Chapter 6
Cassie
There’s something absurdly sexy about the contrast between the two sides of Simon. There’s the guy who makes goofy jokes about rubber scrapers and plays drums with my kitchen utensils.
Then there’s the alpha-male version who made my whole body scream with need the instant he slapped that spatula against his palm.
I kinda like both.
But right now, it’s the alpha version who’s making my blood sing as he yanks out my low, padded barstool and points to it.
“On your knees,” he says, spinning me around to face the counter.
He pushes me down with a gentle palm in the small of my back, and I go willingly.
I brace myself on the edge of the counter the instant my knees sink onto the cushioned stool.
We’re both still fully clothed, and something about that makes it even hotter than if we were totally naked.
He reaches over and hits the dimmer switch for the light over my kitchen bar, transforming the bright glare into something soft and warm.
Then he slides his hands up my thighs and pushes my skirt up around my hips.
I suck in a breath as his palm skims the satin of my bikini panties.
From the corner of my eye, I see his other hand grab the orange spatula off the counter.
“Very nice,” he says, and I’m not sure if he’s talking about my ass, my undies, or my taste in kitchen gadgets.
His hand grazing my ass leaves me feeling fiery and eager for him to keep doing this.
Goosebumps skate up my arms as he continues caressing me.
His touch is feathery and light, and I lean into it, craving more.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he says, pushing me back into position. One of his hands leaves my body, and I hear myself give a small moan of frustration.
Simon laughs. Then I hear the unmistakable sound of his belt being unbuckled. My mouth starts to water, and I try to imagine what he has in mind. When his other hand leaves my ass, I crane my head to look.
He’s standing there in boxer briefs and pulling his shirt off. Tossing it aside, he gives me a stern look and picks up the spatula. “Did I say you could turn around?”
“Just enjoying the view.”
The smack is quick and unexpected, jolting me forward against the counter. My right ass cheek stings, and I gasp aloud—half shock, half pleasure.
“Turn around,” he commands.
I’m tempted to disobey, hoping he’ll punish me with another smack. But I do what he says, my flesh still tingling where the spatula made contact.
“There you go.” His voice is low and close to my ear, and I realize he’s leaning down over me. Then I feel it. Something hard and smooth grazing the back of my panties. It’s his cock, and he’s skimming it over the very cheek he just smacked, soothing it through the thin satin of my panties.
I moan and press into him again. I’m soaking wet and dying to have him yank the panties down my thighs so he can sheathe himself inside me again, just like he did Saturday night. I’ve been feeling him for days, craving the thickness of him sliding all the way to the hilt.
But he keeps my panties in place and continues to tease me.
He glides all that glorious length into the cleft of my ass, rubbing and pressing until I moan again.
The head of it grazes my tailbone, and I close my eyes.
Jesus, I had no idea my tailbone was any sort of erogenous zone.
The pressure feels amazing, and Simon seems to know it.
His fingers slide into the hair at the nape of my neck, then tighten around it.
I feel my eyes go wide as he wraps his fist around my makeshift ponytail and pulls back.
The pressure is firm, but not a yank. Not anything that’s going to snap my neck, but it’s sure as hell letting me know he’s in charge.
“You like that?” he murmurs into my ear. “You like feeling my cock up against your ass like that?”
I nod, and since he’s still gripping my hair in his fist, it pulls tighter. I’m amazed by how much I love it. He gives another soft tug, sending tingles of sensation from the root of each hair all the way to my toes.
The next smack lands on the outside of my left ass cheek, and I yelp and buck against him. He pins me in place, his body pressed against mine, his lips still grazing my ear. His fist still grips my hair, and my flesh sizzles where he slapped it.
“You want to feel me inside you?”
“Yes.”
The word comes out strangled, which probably belies just how badly I want that. Urgently. I can feel my whole body clenching with the thought of having him again.
“Not yet,” he murmurs against my throat.
He kisses me there, feathery, light brushes of his lips all the way from the nape of my neck to my ear.
He lets go of my hair, and I hate to admit I’m disappointed.
But then he grabs the hem of my top and pulls it up and over my head.
My hair tangles on a button, and I realize even that sensation turns me on.
He tosses the top aside and reaches for me again. I’m still wearing my bra and pleased to recall I wore my prettiest set. Yellow satin and lace, with bikini panties that feel silky to the touch. My sisters would approve.
For crying out loud, stop thinking about your sisters.
My skirt is still hiked up around my hips, and I hope he’s enjoying the view as much as I’m enjoying everything he’s done to me so far.
Simon leans down again and plants a light kiss in the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. He kisses his way across my shoulder and down, landing a slow, feathery trail down my spine.
When he gets to my ass, I shiver. He kisses the spot where he delivered the spatula blow moments before, then takes his time getting to the other side.
By the time he’s kissed both cheeks thoroughly, I’m practically dripping with need.
I don’t know if he’s done this a million times before or what, but the man certainly knows how to tease every last nerve.
How to alternate between whisper-soft caresses that leave my flesh humming and firm, stinging smacks that make my blood fizz with delight.
“What do you think?” he muses. “Should we take off these panties?”
“Yes, please.”
He laughs and slides his fingers into the waistband. “So polite.”
He takes his time pulling them down my thighs, and I move one knee, then the other, so he can tug them off over my ankles. It occurs to me that I still have my shoes on, and I wonder if I look like a porn star. I kinda feel like one, and I like that. I like it a lot.
With my panties gone and my skirt hiked up over my hips, I feel exposed.
I’m leaning with my elbows on my kitchen counter wearing just my bra and skirt and a pair of high-heeled shoes I practiced in all weekend so I wouldn’t look like a hack.
