15. Willa
Chapter 15
Willa
I was strapped down, spread open, exposed, and waiting to be spanked in a sex club.
What the hell?
Thoughts whirled in my mind, moving in a hundred different directions, most of them full of self-recrimination and disbelief at my current condition.
I was still debating blurting out my safe word, when Killian’s big, rough hand landed a wallop on my ass. Holy shit, he had a hand like a two by four.
“Fuck, Willa, I can see my handprint perfectly on your skin,” he murmured, and I swear I felt his tongue swipe the spot. I wasn’t complaining, I would take anything that might dull the pain and his tongue was better than nothing. My thoughts were, again, broken by his hand landing on the other cheek, causing me to gasp and cry out. Had I really consented to this?
That spank was followed by another. And another. And another and soon I truly believed I was out of my mind to think I’d enjoy this. I was perilously close to screaming the word “red” and ending this entire experiment.
Before I could open my mouth, Killian rubbed his large hand over my flaming cheeks, murmuring words of praise, approval and erotic appreciation. His fingers slid between my legs and I was astounded to feel that I was not only still wet, I was drenched.
He slid two fingers inside of me, then pulled them out to swirl them around my pulsing clit. It was as if the moment he touched my pussy, my body had been a banked fire and now it was exploding with heat and need.
“Please, please, please,” I was steadily begging, unsure of what I was even asking for. More spanking? I hated to say it, but maybe. More touching? Hell yes.
“Fuck, yes,” he breathed, and I turned my head to see him staring down at his hand between my legs. “Willa, you should see how hot your ass looks, all red from my hand. How sexy your tight, wet little cunt looks as I slide my fingers in.”
Lust barreled through me as I watched his features contort with predatory desire and possession.
He pulled his hand away and I groaned with dismay. Heavy, painful swats landed on my ass and upper thighs and I yelped in agony. Why did this turn me on? It was awful.
Before long, his hand was once again between my legs and all that pain transformed into an almost hypnotic pleasure. Everything that had previously signaled agony had gotten swallowed by the ecstasy now humming through my system like a narcotic. I squirmed and moaned as his rough fingers found every sensitive, pleasure-giving nerve ending, my muscles quivering and tightening as I surged toward orgasm, but just as it was about to happen, he stopped.
“No! Don’t sto—'' I groaned but was abruptly cut off when I felt the slap of his palm directly on my pussy.
Oh my god, did that fucking hurt. I howled in pain, but soon those tormenting fingers returned to my throbbing clit, pushing me up the ladder again. The searing heat that had initially been processed as pain, was again, transformed into bliss.
“You’re going to come from me slapping your pussy alone.”
What? Hell no.
I shook my head, not having a shred of faith I could do such a thing. “No, I can’t.”
“You can. You will,” he amended sternly.
I opened my mouth to say something. Red? No? Stop? I didn’t know because before a word was spoken, two fingers spread the lips of my sex while his hand slapped vigorously. Tears poured out of my eyes as I howled in distress, my lips shaping the word that would stop my suffering. Then he slid fingers inside me, hammering my g-spot with surgical precision as his thumb stimulated my clit.
His agile fingers were causing a supernova of sizzling pleasure to well up inside me, every muscle in my body tensed in anticipation of the most powerful orgasm of my life.
And he stopped.
I begged him to finish, but I think it came out a tangle of gibberish. Ignoring my garbled demands, he returned to slapping my pussy, but instead of the anticipated pain, pleasure rolled through me like a surging tide. His fingers landed directly on my clit and, unbelievably, I knew if he slapped it again, I would go off like Chinese New Year.
And that was exactly what happened. He delivered one last hit and I was struck with a pleasure so profound, so intense that I nearly blacked out. I heard myself hoarsely screaming, pulling and twisting against the restraints, making me fully aware of why I was strapped in. Waves of ecstasy continued to pour through my body as I heard his zipper slide down behind me.
Warm hands stroked my face, wiping my tear-drenched cheeks. “You are so fucking beautiful right now. Out of control, uninhibited, lost in pleasure. Fuck, I could keep you like this for days, Willa,” he said in a fervent voice, then he vanished just as quickly as he appeared.
The head of his cock nudged my slippery opening, and I was stunned to feel shards of desire stir inside me, though it was possible that I hadn’t stopped orgasming and it was all one combined experience.
“Willa, I’m going to fuck you so fucking hard, you’re going to feel my dick inside you for days,” he snarled, lust making his voice gritty and low.
He proceeded to pound into me, his hips slapping against my sore ass while my mind drifted blissfully from one plateau to another.
“Fuck, Willa, Fuck,” he gasped, the slapping sound coming more quickly as his hands gripped my hips in a hold that probably would leave bruises, but I felt no pain. Another crashing wave of orgasm floated down on me. “What I wouldn’t give to fill you with my come right now. Watch it drip out of that sweet pussy. My sweet pussy. Goddamn,” he groaned, his hands tightening on my hips as he jerked against me, as if his own words, his own visualization, had caused his orgasm.
He fell over me, his lips softly kissing the sweaty skin of my shoulders and back of my neck. His chest heaved against my back for a moment, his body weight blanketing me, grounding me. As if suddenly aware he collapsed on top of me, he jerked himself up and slowly withdrew causing me to flinch. That area was going to be out of commission for a while.
