swallow hard. “When you spank me.”
Her nails scrape over my scalp. “And.”
I lick my lips. “When you fuck me into the sofa.”
She pulls back with a glint of mischief in her brown eyes and a smirk. “I’m not sure cheeky sluts deserve to be fucked into the sofa.”
“Tamayo.” I do my best to salvage what little dignity I still have.
A featherlight touch ghosts over my clit. “Beg.”
“What?” I frown.
Her fingers circle the tight bud for a heavenly moment before stopping again. “Beg me to fuck you.”
I grit my teeth. “Tamayo.”
She smacks it lightly, and I jolt with a choked moan. “Beg, princess.”
I bite my tongue and try to push back against her hand, but I can hardly move with her still lying over me and my legs too wide apart. Tamayo chuckles in my face, grip in my hair unrelenting as she simply waits. I cannot move without her. Not in any way that I need .
Tamayo dips the tip of her finger between the lips of my pussy and drags the wetness up to my clit, circles it once, and then pulls back. To land another smack on my ass. I choke on air.
“You can’t top from the bottom, princess,” she says. “Beg. ”
“God, fine!” I snap. I want to bury my face into the sofa again, but Tamayo’s grip is too tight. She watches with that stupid fucking smirk inches away from my nose as I finally give in with a whisper. “Please fuck me.”
She furrows her brow, pretending like her ear isn’t inches from my mouth. “What?”
I huff. “Please fuck me.”
She yanks my head back until my neck is craned, my face no longer touching the seat, and asks again. “What?”
“Please fuck me!”
“You only need to ask,” she teases.
If I could growl, I would. “Oh, fuck off?—”
She shoves my cheek into the couch again, using it as leverage to remove her weight from my back, and slips two fingers inside me. My mouth pops open, but all sound is stuck in my throat. Tamayo doesn’t tease anymore. She does exactly as I asked and fucks me into the sofa.
Each stroke drags against that sweet spot inside me. Shudders start at my core, twitching my hips what little they can and climbing as little whimpers out of my throat. Tamayo’s hold doesn’t allow me to throw my ass back into her hand, to bury my face to hide from the overwhelming build of pressure, to adjust my chest as my nipples rub against the leather. All I can do is give in to the pleasure, let it swallow me whole and spit me back out whenever it’s done with me. Whenever Tamayo is done with me.
She adds another finger, and I can’t muffle the guttural groan that drips out of my mouth.
“No more cheeky comebacks, princess?” Tamayo’s voice is low and dark, as tangible as her hand in my hair. “Needed to be fucked quiet, hm?” She quickens her pace. My pussy is so wet, I can feel it on my thighs, hear the filthy squelch each time she thrusts inside. And after weeks of teetering at the edge of giving in, tortured by the possibility of more than teasing touches and lilting smirks, I am close to finally falling.
“Tamayo.” Her name unfurls out of me on a moan. “I’m cl—I’m gonna?—”
“Come, princess.”
As if her permission was the last push I needed, my orgasm washes over me. My pussy contracts so hard it reverberates around my spine until I’m arching against her fist in my hair. Goose bumps erupt over my skin as if I’m cold, but all I can feel is melting heat devouring my body whole as I shudder through the onslaught of pleasure.
And Tamayo doesn’t stop.
Her fingers quicken even more, and her thrusts sharpen their aim.
My orgasm morphs into overstimulation. Her hand in my hair yanks, and the sting fizzes over my scalp, down my neck. My body can’t relax, every muscle pulled tight against the pleasurable pain. Even though my feet barely touch the ground and Tamayo’s pinned me down, I’m still trying to crawl up the sofa and out of reach of her punishing fingers.
A whimpered keen drags out of me. “Wait, wait?—”
“Yellow if you want me to slow down, princess,” she offers me an out.
And yet I don’t take it. Because I want exactly this—this all-encompassing, brain hazing, logic-devouring feeling of letting go. Pain and arousal fight for dominance inside me. It sounds like I’m sobbing, but I don’t know if that’s out loud or in my head. Her fingers don’t let up, determined and sure as they stroke inside me. Tamayo’s pushed me over the brink once, and already I’m dangerously close to crashing again, all without touching my clit. It’s been left alone to open air, chilly and wet and tight with its own heartbeat.
“Tamayo,” I beg. For her to stop or keep going, I don’t know .
“You can take it, princess,” she says, quiet and encouraging.
And then she finally presses my clit, and it’s like a fucking detonator. Everything explodes. Again.
I can hardly comprehend anything outside of my own body, but I think I hear Tamayo whisper, “Good girl.”