His hand bypassed my pussy, sliding down my inner thigh, teasing the skin there before moving back up, taking his time, drawing out the anticipation until I was bucking beneath him, desperately.
“How should I punish you?” he muttered, releasing a breast with a wet pop. He looked at me, his eyes burning as he rubbed my folds. “Does she need to be spanked?”
I didn’t hesitate, my response fell from my lips in a desperate gasp. “Yes.”
The first pat came fast, as his palm connected with the swollen flesh of my pussy. I cried out, as the sting instantly bloomed into throbbing pleasure. He didn’t stop, establishing a rhythm, moving from gentle pats to firmer slaps to slow soothing rubs of his palm over my vulva, pressing down just enough to make me grind against him.
He kept his mouth on one breast, one hand playing with the other, his free hand patting my center. The pleasure was coiling tight in my belly, building with every tap.
“You wanna come?” he growled, his fingers dipping inside me briefly, before landing another pat directly on my clit.
I screamed, my vision blurring. “Yes... yes!” My climax rose like a tide. I felt my muscles start to flutter, the tension snapping tight.
“Julian, I’m gonna... I’m gonna...”
Then he stopped.
“Nooo!” I cried out.
“Who runs this?” he asked.
I glared up at him through the sweat in my eyes and dug up the last of my nerve. “Me.”
His mouth twitched. “Wrong.”
He built me back up again, slow and merciless, and every time my hips chased it, the silk pulled tight and reminded me I had nowhere to go. He’d take me right to the edge, then take it all away again. The sounds I made were not dignified.
“Who runs this?” he asked again.
Rihanna had come on at some point,Yeah, I Said It,and I pulled the nerve of it right up out of the speakers and into my throat.
“I do,” I replied, and some reckless part of me meant it, because this was a game I knew how to win. I’d made this man forget how to talk before. I had moves.
Somewhere in the third or fourth climb I started to understand I’d miscalculated. Because I had nothing. I was flat on my back with my wrists tied up and every move I had was one he could simply wait out.
“Who runs this, Lyss?” he asked again.
“Easy to run it when you got me tied up,” I gasped out. “Even the playing field.”
“That’s what you think?” He gave me a doubtful look, accepting my challenge as he untied me. He brought my arms down and pressed his mouth to the inside of each wrist where the silk had marked me, rubbing the feeling back with his thumbs. Then got up from the bed and walked across the room.
“You running from me?” I called out, leaning back on my elbows and letting my legs fall open. I was feeling myself, confident that the view of me, wet and still ready for him, would be enough to drag him back.
He didn’t even look back at me as he walked over to the console table by his window and grabbed two bottles, twisted the caps off, and came back. The look on his face wasn’t desperate or lust-filled. It was calm and controlled.
He handed me a bottle. “Drink that.”
I took it, frowning. “I’m not thirsty. I want?—”
“Drink.” He tipped his own bottle back and guzzled the entire thing down, his throat working as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as a distraction.Damn.
I sighed and took a few small, defiant sips. I held the bottle out to him. “There. Happy?”
He took the bottle, his eyes locking onto mine. “Drink more. You’re going to need the hydration.”
His tone made me shiver and I lifted the bottle again and drank it down to half and I handed it back to him.
He set the bottle on the nightstand and turned back to me. Standing at the edge of the bed, he reached out and grabbed my ankles. I let out a shriek that turned into a laugh as he yanked me down the mattress until my ass was right at the edge of the bed and my legs were in the air, completely open to him.