He hastily released me from the restraints and lifted my limp body from the bench, holding me against his chest. There was a small loveseat against the wall, and he sank into it, grabbing a nearby blanket and wrapping it around me. He held me against him as he rubbed my arms and my back, and I slowly emerged from the hazy cocoon that I had somehow entered. From spanking. Well, and mind-blowing sex.
A bottle of water magically appeared in front of me and I was suddenly very aware of my parched throat. I grabbed it and thirstily gulped it down.
“Easy,” he chided, pulling the bottle down.
I took one more sip then handed it back to him, feeling suddenly awkward and bashful. No wonder considering the position he’d just seen me in.
I darted a quick look at him and found him staring at me with a smile on his face. He only shook his head and pulled me back down on his chest. “Relax, Willa. You don’t have to start thinking yet.”
I smiled at how quickly he figured out what was happening inside my head. “That obvious, huh?”
“Incredibly. You were even frowning a little. Are you feeling shy now that you know you like me to spank your ass before I fuck you hard?”
I gasped and gave him a swat on the arm as he threw his head back and laughed. “Do you have to say it like that?” I said, my cheeks reddening at his candor.
“Of course. I love watching you get shy and embarrassed about how much you enjoy me punishing and fucking you.”
I covered my face with my hands. “Oh my god. Really?”
He put his arm around my shoulders and, once again, pulled me into him, his chest still rumbling with amusement. “Definitely.” He leaned his mouth toward my neck, biting my earlobe softly. “Fuck, you were so hot.”
Red hot, considering the condition of my ass.
His hand slid down to rub my very sore behind, giving it an appreciative squeeze. “I can’t wait to do it again.”
My vagina agreed wholeheartedly but my ass had some reservations. “You might need to give me a while.”
His dark brows pinched, his green eyes glowing with concern. “What’s sore? Your pussy or your ass?”
“Do I have to choose?”
He snorted and rubbed his hand against my ass. “I’ll rub some lotion on this when we get back to my room. As for your sweet, little pussy—I did go at it a little hard at the end there. I could kiss it and make it better.” His green eyes sparkled with humor and heat at his suggestion, and, unbelievably, I felt a small zing of arousal.
“Very funny. Is this how you talk to all the girls you play with here?” I asked partially teasing, but partially fishing for information. I was suddenly very curious if he did this with every girl he slept with at the club.
He jerked his head back in surprise. “I don’t talk to any of them.”
Now I was jerking my head back, my eyes widening. “You don’t talk to them? At all?”
He shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Not really. We play around, but the…partners I typically choose are experienced. They didn’t need much from me afterward and if they did, they found it somewhere else.”
My jaw dropped. “You’d just leave them there all, like, zoned out?” On one hand, I was flattered by his clearly out of character attentiveness, but on the other hand, he kind of sounded like an asshole.
“If we were doing something that would leave them in that condition, they’d arrange to have someone else give them after care. I don’t typically enjoy that part of the scene. It’s too…”
“Intimate?”
He paused, looking suddenly ill at ease. “Yes.”
I eyed him curiously. What did it mean that he had provided that for me? Did I want my captor turned lover to be attached to me? To want to care for me? I hated that the answer that immediately rang in my head was yes yes yes .
“So, what was the deal with you and what’s her name?” I said, steering the conversation to more neutral territory.
“Cara? Nothing. We just, uh, you know, hooked up a few times and I guess she got it in her head, I don’t know, that something else was going on,” he finished his rambling, awkwardly worded response.
“Did you give her aftercare?” I had meant my question to come out sassy, but it veered sharply into bratty.
His eyebrows raised, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You jealous, baby?”
“What? Me? How can I be jealous? That’s crazy. I hardly even know you,” I protested. Way too much.
He smirked, but kindly let it go. “No, I never gave her aftercare. I have no idea what fantasies she had been spinning in her head, but she stepped way over the fucking line with that bullshit tonight.”
I bit my lip, feeling suddenly guilty that I’d gotten her fired, even though she was clearly crazy. “Did she need this job?”
“Hell no. She’s rich. Her dad is some big wig in exports? Shipping? Shit like that. He’s fucking loaded. He also has a whole fleet of tourist boats at the lakefront, I think.”
I stared up at him, jolting at his words. Boats at the lakefront. Why did that nag at me? There was some important piece of information sitting just out of reach.
Suddenly, memories flitted through my mind like little snapshots.
I gasped, sitting up straight and staring at Killian who stared back at me, concern and confusion stamped all over his face.
“What’s wrong, Willa? Are you hurt?” he asked as his hands skated down my body, searching for a possible injury.
“No, no, no, I just remembered something. Lily has a boat. Did you find it?”
He frowned, his expression hardening as his thoughts shifted to my treacherous sister. “A boat? I don’t remember Ian saying anything about a boat.”
We stared at each other for a tense moment, before he hastily lifted me off his lap and got up, haphazardly shooting my clothing to me as I scrambled to redress.
When I finished, he grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the stairs. “We have to talk to Ian.”
I nodded, praying I hadn’t just signed my sister’s death warrant.