That’s all the warning I get before he thrusts in.
I think we both gasp.
My arousal crests so fast I almost orgasm right then.
“So fucking tight when you’ve come hard,” he murmurs, working his way in farther, until his hips press against my ass. “I can’t resist taking you when you offer your pussy so willingly.”
Willingly?
The bastardmade me choose.
He draws back agonizingly slowly, and all thoughts disappear save for the feel of him, the extreme sensitivity of my labia, bordering on pain, and the feel of him penetrating me, hard and strong.
Then he drives in again.
I can’t help but cry out. My arousal had faded enough to draw back from the edge of release, but it surges forward, cresting fast.
His damn flogger has made my whole body alive to every sensation. My body shifts on the suede top, my breasts rubbing just enough to remind me that they’re sensitive, too.
Yet pleasure quickly surpasses it all, while the tingle of my skin sharpens everything.
But my focus is on him. He pulls back, like he has all the time in the world. It builds anticipation of the next thrust, and I have enough time for a whimper to slip out. It’s like Iwanthim to fuck me, my body soaroused that it’s craving him. I need the release that he’s flirting with, but he’s taking so damn long that it’s drifting farther away, not coming closer.
What has he done to me?
Drugged me. Kidnapped me. Tied me up.Torturedme, in the most sadistic way imaginable.
Delicious way imaginable.
No. I didnotagree to this.
But consent has never been Declan’s forte.
He drives into me for the next stroke, my body parting eagerly for him, welcoming him in. Another cry slips out. I can’t help it. He’s so deep, so hard. And I’m so helpless, unable to even move.
The bastard starts drawing back again, so damn slow it’s excruciating. My pussy clenches around him, not wanting him to leave, and that’s involuntary too.
I’m forced to admire his restraint, but control alwayshasbeen Declan’s forte. At least, in the bedroom. Or the basement, I suppose. I want to push my ass to him, encouraging him to go faster, but I can’t. And he’s doing it deliberately, I know he is. Drawing it out, teasing me. It’s just another form of torture, and I hate him for that.
He pushes in again, his hips slapping into my ass, the sound echoing off the bare walls. That distinctive noise and my cries. Part of me wonders where we are, and if the room’s soundproofed.
I sob as he pulls back, his cock the perfect angle to rub against my g-spot. And fuck if that isn’t sensitive too, courtesy of his damn egg.
He keeps this up for I don’t know how long.Stroke after stroke. I can never tell when he’s going to thrust; there’s no warning. Each time, my arousal peaks, then subsides, never quite getting close enough. There’s long enough between strokes for several breaths. The bastard is edging me with hiscock.
Whodoesthat?
After a while, I can’t bear it any longer. “Just fuck me already, you asshole.”
Shit.I didn’t mean to say that.
He gives his aggravating chuckle. “Is my little hellcat impatient?”
No, you bastard, you’re a sadist.
“You feel so good,” he murmurs. “So fucking wet, so perfectly tight. I don’t want to rush this.”
Rushthis? I don’t know how long it’s been since I woke in this damn room, but he’s been playing with me since that moment. He’s had me tied to this horse for what feels like ages. It might only be ten minutes, but it feels ten times as long. I genuinely have no idea.
