22. Saar
Chapter 22
Saar
G ood girl.
I stare at him, my heartbeat drumming in my head and air slipping from my lungs. An insatiable ache flows through my veins, spreading fiery lust. “I have never had my pussy spanked.”
I had a healthy sex life before. Or so I thought. With Corm, in this moment, I’m self-conscious about my lack of experience. Judging by the flash of desire in his eyes, my answer pleases him.
“It would be my honor to be your first.” He winks, but there is no jest in his tone. It’s grave with need. Jesus, this man is intense.
Still, I find comfort behind his lighthearted comment. I bite my bottom lip, my heart and mind racing. I want this so much, but at the same time it feels like I’m giving up something.
“Stop overthinking, baby. It’s a simple question: Do you want to have your pussy spanked?”
Fuck, the timbre of his voice quivers through my body, adding to the languid lava already bubbling inside me. “I think so?”
I have never shied away from a good time, so what am I considering?
Because something shifted tonight, and having casual fun is no longer on the table. And that is way more than I bargained for when I agreed to this arrangement.
With his thumb, he traces my lip, my jaw, my cheek. The admiration in his eyes is almost too much. I don’t deserve it, but he still rewards me with it, and it feels so genuine it’s unbearable.
Now, I’m standing in front of this man who decided to give us a try—whatever that means—and… well, careful what you wish for.
His adoration is so intimate, so honest, so unconditional, I want to look away to shield myself.
But I don’t, because as scary as this connection is, it also makes me feel alive for the first time in I don’t know how long.
“I will need a more definite answer, baby.” He kisses my forehead.
It’s gentle, and in such contrast to the topic of our conversation that I close my eyes to cope with the overwhelming feeling.
“Will it hurt?” I wrinkle my nose, heat rising to my cheeks as I try to hold on to my confidence.
“Obviously.” I could hear the smirk even with my closed eyes.
I huff, but I’m grateful he brings playfulness into this. Or his assholeness, I don’t know which.
“Look at me, Saar.”
It’s a demand, but there is softness behind it. I pry my eyes open.
“The border between pain and pleasure is very thin. The hurt will be fleeting compared to pleasure, but we don’t have to go there.”
“I thought I have no say in the bedroom.”
He shakes his head. “You have all the say, baby. I may be writing the script, but you’re directing the play. Do you trust me to offer the best scenario?”
I nod, swallowing.
“Is that a yes?”
He runs the whip up my thigh, its leather tassels erupting small explosions all over my skin and across my center. I’m clenching and shaking and gasping, and having so many visceral reactions I want to bolt and stay at the same time.
“Yes,” I say, with such resolution I surprise us both.
“Good girl,” he growls.
And again, the words do things to me I would never admit. It’s just a phrase. But fuck if I don’t want to be his good girl.
He reaches behind me and unclasps the handcuffs, only to secure them again with my hands in front of me.
The whole time, his cock twitches. His engorged length is an encouraging reminder I’m not the only one affected here.
The anticipation builds up between my thighs as he drags the tassels up my ass and spine, across my shoulders, and between my breasts. I think I’m going to black out.
He kisses me roughly, and then swats with the whip, again only grazing the skin of my hip. “On the bed.”
I try to walk across the room with some grace and dignity, but twelve fucking years of promenading myself on runways around the world and I almost trip over the few feet.
Sitting on the mattress, I look at Corm. He really is gorgeous. I didn’t get a chance to admire him before, but the man is flawless. Sublime. Arresting.
“On your back, your hands above your head.” He prowls around the bed, tapping the whip on his other palm.
I obey, scooting farther and lying across the mattress, trepidation and arousal cruising through my body.
He comes to my feet and traces my skin with the leather in his hands. I buckle, so oversensitive to any contact by now I may just climax from his gaze.
“Spread those beautiful legs for me,” he drawls.
I open for him, because I no longer question anything. I only want this to move on and get to the main program. He pushes my knees farther apart and kneels between them at the edge of the bed.
“You keep your arms above your head. I’m going to start with five for your sass earlier, and then I’m going to eat that delicious pussy of yours, but if you move your arms, I’ll punish you again. Understood.”
I nod eagerly, and the bastard chuckles. He picks up my leg and puts it on his shoulder, peppering my ankle with gentle kisses. I get so distracted and confused by his tender routine that the first slap catches me by surprise.
“What the fuck?” I cry out, but he whips without mercy until he lands all five.
The sensation is blazing, but it ignites a decadent need I’ve never felt before. Fuck, this hurts, and I want more.
Corm drops the whip beside us and leans in, kissing me gently between my legs. “Look at you, baby, dripping for me. Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, I need…” I can’t talk.
He flattens his tongue and runs it through my throbbing folds. “What do you need?”
“I need to come,” I whimper.
He leaves the task, glowering at me from between my thighs.
What the fuck? Why did he stop? He raises his eyebrow, challenging me, and I scramble to figure out what’s going on, and then it hits me.
Fucker.
“Please,” I practically wail.
Oh my. He thrusts his tongue into my channel with such dedication, I almost black out. Pushing my thighs apart, he digs his palms into my skin, holding me in place while I thrash and squirm, trying to buck.
