And then… there’s a sharp slap against my ass, and my skin stings. It burns in the most delicious way, like he’s striking a match to set me aflame.
Wilder just freakingspankedme.
My pussy is throbbing and clenching already, and I can feel how much of a mess I am between my legs, but I don’t care.
I’m so turned on.
“Fucking hell, Maisie. I can see your tight little hole clenching, searching for something to fill it. So fucking hot, baby.” The words are choked out.
Oh God.
Oh God.
I drop my forehead down onto the desk beneath me, my fingers curling around the edges tightly while he spanks me, over and over, each strike of his hand causing my nipples to brush against the top of the desk.
They’re so sensitive right now that I feel like I could come this way, with only him spanking me.
The sound of his slaps echoes around the room.
It’s dirty, and hot, and wrong, but also so, so right.
Getting spanked by the coach while his players are just outside on the ice.
After a series of lashes, he pauses, breathing hard in short, shallow pants, and dips his head, laving my burning skin with his tongue, running his fingers gently over each globe until I’m nearly melting into the desk below. He nips at my skin, raking his teeth across it.
“About time I spanked this ass, don’t you think?” he says, grabbing handfuls of my ass and spreading me open, sucking in a breath as he admires the view. “That mouth likes to say shit that now your ass is having to take the punishment for.”
“Doesn’t feel very much like a punishment, Coach.”
He chuckles darkly behind me, and goose bumps explode on my skin. “Yeah, well, next time we’re not in my office and we’re at home, I’ll be sure to make it feel like one, baby.”
I suck my lip between my teeth. “Promises, promises.”
When he curves his massive body over me, the whistle around his neck jingles, clanking against my back, and I turn, glancing over my shoulder at him, a salacious thought suddenly sprinting through my mind.
“Will you…” I trail off, my confidence faltering slightly at actually having to say one of my fantasies out loud. “Will you put your whistle around… my neck?”
There’s a rumble coming out of Wilder’s chest, but he doesn’t say anything.
And I’m about to tell him never mind, that it’s stupid, but his large hand slips beneath me, and his fingers curl around my neck, lifting me up and off the desk.
His front molds against my back, his cock, heavy and hard, smashed against my ass.
I swallow as his fingers press tighter around my throat, and I swear I can feel my heartbeat in my clit, every unsteady woosh.
Yes, one of my fantasies is to be choked, and he knows that, but it’s not something we’ve done yet.
I want it. With that silly little whistle and his powerful body slamming into mine, using all of his big, bad coach authority to take advantage of me. Using my pussy and body for his enjoyment.
“You’ll have marks on your pretty skin if I do,” he grunts roughly, sweeping his fingers along my neck. “That what you want? Me to choke you, leave my marks on your neck the same way I did this perfect ass?”
Words fail me, my throat too tight with need, so I nod vehemently.
“Fuck me,” he rasps, the words barely above a whisper, like they’re more for himself than for me.
Then he’s moving.
A thread finally snapping inside of him.
