“Bossy,” he grumbles.
His eyes glow radiant orange as he slides his hands from my legs to his. He moves painfully slow, snapping the button andteasing me with a peek of muscle. He runs a talon along the waist of his pants. I look up at him as the frustration builds to intolerable levels.
“I want you inside me,” I say.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. “Bad enough to beg for it?”
I cross my arms. “I think you want it bad enough to beg for it.”
The rest of his clothes disappear in a burst of embers. He nods to the condom in my hand.
“That isn’t begging, but I guess it’s close enough,” I say, then tear into the packet with my teeth.
I pull out the lubed-up latex and find the right way to roll it down. I lean forward and place it on the tip, then look up at him. He’s watching with stern intensity, his fists clenched at his sides, and I know I’ve gone and done it. I went full brat on him and earned myself some kind of delicious punishment.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Regretting it?”
“Yeah, right,” I say, squeezing my fingers over the edge of the condom.
I push, watching it roll over him slowly. Every vein, bump, and ridge that will push me over the edge feels like sin against my fingers. He sighs and smoke pours over us. It curls around my wrist and caresses my arm, like a living tendril of heat.
I go slow, relishing every part of him. When the condom is secure around his base, I look up at him again.
“Lie face down,” he says, his face a stoic mask.
I know I’ve already earned something that’ll sting, but I can’t help myself when I ask, “Or what?”
He chuffs, as if he didn’t believe I’d push him further.
He leans down, grabbing my chin as he rumbles, “Or I will fuck this pretty mouth until it’s too sore for backtalk.”
There’s something thrilling in the vision of him taking his pleasure from me like that. I can envision him thrusting all the way to the back of my throat, and the sweet ache in my jaw as I open for him as wide as I can. The stars that would dance in my eyes as I take tiny sips of air between his punishing thrusts. And when he comes down the back of my throat, I’ll swallow everything he gives me.
He thumbs my bottom lip. “You are so perfect, but you’re also a stubborn little firecracker that needs to feel my belt.”
The air leaves me in a gasp. “Your belt?”
He pauses, waiting for me to say no.
The idea of being spanked by something other than his hand feels naughtier, more dangerous, exhilarating. I want to know how it will hurt, and how that pain will bloom into the fire that makes me yearn for him. I’ve had a need to be filled by him for weeks now, and I’m sure he’s felt it too. But denying that satisfaction just a little longer, heightening that sense of anticipation, could make it all the better.
I roll over, tucking my arms beneath me so he can’t snatch them.
“Hands and knees,” he says.
I pull my legs under me and push my ass high into the air, staying on my elbows instead of coming all the way to a tabletop position.
The leather of the belt whines in his grip as he whispers a curse.
“You will tell me if it’s too much,” he says, and I know he wants me to reply.
“Yes, RhazDaddy.”
The leather is colder than his skin, making me gasp at its gentle touch against my right cheek. The folded edge of the belt smooths down my butt to my thigh and then disappears. I huff out my held breath as he touches my left cheek and makes the same long, downward stroke, like a painter with a canvas.
The first crack of the belt is soft, barely any sting to it. Just a testing smack. I don’t want him to be gentle with me, so I do what I know will get the response I want. I glance over my shoulder at him.
“Is that all?”
