His words play on a loop.
“Who said anything about spanking, little fawn?”
But if he doesn’t mean he’s going to spank me, what kind of punishment could he possibly have in store for me?
The longer I contemplate what he could possibly mean, the wider his smile seems to grow. He’s amused by my confusion, and why is that so damn hot? I should be irritated by how cryptic he’s being, but for some reason, my bare pussy is weeping for him, just like it always is when he’s nearby.
“I want your feet resting on my knees, Clara. Now.” There’s no room for argument in his tone, no opportunity to ask the questions that burn on the tip of my tongue, so naturally, I do exactly as I’m told. Because I know that’s one of my rules and not one I intend to break right now when there’s already punishment on the table.
I look down at my shoes, ready to slip them off to comply, but he makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat that stops me in my tracks. Does he mean he wants the heels to stay on? Because that’s going to be hella uncomfortable for everyone involved. But I don’t question him, lifting my feet from the ground and carefully slipping them onto his lap, keeping my knees pressed together.
This is too intimate. But then again, it’s starting to feel like Tommy likes me uncomfortable and off-kilter, like me knowing what’s coming next is too easy and keeping me guessing makes his cock hard.
The thought makes my eyes move down his body to his hardening bulge that he’s doing nothing to try to hide.
“Spread your legs, Clara. Let me see my pussy,” he rumbles and butterflies erupt in my belly.
Holy hell. That shouldn’t sound so fucking good coming out of his mouth. It shouldn’t make my core ache for a release I hope he’s going to offer me.
I take a deep breath and slowly do as he’s asked, flicking my gaze to the door as I do. If someone walks in right now, I’m going to die of embarrassment. It won’t matter if my father finds me because I would have already died of complete and utter humiliation.
“I promised I wouldn’t let anyone see you, fawn. Have a little faith in me.”
His words cut through my anxiety and I snap my eyes back to his right before they drag down my body until they meet the apex of my thighs. A strangled growl claws up his throat, a sound so savage it seems barely human, but I don’t flinch. Not because it doesn’t frighten me, but because I crave the dark side of Tommy. I need it.
His hands move up my thighs, prying them farther apart until I have no doubt he can see everything. I’m quietly thankful I picked this dress this morning, a simple black long-sleeved dress that cinches in at the waist and then drops into a loose skirt to the knee. It’s one of my favorites because it’s so comfortable, but it may have just got a new reason to be the first dress I reach for.
“Your pussy is so fucking perfect, fawn.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I can’t tell if someone’s turned on the heating or if his words are what’s making it impossible to drag in a breath.
“Close your eyes and don’t open them until I say.”
I’m not conscious of the decision to obey him, but then again, am I ever?
My eyes drift closed, adding an extra element of heat to my body. The idea of not being able to see him coming, of not being able to assess his every move as he makes it, has a toxic cocktail of dread and arousal settling in my core. God, I never thought I’d be turned on by fear, but here we are.
“Good girl,” he praises, his fingers brushing up the inside of my thighs in a gentle path before drawing back in the same pattern.
He teases me for long moments, each time growing closer to where I need him, and he’s more than aware of the effect he’s having on me. How could he not with the shameless moans that fall from my mouth without permission?
“You’re so wet for me, fawn. Do you need something?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Fuck, yes.”
He hasn’t even touched my pussy and I’m panting. I hate to think of what I’m going to ask for when he finally brushes his fingers through my folds.
A deep chuckle fills my ears, and both hands disappear from my thighs. I’m about to whine and beg for them back when something foreign probes my soft folds, causing me to startle.
“Keep your eyes closed,” Tommy reminds me before I can even think to open them.
The object is soft and smooth, and it takes me too long to realize it’s some kind of sex toy.
Wait. Where the hell was he keeping a sex toy when he picked me up from work, helped me pack up my things and held my hand as we walked here?
“I can see the pieces falling together in your head.” The smile in his voice is obvious, and if I weren’t so fucking turned on, mine would match his, I’m sure of it.
The toy moves up and down my folds, dragging through my wetness as it moves between my entrance and the sensitive bundle of nerves. I don’t know what I need, but I know I need something, and if he doesn’t give it to me soon, I’m probably going to spontaneously combust.
How exactly did I go years without sex, but now that Tommy’s waltzed into my life, I can’t go more than twelve hours?
He holds it at my entrance, and it takes every bit of willpower I can muster to not push my hips forward just to get some relief. Any. Fucking. Relief.
“So needy, little fawn,” Tommy murmurs. “Does my dirty girl need something to fill her pussy?”
I groan at his words, so filthy, but they only make my core clench around nothing. “Yes, please.”
“You are asking so nicely,” he muses and presses the toy inside me before pulling it all the way out.
Without the advantage of sight, I’ve worked out it’s one of those toys that sits inside you with a piece that rests over the clit, and although I’m incredibly turned on, I’m also fucking terrified for whatever he has in store for me.
“You’re trembling, Clara.”
“Please, Tommy. I can’t.” Tears of frustration gather at the corners of my eyes, and my breathing becomes more labored with each pass of the toy.
He presses it deep, settling it inside me until the base sits flush with my body. It’s not enough to fill me, not by a long shot, but knowing that it can bring me some kind of relief is enough to have me sighing in contentment.
“Tell me your rules in the bedroom.”
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can respond, the toy flares to life. Vibrations make their way through my body, and I cry out at the sudden sensations that overwhelm me. Holy shit. I should have been prepared, but I wasn’t.
“Don’t make me ask again, Clara.”
The speed moves up, and I’m all but panting as I try to filter through my mind for an answer. What the hell were my rules again?
“Do as you say when you say,” I hiss out a breath.
“And?”
“If something hurts, I have to say ‘red.’”
“And what else, fawn?”
Something akin to dread washes over me as I realize what the last rule is, the one I was most concerned about from the moment it slipped from his lips.
“Don’t come until I’m told,” I whisper as if it will make it less true.
“That’s the one I was looking for.”
“Tommy, god,” I moan.
How am I this close to the edge already? He’s barely touched me and I’m walking on a tightrope with nothing to catch me if I fall.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, dirty girl. You’re going to sit through dinner with the toy in your cunt, and you are not going to come unless I tell you to. Understand?”
My eyes fly open and meet his amused smirk. “You cannot be serious.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” he deadpans.
He’s not of course. He’s dead fucking serious and even as my pussy pulses around the toy, the vibrations bringing me closer and closer to the release I’m craving but I’m not allowed to have, I’m excited by the prospect of him being in control.
Tommy carefully places my legs down on the ground, his touch so gentle I can barely reconcile the brutal man I’ve come to know and the soft one he only shows me, and I find myself wondering, will I survive loving Tommy Hart?