“You taste so good.” He spreads me with his fingers and blows.
The cold air on my pulsating pussy elevates the sensation to a new, unbearable level. And why did he change the pace? I can’t stand it.
I bring my arms down and grip his hair. He jerks away, and before I realize what’s happening, the whip comes down five more times.
I cry, or moan, or roar; I’m not sure what the sound that comes out of me is. “I can’t; I can’t anymore…” I whine.
“Arms,” he growls.
Shit. “Corm, I swear to God—”
He puts the whip’s handle across my lips, and I shut up and move my arms back above my head. He smirks and dives back in. Thank fucking God.
He builds me up with his talented tongue, and then he lifts to his knees and starts grazing my skin gently with the whip. Up my leg, around my belly, over my breasts.
“What are you doing?” I’m practically mad with desire by now.
“What does it look like?” He leans down and takes one nipple into his mouth while moving the whip around my throat, down my arm.
“Corm, I begged,” I cry with frustration. “What else do you want?”
He smiles at me with the most devilish grin known to mankind. I swear, I can feel it between my legs.
He pulls up higher, bracketing my face with his forearms and covering my body with his.
“I want you to have the best orgasm of your life, baby.” His nose is just inches from mine, his breath warm on my skin.
His mouth fuses with mine, and I taste myself and him and… us. It makes me wild, filled with urgency, with so much hunger for him I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied.
This kiss is different from any before. I don’t know if it’s the result of the edging and my currently oversensitive nerves, but he owns me with this kiss.
It’s possessive and worshiping.
It’s blinding and enlightening.
It’s everything and not enough.
It’s a kiss that makes me forget about my needy pussy. Almost. I’m still quivering with the need.
“Corm, please.” I’m ready to get on my knees and beg. I’m not above anything anymore, my mind wiped out by yearning.
He pushes to his knees; somehow he produces a condom. Throwing my legs over his shoulder, he yanks me closer and fills me with one aggressive thrust.
I cry out with pleasure and pain and relief and everything in between, just completely overcome with the most potent cocktail of sensations.
He sets a punishing tempo, but I’m not complaining, finally getting closer to my release. I want to move my hands to touch him, but somehow that obstacle heightens the thrill.
“Eyes on me, Saar.”
His words register through the fog of bliss. “What?”
“I want you to watch what you do to me,” he pushes through his teeth, barely hanging onto his control.
I lock my eyes on him. It’s a beautiful thing to see this man surrender. So beautiful that it pushes me over the edge.
A freight train of an orgasm rams through me, breaking me into pieces and putting me together at the same time.
I’m still in a haze, high on my release, when Corm tenses deep inside. He roars something, throwing his head back before he collapses on top of me.
I wrap my arms and legs around him, surprised I have any energy left to move. He lifts his head and kisses me.
“What kind of losers have you been with if you ever thought you couldn’t get wet without lube?”
I chuckle. “You really want to talk about my former lovers?”
“Fuck,” he grumbles. “Forget I said anything.”
I laugh, feeling lighter and happier than I have in months. “Running the risk your ego will suffocate me, that was the best orgasm of my life.”
He looks at me with a passion that spreads a warm feeling through me. I’m probably drunk on hormones, but his look feels like a commitment.
Definitely drunk on hormones.
“Can I have my hands back?”
He unclasps the cuffs, kissing my wrists with such reverence I want to slap him. Because really, this thing between us was so much safer when we hated each other.
“Are you sore?”
“A bit.”
He frowns. “Sorry.”
“I loved every minute of it.”
He raises his eyebrow. “You were quite whiny for a moment there.”
I poke his ribs. “Asshole.”
“As always.” He kisses me. “Let’s shower, and then I need to fuck you against that vanity there.”
He jumps up and scoops me up bridal-style.
I grin. “You’re insatiable.”
I stare at the ceiling, Corm’s soft breathing a rhythmic soundtrack to my sleeplessness.
We’re giving this thing between us a real try.
Several orgasms later, in the shower, against the mirror, and back in this bed, I think giving it a real try is fucking amazing.
But he didn’t mean sex only. His gaze on me when he fucked me had the intensity of a commitment.
Let’s face it, I’ve been in a committed relationship with my work only. I’m not against it, but it wasn’t on my radar. I had no time, and my hookups were there for the ride, mostly because they knew I didn’t have room for anything serious.
I was kind of hoping to be by myself for a bit. To truly find myself. Can I do that in Corm’s all-consuming presence?
Especially in my current desolate financial state. Someone has stolen my identity? Betting under my name? Was it Marie? Or maybe someone in her family?
I was grateful for yesterday’s diversion from the topic. It was not like I could do anything before we understand what happened, but now, staring at the ceiling, without Corm’s talented hands, tongue, and cock distracting me, anxiety slips in.
How am I even going to defend myself against it all? Owing people I don’t know? Turning my head, I look at the man beside me. His peaceful face gives me a bit of a confidence. At least I don’t have to face this alone.
But my money is truly, really gone. Even if Maria is convicted of embezzling, I’ll not be able to recover any of it.
