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“This make you hot, princess?” he asks after a while, making big circles with his hand over the area he’s been spanking.
“So much.”
One finger drifts between my legs and slides into me.
“I guess it does.” He presses the finger deeper and I whimper, clamping around it.
“I think you’ve been punished enough.” He slowly gets me on my feet and positions me so my back is to him.
“Straddle my thighs,” he says.
I wiggle into position since my skirt is still bunched up around my hips.
“Use your hand and put him inside you,” he directs gruffly.
I fumble to grip his shaft and position it where it needs to be.
“Now sink down,” he whispers, biting my earlobe. One arm is around my waist and the other is at my hip. Holding me in place. Guiding me exactly where I have to be. As I sink down, his girth forces me wide open, and we both moan. With him, it’s always too much and not enough at the same time, and it’s fucking amazing.
“That’s a good girl.” His words are warm but edgy, making me clench with need.
“Oh, fuck.” I gasp when he bottoms out.
I’m so full.
It feels different in this position, with me on his lap—reverse cowgirl.
“Look up, princess.”
Slowly, I lift my eyes and realize we’re positioned on the edge of the bed that faces his dresser—and mirror.
The picture in front of me is magical.
His dark head next to mine.
His broad shoulders dwarfing me.
The bottom couple of inches of his cock sticking out from beneath my core.
“So fucking hot,” he breathes. With one hand, he moves to my blouse and begins unbuttoning it. As the sides slowly move apart, revealing my bra, he reaches in to lift one breast out of the cup. It sits on top of my underwire, and he takes a moment to toy with my nipple before doing the same thing on the other side.
My breath is coming hot and fast, my body quivering with need.
“Please,” I whisper.
“Don’t rush me, princess. This is fucking everything.”
And it is.
I don’t know what he sees, but what I see is undoubtedly something else.
With Elliott, I look small. Delicate. Petite almost.
Those are words that have never, ever been used to describe me.
Seeing it in the mirror is better than any porn or anything I could have come up with in my imagination.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, running his thumbs back and forth over my nipples. “How do you feel about nipple clamps?”