THE SMELL of coffee rouses me.
I wake to Clay sitting across from me on the sofa in the corner of our room, wrapped in his suited armour, a cigar between his lips, a newspaper going unnoticed in his lap, his eyes on me.
I smile sweetly at him, happily a little daring due to the ache his lovemaking yesterday caused. It reminds me that I’m not just his but a bit of him is mine too. Something I missed these last few weeks.
‘You’re a creep,’ I taunt.
‘I’m not sure I can argue with that, sweet girl,’ he states, the intensity of his emotional state last evening seemingly a distant condition, replaced by that smooth, controlled detachment Clay Butcher is known for.
I don’t mind; I caught his sentimental butterfly.
I’ll keep it safe, Sir.
He inhales the cigar, his eyes unwavering from me, the ember at the tip flaring brightly.
I sit up and slide off the bed, wincing and shifting as I feel the memory of him between my thighs. Then I remember my kitten and beam. ‘Can I go play with my kitten, Sir?’
Instantly, he slides the paper to the side and taps his thigh. ‘After I have played with yours. Lay your sweet body over my lap,’ he says, talking around the cigar. ‘I’ll help you with the swelling.’
A hot flush spreads across my face as I notice the glass of ice sitting beside him, so I quickly do as I’m told, sweet memories of the last time he took me hard and then soothed me after guiding me quickly to him.
Grinning demurely, I say, ‘Can I at least shower first this time, Sir?’
‘No,’ he states straightaway, ‘you may not. You can shower after I’ve had my coffee, read the paper, and enjoyed you.’
I crawl over his lap. Settle my head and elbows on the pillow already positioned beside his thigh. Twisting to face him, I ask, ‘You’re going to read the paper while I lay on your lap?’
A cube of ice lands on my spine, and I shudder as it trails down before settling at the well of my arch. ‘Yes,’ he says smoothly, using his finger to slide the cube over the hump of my arse and down the crease of my backside so he can use it to circle my lips.
My pussy is puffy and tight, gradually thawing the cube in its heat. He continues his treatment of my aching core, and I bask in the lush sensation of his authoritarian touch.
He treats every slide of his fingers like his duty of care.
It. Is. Everything.
A simmering tingle. A caress that promises ecstasy but never actually builds enough to deliver the brunt of it. It’s perfectly teasing without discomfort.
I’m the spoilt one, Aurora.
So very spoilt.
The smell of his coffee and his cigar circles the room while his hand is reverent in its caring attention. I feel like butter and melting chocolate—all warm and swirly and gooey. ‘You’re not at work,’ I stupidly say.
‘You’re very observant.’
I chuckle at him. ‘If you want me to be more remarkable first thing in the morning, then you should probably allow me more than a few hours between—’
His hand connects with my arse in a hard slap. A gasp leaves me before it twists into a long moan, the shock turning that delicious sizzle of pleasure into a buck of sensation.
His big palm rubs the stinging flesh as he says, ‘I think you have forgotten, sweet girl, that you will let me fuck any of your pretty parts I desire. Whenever I desire. Now, what were you going to say?
My cheeks heat, probably glowing the same bright red as my backside—a matching stamp of arousal. ‘Nothing, Sir.’
‘Good girl.’ He pushes two cold fingers inside me, easing the swelling, flooding me with pleasure so lovely it curls my toes. ‘I like watching your toes curl.’ He scoops both long digits inside me, applying the thick pads to the back wall, stimulating me to flex my arse and groan. ‘Yes,’ he confirms huskily. ‘I’m taking the day off. We can have a long weekend. Have you ever been on an aeroplane?’
Barely focusing on his words, the sensation consuming my conscious mind, I try to reach for what he said. Plane? Like in the sky? God, my brain is useless when he’s doing that with his fingers… ‘No?’
‘Don’t answer a question with a question.’
‘No, Sir. I’ve never—’ I start to convulse with waves of arousal when he dips his thumb between the muscles rimming my rosette, while his cool fingers continue their reverent strokes on my puffy lips.