Dad’s trust fund is my only option for financial independence. And then what?
What did Corm mean by a real try ? Do we stay married? Do I want to be married?
I roll on to my side and watch him. His broad chest is rising and falling, the movement spreading peace through me.
Propping myself on my elbow, I let my gaze kiss his face. Without the frown or the scowl, it’s even more beautiful.
The sheets are tangled over us haphazardly, and I lift the cover slightly to look at his impressive cock. I never considered the appendage visually attractive, but that was before I saw and experienced Cormac Quinn.
And a sample of his goods is not enough. I move to my knees, careful not to disturb him, and I peel the sheets away.
He makes a sound and throws his forearm over his face. His knee bends on the mattress. Giving me better access?
Is he up? I glance at his covered face, his lips slightly parted, his breathing still regular. And like a starved woman, I curl between his legs and without touching him, I lower my head and lick him from the base to the crown.
A rumble makes its way from deep in his throat, and his cock twitches. I wrap my hand around him and swipe my tongue around his tip. He tastes clean and sinful, and a bit like me. It’s an intoxicating palate.
I take him into my mouth and suck gently. I don’t rush things, just enjoying. The harder he grows, the more wet I get. It’s a heady feeling as the ache builds up in my core.
I glance up and startle when my eyes meet his hooded gaze. I smile around his girth, not letting his piercing eyes distract me. But they are.
They spur me forward and make me want to pause at the same time. And as if he could hear my thoughts, he cups my cheek gently and rasps, “Go on, baby. This is quite the beginning of the day.”
Fuck, his just-woken-up voice is sexy. And his encouragement does the trick, and I bob my head, sucking like this is my favorite ice cream.
My saliva is coating his skin, drooling down my chin. I never understood how this visual is appealing to men, but based on Corm’s deep humming, my state of choked up and messy doesn’t deter him.
He bucks his hips, getting his tip farther than I anticipated, and I fight my gag reflex. What I also fight is the growing need in my pussy. Corm grips my hair and takes over the rhythm.
I can’t breathe, I can’t see through my tears, and yet the only thing that reigns over me is my growing ache.
Greedily, I shove two of my fingers inside me, but I whimper around him because it’s not enough.
“Do you want to come, baby?”
I can’t talk, so I nod eagerly, half prepared for him to bully me into begging, or deciding it’s his turn or some other frustrating bullshit—that in hindsight always ends up being about me more than him—but he surprises me.
I yelp as he sits up, grabs me under my arms and before I blink, I’m on all fours with him behind me.
“Grab the headboard. This won’t be gentle.”
Fuck, his manhandling with his threat… No, no, his promise… has my center clenching.
He pushes his tip inside me, and I tense, not sure why. Like after barely fitting him into my mouth, I’m worried about his size. It makes no sense, since he stretched me deliciously several times tonight.
He snakes his hand to reach my nipple and tweaks it. “Relax, baby, let me in.”
Let me in.
I don’t know if it’s his words or his hands, but my pussy responds. I guess he was talking to her, anyway.
He fills me, and stills for a moment. My body tries to adjust to his intrusion, but I’m sore after the night we had.
Any thoughts of discomfort disappear when he moves in a frenzy. Good that he told me to grab the headboard, because I would have cracked my skull.
The bed bangs against the wall in the background of my hazy mind as an immense pleasure takes over, and I come, wave after wave of pleasure washing over me.
Corm follows immediately with a roar, but he doesn’t stop pounding me, prolonging my bliss into oblivion. I think I’m going to die. But then I’ve already been to heaven.
He collapses onto his back and pulls me to him. We pant, sweaty and spent.
As the fog slowly dissipates, so does my euphoria. “Fuck, Corm.” I sit up and almost collapse, my head swirling from the sudden movement. “Condom.”
He looks at me with a lazy smile and shrugs.
What the hell? I raise my hand to slap him, but he catches my wrist and pulls me to him.
I struggle to wriggle away, so he rolls us over and covers me with his huge body, holding my wrists above my head.
I thrash, trying to get away from him, but it’s a lost battle. “You knew! You did it on purpose. I don’t fucking want your STDs.”
He chuckles and lets his body sink a bit, practically suffocating me. If I wasn’t so mad, I would actually enjoy his warmth and, as much as I hate to admit to myself, the show of power.
“Calm down. I didn’t plan it. I realized once I was in. I don’t have STDs.”
“What if I have any?” I spit the stupid argument.
“Then I have them too now.” His expression is completely nonchalant, no smirk, no mocking.
“Are you out of your mind? That was irresponsible.”
“It was. From both of us,” he says calmly. That shuts me up for a beat, because yes, it’s not just his responsibility.
“But you were the one who remembered, and you decided for both of us that it was okay?”
Fuck, his scent is distracting. And his warmth. His breath so close to my face.
He kisses my forehead. “Pretty much.”
I growl in frustration. “What if I get pregnant?”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
I writhe, or attempt to, but it’s impossible to move under him. “Let me go, Corm. What, do you have some breeding kink?”
He pinches my chin between his thumb and finger. “I have a you kink, The Morrigan.”