He caressed the spot where he’d spanked me, and then, while I watched anxiously, slid his hand to the other side of my butt and caressed the globe, circling once, twice…and then smack! I shrieked again, rocked forward by the slap of his hand on the generous muscle of my ass. Immediately he soothed it, and then put both palms to my ass, circled, circled, and then gave me dual slaps, hard enough that I knew I’d be reddened, and then his soothing hands were gentle once more.
I tensed as he caressed my backside, expecting another smack, so when his index and middle fingers slid between my legs and into my drenched opening, I moaned in sudden pleasure. And that was when he smacked my ass. I shrieked as the contrast of pleasure and pain braided together and rifled through me, and the shriek turned to a gasp as he repeated the move, circling my clit with his fingers and slapping one cheek and then the other, alternating sides and then smoothing. While his right hand spanked and soothed my ass, driving me forward and drawing whimpers of protest from me, the fingers of his left hand were circling my clit in maddening circles, then diving into my channel and fucking me once, twice, three times, and then pulling out to circle once more. The pleasure and the pain were at odds, piercing me and sliding past each other, curling around each other, pleasure taking over when he pressed fingertips to my throbbing clit, replaced by the shock of sharp stings as his hand spanked and slapped.
I was confused by the sensations, unable to deny the pleasure yet unable to separate it from the stinging pain of being spanked. And yet the pain wasn’t sharp enough to make me ask him to stop. At first it was merely a surprise, and then it was disconcerting, and then it was irrevocably part of the intense pleasure shooting through me, and I couldn’t deny that I didn’t mind it.
Each swipe of his fingers, each slap of his hand on my now-sensitive ass made me shriek and gasp and moan, and my body began moving, rocking forward with the spankings, shoving back into his penetrating fingers. I felt a tremor deep inside me, a precursor, followed by another, stronger quake, and then his fingers were circling and I was whimpering and gasping, hips rolling uncontrollably, away from his smacks and into his touch on my clit, and I felt it rising, happening, impending, shaking me.
“Roth…oh, Jesus….” I said, feeling climax burgeoning within me. “I’m about to come so hard….”
“When?” he demanded, fingers circling me madly, palm smoothing my stinging flesh.
“Now! Ohfuckohfuckohfuck, Valentine!”
I came with a scream and a burst of adrenaline, shattering into a million pieces, and at that moment, as the scream tore from my throat, Roth impaled me with his cock, driving deep into my pussy in one quick thrust, rocking me forward and filling me to bursting. My scream cut off abruptly, my voice stolen by breathless ecstasy. My swelling climax ruptured, and all I could do was brace my hands on the bed and push back into him. My mouth dropped open in a silent scream as he palmed my ass cheeks with both hands, drawing nearly all the way out and then gliding deep in a smooth, hard stroke.
“Oh, my fucking god, Valentine….” I gasped.
“Yes?” He sounded casual, unruffled, thrusting into me again and again, driving my orgasm to heights I hadn’t thought possible, even after as hard as he’d made me come already.
“Just…describing you, is all,” I said, turning my head to glance at him over my shoulder.
His thrusts grew harder, and my tits bounced with his pounding, my ass absorbing the impact of his gliding hips with smacking sounds as loud as when he’d spanked me.
“I’m your fucking god, Kyrie?” He punctuated this with a single hard spank.
“Yes!” I cried out.
“You like being spanked, don’t you, Kyrie?”
“Yes, I like it.”
“You like it when I take you from behind, don’t you, Kyrie?” He smacked the other side.
“I love it, Valentine. I love it.”
“You want to come again?” I could only nod. “Tell me what you want me to do, Kyrie. Tell me how to make you scream again.”
“You know what I want. Give it to me.”
I dropped my head, letting it hang. I forced my eyes open and peered upside down along my torso. I caught a glimpse of his cock sliding out of my pussy, glistening and thick, and then watched it slam back in, watched his balls slap against my pussy, watched his thighs shift.
“Say it, Kyrie. I want to hear you say it. I go crazy when you say dirty things to me, baby. You make me wild when you tell me what you want from me.” He gripped my hips and jerked me back into his thrusts, and I gave him all I had, pushing back with him, rocking back into his relentless rhythm, taking his cock and loving every inch of it, loving this hard and frantic fucking he was giving me.
“Finger my ass, Valentine. Put your finger all the way inside me.”
“That’s what you want, is it, love? You want my finger deep in your tight little asshole?”
“Yes, please. Give it to me.”
“Anything you want, Kyrie,” Roth said.
He bent over me, kissed my spine, reached around my waist as he pulled his cock completely out of me, then dipped his fingers into my pussy. His fingers coated, he slipped his erection back into me and resumed a slow gliding rhythm, a lazy rhythm. He brought his hand around to my ass, parted my cheeks with one hand, and smeared our juices on my asshole, rubbing the tight knot of muscle with his fingertip. I forced myself to relax, leaning closer to the bed to spread myself apart for him. The pressure of his massaging finger increased, and then I felt myself pierced, and a helpless whining gasp left my throat.