I take fistfuls of the pillow beneath my head and turn my face away from the sight of him with his cigar still smoking from his mouth and his heated eyes glued on my backside. Burying my whimpers within the soft material, I writhe on him.
‘Your pretty holes love being full. Did you know that? They suck me in with such demand. Such need. How am I supposed to separate my body from yours when every part of you is so very sweet to me. Hold still for me, little deer.’ Replacing his thumb now is a cool, hard object that pulls my muscles taut. ‘Good girl.’ I flex around it, and he groans. ‘I can only imagine what it feels like to be held in this tight hole… Relax. You remember my present? This is to stretch you, but it’s also to help train your muscles so you don’t flex too hard when I try to get inside you.’
I pant to the hot sensation of being full—so exquisitely stretched. Flexing around it decisively, I moan from deep in my throat. I flex again.
He guides me to a sitting position beside him on the sofa, my hands in my lap and my backside on my heels. The plug moves when I do.
Clay pulls the cigar from his mouth, the tiny remnants of it almost burning his lips. Reaching over my lap, he butts it out in the crystal tray on the table before leaning back casually.
Giving me his full attention now, his eyes roam my face, and he sighs, a smile sliding across his lips. And I’m butter. I fucking melt further into a puddle of his making. ‘This one is smaller than the last one. Not because I’m being generous but because I want you to wear it most of the day. Can you do that for me, sweet girl?’
Excitedly, I agree. ‘Yes, Sir.’
He reaches to the table, retrieving a container of wine-coloured pills and a glass of what looks like orange juice, offering them both to me. ‘Take these. Every morning.’
‘Is it candy?’ I shuffle my backside in the dip between my heels, closing my eyes for a moment to the sweet agony of the plug moving. I open them and catch his like a direct threat of something primal. I agree to it. ‘I’m here willing and eager for whatever you want. I don’t need candy, Sir.’
He clenches his jaw. ‘Mind your mouth, sweet girl. You may like it now, but I won’t always be so gentle with your spanking. Behave so I don’t feel the need or desire to show you what pain, pleasure, and discomfort can do when they peak at the same time.’
Fucking hell.
Excitement, anticipation, and fear shock my heart into a frantic tattoo, widening my eyes.
Should I start to piss him off now?
Or later?
His easy blue gaze cuts to the container in my hand, then back to my face. ‘The pills are vitamins, sweet girl. Let me see you take one now.”
Okay, later.
I grin at him, a cheeky slant to my lips. ‘Yes, Sir.’ I slip a pill through my smile, chasing it with a sip of juice. My tastebuds buzz around bursts of citrus as I swallow.
‘Now.’ He leans back and drapes his thick arms over the back of the sofa, looking powerful even in that casual position. “I’m inside you right now. In your little arse. Remember that because I won’t be able to play with you today. You will see me around the house, but I need to—’
“So what? You want me to just pretend—’
“Don’t interrupt me,” he reprimands. “Yes. I want you to keep yourself busy. Leave me to work. You are a distraction. Be my good girl and look after your kitten. Do some online shopping. Get a suitcase. We will be going on a trip in a few days.”
A trip?
“Like, what kind of trip?”
“The kind I will explain when I have all the details.” He shuffles to the edge of the sofa, nodding to the spot between his spread thighs. “Stand and let me get a good look at you before I go.”
Tiny amounts of warmth creep up my neck as I stand and turn to face away from him, hit with the caress of his gaze on my backside and the little item inside me. Large palms trail the outer swell of my thighs, awakening the tiny blonde hairs on my skin to rise.
“Simply stunning.”
One of his hands slides forward and cups my pussy, and my head drops backward on a moan. I press into his palm. His lips touch my backside, dragging along the plump curve, nipping, and sucking the skin.
I rock into his palm as he enjoys the taste of my flesh, all but eating me with small nibbles that shock my nerves and the drag of his tongue that curls my toes.
Then his mouth is gone, and he rises. His suited body slides up my back, his hands touching me everywhere as they climb with him. They end at my neck, gripping the column, forcing me to crane my throat to accept his lips as he towers above me. He nips me before breaking off from my mouth. “Now you may shower, sweet girl.”
