“Suck,” he said, curving his finger around, teasing her tongue. It was too, too sensual. She felt like she was about to climax and he’d barely touched her. Slowly, she began to do as he’d said, applying gentle pressure to the finger, tasting him and rolling her tongue over his nail.
His smile was tight. “Good.” He lifted the champagne and poured some into her mouth while his finger remained. She swallowed and he nodded. “Good,” he repeated.
His other hand pulled her underpants aside, and before she could guess his intention, he brought his finger from her mouth and inserted it into her moist womanhood. She clenched around him and bucked instantly. The unexpected invasion sent fire and lava spiraling through her.
She swore under her breath and tried to free her hands but every time she pulled they seemed to tighten. His eyes bore into hers as he swirled his finger as he had in her mouth; though this time he was teasing her most sensitive, private flesh and he was making her whole body shake with so much pleasure it was almost painful.
“I’m going to take you soon,” he said, driving another finger into her core. She pressed her hips down, wanting more of him than he was offering. “But first I want to know what you like.” He stroked her gently, watching as minute expressions of pleasure danced across her face. She was moaning again and again, almost incoherent with pleasure. He brought his other hand to the sensitive flesh above her opening and began to stroke it in unison with his touch.
“Please, please, please,” she whispered, and he thought how good it would be to tell her father that she’d begged him to take her. That she’d been putty in his arms, naked on his terrace not caring who saw her. Though admittedly, it was a private deck and only someone with a serious zoom lens would be able to make out any detail, but Augustine didn’t know that. Only that his little girl had screamed with desire for a stranger intent on revenge.
“Soon,” he promised. He pulled away from her with regret. “I want to take you from behind,” he said, knowing he didn’t want to see her face when they made love. He couldn’t look into those eyes he hated so much while his body enjoyed her offering. “I want to be so deep inside; I want to bury myself where you’ve never been touched.”
His hands were demanding as they pushed her towards the wall and braced her against it. With her wrists bound behind her back, it was her head that was supporting her. He undid his pants, pausing only to sheath himself in a condom, and then he entered her hard and fast.
She cried out with pleasure; her voice was a bell tolling in the night. He saw her hands gripping as wave after wave of desire flushed her system.
His hands reached up to cup her breasts, pulling her from the wall, he held her against him as he drove into her again and again. Her body was perfect; soft and womanlyyet spare and petite. She was perfect.
So much for not enjoying the sex he thought, as his own control began to wane.
But he wouldn’t let it. He wanted this to last all night; he wanted her to wake up with no thought other than him, his body. He wanted her to be his sex slave; to know that she would never be complete without him again.
He wanted her to promise him anything for the chance to be with him just one more time.
He squeezed her nipples as he thrust into her, and when he felt her begin to tighten around his length he kissed her neck, flicking her sensitive flesh with his tongue, biting her gently with his teeth, and all the while he plundered her and tortured her breasts.
She was not quiet.
He felt her climax, but he heard her too, as she cried out into the cool Autumnal night. Her body shook with the force of sensations and he held her tight.
The relief was extreme.
He had done it.
He had made that bastard’s daughter his.
Slowly, he dropped his hands, cupping her rear. He felt her sigh and she leaned forward, propping herself against the side of the house. The view from where he stood was exquisite. He ran his fingers, down her spine, enjoying the goose bumps that sprung in his wake.
He had only ever tied the hands of women he’d known well; women he’d trusted and who had trusted him. This had gone beyond that, though. He liked having her as his prisoner.
It had sparked something carnal and base in him.
He pulled away from her and she made a noise of complaint.
“I’m not finished,cara,” he assured her. “Now I want to watch you.”
It was only when she turned around that she realised he was still fully dressed. But for the lowered zip, he had not bothered to take his clothes off.
He lay himself on the ground, his erection enormous.
“Come to me,” he invited.
She nodded, already desperate to feel him back inside of her. She straddled him, bringing herself over him somewhat awkwardly.
“My hands,” she said, as she took his length back inside and moaned at the feeling of completion.
“Are unnecessary,” he assured her.