If I’m going to be the brazen vixen who fulfills all her sexual fantasies, I damn sure want to look the part.
Simon’s palm skims my left ass cheek again, and I know what’s coming. My skin prickles with anticipation. I hold my breath, waiting for it.
But the smack lands on my right cheek instead, harder this time.
I gasp as my flesh sings, a high, sharp pitch that rings in my ears.
Every nerve in my lower half is on fire, and I’m still reeling from it when he smacks me again.
It’s the left cheek this time, closer to my tailbone, and I realize he’s taking great care not to strike the same spot twice in rapid succession.
“Simon, please,” I beg, not entirely sure what I’m asking for. Another smack? His fist in my hair again?
No, that’s not it. And he seems to know it.
“You want my cock inside you?”
I nod, too mind-whacked to form words. But he wants more.
“Say it,” he says.
I crane my neck and throw an insolent look over my shoulder. “Simon says fuck me.”
The smack lands hard on my right cheek, just like I hoped it would. I cry out, more pleasure than pain, though I’m realizing what a delicious combination the two can be.
I also realize Simon’s poised to grant my wish, since I caught a glimpse of a condom in his hand when I turned to look. Sure enough, he plants his palms on my ass and pushes me forward, spreading me open as he does.
“So fucking beautiful,” he grinds out as his dick glides against my slippery folds. “And so goddamn wet.”
I am wet. I’ve never been this wet before, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out if he doesn’t slide inside me right here, right now.
Sensing my need, he grabs a fistful of my hair again and gives a light tug. I feel my back arching and my ass tipping up to give him the perfect angle. He takes it.
In one easy stroke, he buries himself to the hilt. I cry out, filled to my breaking point with pleasure. He’s still tugging my hair, but I feel his grip loosen as he leans down to whisper in my ear. “How do you want it?” he murmurs. “Slow and deep, or hard and fast?”
“Yes, to all of it,” I pant, feeling like a kid in a candy shop. I want everything. Gummy bears and chocolate nibs and salt licorice and Simon pounding into me over and over again until I come my brains out.
He laughs, and for a second I think he’s read my thoughts. But he’s read my eagerness instead, and he seems happy to indulge me. He sets the spatula down on the counter and grabs my hips with both hands. “Very well.”
He starts out slow, letting me feel the full length of him sliding all the way in, then back out again until he’s almost pulled out completely.
The walls of my sex clutch him with greedy need as he pushes in again, impossibly deep this time.
I groan and grip the edge of the counter with one hand, slipping my fingers between my legs.
“That’s it,” he urges. “Touch your clit.”
I hardly need permission, but I’m thrilled to know he wants me to. That it might actually turn him on. I had a boyfriend once who felt threatened by it. Who thought it was some sort of threat to his manhood if I touched myself in bed.
But Simon knows how female anatomy works. Good God, does he ever.
I can feel the orgasm building inside me. The bone-deep kind, the kind that goes on for endless, breathless seconds and leaves you feeling the aftershocks days later. I cry out when the first wave hits me.
Smack!
It’s my left cheek this time, and he smacked it with an open palm. It stings like holy hell, but oh-my-fucking-God the pleasure. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt, raw and throbbing with every nerve in my body screaming.
I’m still coming, harder than I’ve ever come in my life, and this time I feel his palm land hard on my right cheek. The smack of skin on skin sends another blast of pleasure through me, and I cry out again.
“Cassie,” he groans, and I realize he’s close, too. As I ride every last wave of this orgasm, it dawns on me that I’m not the only one feeling out of control here. He moans in my ear, and I can feel his cock pulsing inside me as he thrusts into me again and again.
My skin is still humming when he goes still. Slowly, he slides his hand off my ass. He pulls out of me, and I straighten up and turn around. He kisses me on the mouth, surprisingly tender after the paddling he just gave my backside.
As he slips into the bathroom to get rid of the condom, I tug my skirt down and glance around for my top. Simon comes back from the bathroom and flashes me a grin that’s almost sheepish.
“You okay?”
Something twists in my heart at the thought that he’s concerned with my well-being. Maybe it’s that he doesn’t want me to call the cops, but I’m pretty sure that’s not it.
“I’m great.” I’m trying for upbeat and cool, but I sound a little breathless. I hop off the barstool and smooth the front of my skirt with my palms. Where did my shirt go?
“Here.” He finds it under my dining room table and hands it to me, and I pull it on. Why does getting dressed after sex always feel more intimate than getting undressed before it?
Simon pulls on his boxer briefs and jeans, but leaves his shirt off. I’m fully dressed again, and I pat my hair down and meet his gaze. He smiles and steps forward to take me into his arms. I hug back, surprised by how familiar this feels.
Even more familiar than having him inside me. My whole body is purring, and I think I could die right now and be happy.
“That was incredible,” he murmurs into my hair.
“Unreal,” I agree.
“Was it what you thought it would be?”
I smile at the sweetness of the question.
He’s not fishing for an ego stroke the way some guys would be.
He really wants to know how the reality matched my fantasy.
“Kinda,” I reply. “I like the contrast of pleasure and pain. I don’t think I would have been into it if you’d just paddled me raw without all those soothing little touches. ”
“Good. I’m glad you liked it.” He draws back a little to look at me. “You still up for this? The rest of The List, I mean?”
I nod, grateful he’s checking in with me. That he thinks to make sure my brain is on the same page as the rest of my body. “Yeah,” I tell him. “I’m having fun.”
“Fun,” he repeats. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”
“Me, too.”
He pulls me in for another hug, and I slide my arms around his waist once more. As I tighten my hold on him, I remind myself to keep a firm grip on my heart.