Eighteen #3
“That’s because you’re mine.” He strokes his hand over my bottom, squeezing gently. I shudder in pleasure at his touch, the contrast of harsh and soft.
“You don’t own me.” The words come out on a breath, lacking the force I was trying to put behind them.
“Don’t I?”
“No, you bastard—”
“When you respond to me so well?”
“It’s not response, it’s—”
“Even when I’m not with you, I fill your thoughts and dreams.”
I falter.
He’s guessing. He can’t know that. It’s ego speaking, nothing more.
I bluff it out. “My nightmares, you mean.”
“Mmm, because you hate this so much.” He pushes a finger inside me, and I’m so wet it glides in easily.
“I hate you,” I say through clenched teeth, keeping my jaw locked to prevent myself from moaning.
“Me, huh?” he says, amusement in his tone. “Let’s go with that, then. Implicit agreement that you don’t, in fact, hate what I’m doing to you at all.”
“What kind of fucked up logic is—”
“You’re so wonderfully aroused and wet. Is it being pinned? Or do you like pain more than you’re willing to admit?”
Complicated questions. I give him an answer I don’t have to think about. “No one likes pain, you asshole.”
“Everyone likes pain,” he contradicts. “Ever licked a cut on your lip? Or scratched a mosquito bite until it hurt, and kept going? It’s only a matter of degrees.”
Damn it. He might be right again.
“Are you going to lift your bottom like a good girl?”
“Go to hell, Van Wyk.”
“Lukas,” he says.
Then he rains down blow after blow on my ass, until I’m squirming and gasping on the bed. My flesh is on fire, my skin burning, and I can’t move enough to avoid his spanks.
We’re both breathing hard by the time he stops, and I can’t muffle the sobs that escape.
“It’s particularly beautiful when it’s colored red like this.” He sounds almost reverent. Then his palm caresses me lightly, and this time my whimpers won’t be refused. It’s too much; the pain, the pleasure, the damn sensuality of it all.
How aroused I am.
“There we go,” he says in satisfaction, and his hand leaves the back of my neck for the first time since he walked in here. It takes me a moment to realize I’ve lifted my hips, and before I can press them down again, he’s slid a pillow beneath me.
“Cheating bastard.” I reach down to pull it free.
“Hands.” The word snaps out, his tone no longer playfully civil.
I pause in mid-movement, then reluctantly take my grip on the headboard once more. “This isn’t a goddamn game.”
“Yes, it is. And if you let go of those bars again, you lose.”
I know what that means.
“Haven’t you punished me enough?” My ass is sore and bruised, the ache deep into my flesh.
“This was for not taking off your robe and lying on the bed. There’s still the small matter of you trying to shoot me.”
Shit. That’s going to be a million times worse, I know it is.
“Legitimate home defense,” I mutter in protest.
“Legitimately punishing what’s mine to punish,” he replies, picking up the tub of Ben & Jerry’s. There’s a distinctive scrape of cardboard as he peels the lid off.
It takes me a second to realize his intentions. “No! Don’t…”
Cold, wet ice cream lands on my ass, already soft and half-melted, sticky as it trickles over my skin. My body tightens and I close my eyes, hissing in a breath through my teeth.
“Goddamn mess of the sheets,” I mutter. “And my pillow.”
That pulls another chuckle from him. “I was planning to clean it up.” The tub is returned to the nightstand, and his weight dips the mattress.
Then he places a kiss on the top of my ass.
“What are you—”
My words dissolve as his tongue pushes between my cheeks, lapping at the ice cream that’s flowed there. I gasp aloud, unable to control myself, knuckles whitening as I grip the bars to steady myself.
His tongue is warm, his licks slow and insistent. His hands grip my cheeks, spreading me open, and he licks again and again. In moments, I’m moaning, and I can’t help it. Nothing should ever feel like this does.
He feasts on me, taking his time, making soft noises in his throat as he licks me as much as the damn ice cream.
A trickle runs down over my labia, cold and sticky, and he chases it with his tongue, pushing his face against me.
My hips rise further, and I don’t bother to fight it.
So help me, but I want more of what he’s doing to me.
Cleaning up the mess he made of me.
His tongue feels like it’s everywhere: pushing into my pussy, licking up between my cheeks, teasing my clit. Most of the ice cream has gone, but he doesn’t stop. I press my head against the mattress, arching my back, and I don’t want to protest anymore.
“You taste divine,” he murmurs.
His finger pushes inside me, and I’m so aroused that I can’t help but clench around him. He strokes my g-spot with the lightest of touches, teasing me, and places a soft kiss on my bottom.
It’s disconcerting that he’s being so gentle. Why hasn’t he just… pinned me down and fucked me or something?
“Is this my punishment?” I shut my mouth with a snap, but it’s too late. The words are said.
“No, Little Stray, don’t worry.” He rises up over me, his hand sliding around the back of my neck again, holding me down. “This is only the interlude.”