I blink at Jonas, my pleasure-drugged brain struggling to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. “What?” He lifts me off his cock and practically tosses me facedown on his lap. I bounce a little on the mattress, my sound of surprise morphing into a yelp when Jonas brings his hand down on my ass. It’s not a particularly harsh hit, but it stings like a motherfucker. “Wait!”
He pauses, one hand spread on my lower back, holding me in place. “Yes?”
Understanding dawns in the midst of my confusion. He’s waiting for me to tell him if I want this to stop or if I’m willing to keep playing. I inhale slowly. Earlier, I told him I don’t mind spanking, and I meant it. He just surprised me. I force myself to hesitate a beat to ensure that’s really how I feel, but there’s nothing but lust coursing through my veins. I turn my head so I can see him. “Please don’t punish me. I’m sorry.”
“You keep saying that word. I think we have differing definitions of the word ‘sorry.’”
I make a face. “You had a perfect opportunity for a Princess Bride quote and you butchered it.”
“Ah.” His lips shift as if he’s fighting down a smile. I don’t get a chance to relish that I almost just made him laugh despite himself because he brings his hand down across my ass again. And again. And again. They’re strikes meant to sting, to provoke a response, not to bruise.
That doesn’t stop me from struggling and whimpering with each contact. “Daddy, please!”
“You’re still being too loud.” This time, when he spanks me, he doesn’t immediately lift his hand. Jonas squeezes my smarting ass. The firm contact has me squirming in an entirely different way. It’s as if the spanking sensitized my skin to the point where I can feel every methodical squeeze in my clit. “Do I need to cover your mouth again?”
“Yes.”
He sighs. “You answered that too quickly.”
“Did I?” I can’t help lifting my hips a little, a clear invitation that he ignores. “Sorry.”
This time, he can’t hold in a chuckle. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Easy answer: fuck me senseless.” I’m not even playing a role right now. I’m just enjoying myself.
Jonas lifts me, moving me as easily as he would a doll, and arranges me on his lap, facing away from him. “Keep an eye on the door.” He doesn’t wait for a response. He just positions his cock at my entrance and then grips my hips, dragging me down his length. It’s quicker than last time, but my body has finally adjusted to him. Once he’s seated deep within me, he covers my mouth with one hand and guides me back to lean against his chest. The position arches my back, putting me on display for anyone who might walk into the room.
He skates his free hand down my stomach and presses his fingers to my clit. “Now be a good girl and ride your Daddy’s cock.”
The words set me in motion with a sound that almost like a sob. I can’t move a lot in this position, but I waste no time rolling my hips and fucking him as much as I’m able. Each stroke has my clit rubbing against his hand. I’m already primed from the fantasy, from the earlier sex and orgasms. It takes no time at all before I’m dancing on the edge of another one.
I slow down. I want this to last as long as possible, and that means I can’t come too soon.
Except Jonas tightens his grip on my face the slightest amount. “Playing games?”
“No.” The muffled word is still clear enough.
“I think you are. You don’t want to give me your orgasm?” He laughs roughly. “Fine. I’ll just take it.” He lifts his free hand and allows me to turn my head enough to watch him take two fingers into his mouth, wetting them. Then they’re back at my clit, slippery and sinful. I try to hold still, to fight the orgasm, but it doesn’t matter if I’m riding his cock because he’s so damn deep inside me and his fingers are so clever against my clit. He winds me tighter and tighter, and then it’s too late. I orgasm hard, sobbing into his palm and slumping back against his chest.
“Better,” he murmurs. “You fight me, but we both understand that I know what’s best.”
I might have some choice words about him thinking that waiting six years to do this is what’s best, but I don’t quite have control of my body right now to speak them. I’m too busy riding the aftermath of the pleasure he’s dealt me.
Jonas shifts my hair off my neck and presses an open-mouthed kiss to my nape. It makes me shiver and moan, so he does it again. “I’m going to fuck you now, baby girl.”
That wakes me from my pleasure daze. “What?” I grab his wrist and leverage his hand off my mouth. I barely remember to keep my voice down. “What the hell have we been doing this entire time?”
“Getting you ready.” The pure satisfaction in his voice sends a tremor through me.
Getting me ready.
So he can fuck me like he wants to without worrying that he’ll hurt me. Oh shit, why is that so hot? I drag in a rough breath. “Okay.” He lifts me off him and climbs to his knees. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where we’re headed. I hesitate. “If you take me from behind, you’re going to be even deeper.”
“Mmhmm.” He nudges my legs wide and presses a hand to the middle of my back, urging me down to press my cheek to the mattress. “You can take it.”
“I’m not so sure.”
Another of those dark chuckles. “You’re a hell of a boost for an old man’s ego, baby girl.”
“It’s not an ego boost if it’s true.” I tense as his cock breaches my entrance. “And you’re not old—holy fuck.” He shoves the rest of the way into me. Almost too big…but not quite.
A pillow lands by my head. “If you need to scream, do it into the pillow.”
“Arrogant ass.” But I do as he says and wrap my arms around the pillow in front of my face. Jonas doesn’t remind me to tell him if it’s too much, and I appreciate that he seems to be finally trusting me to communicate with him. Or maybe he’s simply too lost in this moment. He grips my hips and eases out of me almost all the way, an achingly slow retreat that almost lulls me into thinking that this will be like last time.
It’s not.
When just the head of his cock is inside me, he tightens his hold on my hips and hauls me back onto his length as he thrusts forward. The dull pain is back, adding spice to my pleasure, and I bury my face in the pillow. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down. Jonas just keeps fucking me hard enough that the rough sound of flesh meeting flesh fills the room; a perfect counterpart for my muffled moans, for the dull thud of the headboard.
“Everyone in this house is going to know what we’re doing.” He curses and grinds deep into me. “They’re going to know I’m balls deep in this perfect fucking pussy and I don’t give a shit about being caught.” Another series of rough strokes that have a deep and steady pressure building in my lower body. “It doesn’t matter. You feel too good to stop.” He pounds into me, hard and intense. Almost like he’s punishing me for making him want me.
I turn my head enough to say. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
His laugh contains barbed wire and razor blades. “You’re about to come all over my cock, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I moan. This orgasm is different from the others. It’s coming on too strong, too intensely. It’s almost scary, and I try to slow down.
Jonas is having none of it. He uses his hold on my hips to force me to keep up the pace. To drive me right over the edge and into oblivion. I bury my face in the pillow and scream, but he doesn’t stop. He just keeps fucking me until my body clenches and I squirt all over him.
He curses and loses his rhythm, bearing me down to the bed and fucking furiously into me as he chases his own orgasm. He wraps his arms around me, holding me close as he shoves deep and comes. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
I don’t have the energy to laugh. I don’t have the energy to do anything except lay here and let him wrap me up as pleasure keeps pulsing through my body. “No more.” I whimper. “I can’t take any more.”
“You’re done when I say you’re done.”
