“You wouldn’t dare.” I wriggled so I could look him in the face, but he pinched my nipple and then rubbed my full breast. They were aching to be played with, and I cried out as he pushed me back onto the bed.
“Oh, I would, and that just earned you another spanking, bringing the total to two. Lay down and let me have fun, or I’ll add another for arguing.”
I wanted to argue so badly just to see if he would follow through on his threat, but I was distracted when I felt his warm tongue lick me from back to front.
God almighty, that feels amazing.
He flicked his tongue over my sensitive clit, and I let out a loud moan. Fuck it; if our friends heard me, I’d gladly let them learn how amazing Oliver made me feel. The things he did with that tongue should be illegal. He was phenomenal in bed, and everyone should know.
I wanted to grab his hair with my hands and force him to go harder and faster, but the restraints were making that impossible.
“Oliver, I want to touch you so bad,” I moaned.
“Just enjoy this.”
I closed my eyes and listened to him, homing in on every slight move and hum. It was pure bliss.
For me, sex had always been about physical release and stress relief. But with Oliver, our connection went past the surface, down to a cellular, spiritual level. He knew my body like no one else had ever known me. Sometimes, it seemed as though he knew my body better than I even did.
“I’m going to come,” I whispered, biting my lip.
“Not yet.”
“Oliver, please.”
“Not until I tell you to, or that will add another spanking.”
He slid a finger inside of me and hit the perfect spot. I was starting to sweat from trying not to orgasm.
“Ollie, I can’t hold it off. Please let me come.”
He pulled his finger out of me and straddled my body, pushing in fast.
“Oh fuck!” I screamed.
“God, you feel amazing. You’re so close aren’t you, baby?”
“So fucking close.”
“Good.” He brought his hand in between us both and pinched my clit. It sent me into orbit. “Be a good girl and come.”
I was falling over that cliff, regardless of if he said I could or not. Spankings be damned. The way that he thrust in and out, hitting every nerve ending my pussy had, was my undoing. That was it. Game over.
As I started to come down from the high, I felt his hands on mine, loosening the belt from my wrists.
“Are your wrists sore?” He rubbed them gently, examining them to make sure there were no marks.
“No, they’re fine,” I answered, doing a check of my arms, twisting them from sideto side.
“Good.” He smiled wickedly. “Get on your hands and knees.”
I flipped over and pulled my knees up under me and looked over my shoulder. Oliver was on his knees behind me, rubbing his hard length.
Up and down.
Up and down.
Up and down.