“Yes, Valentine. Just like that.”
“Oh, no, darling. This is just the beginning.” He wiggled his finger, and I felt the world shake with shattering tremors. “Grab a pillow and brace yourself with one hand. Use the other to touch yourself. Touch your pussy, Kyrie.”
I reached forward and grabbed a pillow, shoved it under my chest and braced my forehead on my arm, slid my other hand between my legs, found my clit, and circled it. Immediately the earthquakes inside me intensified, shaking my belly and tightening my core, sending white-hot streaks of lightning through me. Roth stroked into me faster now, his cock slamming and sliding, one hand gripping my hip, the other slipping his long middle finger slowly and carefully into my asshole until I felt his knuckles brush me. My fingers swiped in fast, sloppy circles around my aching, swollen clit, my hips rocked back and forth, my breath came in short gasps and occasional moans.
Roth began to groan in tandem with his thrusts, pulling me by the hip with ever-increasing force until his hips met my ass with resounding slaps. I couldn’t move with him, not anymore, not with my fingers on my clit and his finger in my ass and his cock inside me, pounding into me. I was so full, feeling him inside me, behind me, above me, everywhere, erasing all the world except for him and me, everything except this nascent detonation building inside me and Roth’s voice joining mine with vulnerable moans.
Our voices merged, groans coming in perfect synchronicity as our bodies merged. I felt his cock thicken inside me, felt his rhythm stutter and grow desperate, slamming in, pulling back, hesitating at the crest of his withdrawal, and then we both moaned as he ground into me. His finger began to match the motion of our bodies, and I felt him lean over me, felt something hot and wet drip onto his finger and my ass, and then the slide of his digit in and out of me became slick and easy, and now he was fucking me in both my entrances, pounding into my ass and my pussy all at once and I was full and complete and exploding and shattering and all I knew was Roth, his name, his body, his presence.
“Yes…yes…yes…ohfuckyes!” I screamed, and then bit the pillow as my body clenched with the first wave of an orgasm so powerful it was painful. “Valentine! Oh, my god, Valentine, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”
“Never, Kyrie…never.” His voice was a ragged murmur, breathless, gasping, fraught with moans at each syllable. He pulled back, the thick mushroom head of his perfect cock poised at my entrance, waiting for a beat,
two, three…and then he crushed home with a primal bellow, and I felt him unleash within me. “I’m coming, Kyrie!” he shouted.
“Yes, Valentine, come inside me! Come hard for me, baby, let me have it all….”
A hot, wet spurt of his come splashed inside me, and he was grinding into me, his hips flush hard against my ass, his finger deep in my pulsing asshole, my every muscle and fiber and shred of consciousness contracting and expanding, my climax a soul-searing fire inside me. He shot into me again, and I clenched around him, squeezing his massive, driving, sliding, throbbing cock with everything I had. I was fucked breathless, barely able to even gasp at the raw potency of my orgasm, for the rapturous bliss of his cock and the feel of him coming inside me, filling me, knowing he was as torn apart by this as I was.
Another hard thrust, and he came a third time, and I couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t come any harder. But then I felt him pull out of my pussy and withdraw his finger, wipe his cock on me, smearing my asshole with our juices, and then he pressed his tip against me. He was softening but still hard, and I was somehow ready for this, wanting it, needing it. I took the tip of his cock, relaxed, and took a bit more. It burned and stretched, but he held still and let me adjust, and then began moving, just slightly. I was so tight around him that he was pinched nearly immobile, and I was unable to even scream, my fading climax surging to a sudden and gut-wrenching madness. I shuddered and rocked forward, shivering all over and trying to scream, but his cock was in my asshole and making me wild, making me ferociously and primally animalistic. Something like a snarl ripped from my throat as I came again, harder and harder, split apart by him and, impossibly, taking more and more of him, knowing I still only had the tip of him inside me and that I was being driven to insanity by that little bit.
He didn’t thrust, merely gyrated enough to provide pressure, and I felt his cock throb and heard him groan long and low in his chest.
My climax began to fade. “Out, out, take it out, please….” I gasped.
Roth complied immediately, and I slumped forward, wrung out and fucked utterly boneless. He moved to his back, slid an arm toward me, and gathered me up in a warm, implacably strong, cocoon-safe embrace. “Kyrie….” he whispered, “Dear god, Kyrie.”
“I’m dead.” I was limp in his arms, barely able to even form words, still shaking with aftershocks. “You killed me. You fucked me dead.”
“I didn’t—”
I spoke over him. “Shut up, Valentine. I meant that as a good thing. I know you care. I know my worth to you. You’ve proved it.” I forced my eyes open, forced myself to move so I could meet his eyes. “So now we can fuck. You can take me in your shower. In your car. Anywhere and everywhere.”
“Kyrie….” I saw some strange conflict warring in his sky-blue eyes.
“You wanted me, so you took me, Valentine Roth. You told me you owned me, and then you went and proved that you’re right. You own me.” I knew I was being reckless, blurting out the contents of my heart, speaking without any kind of filter. It was crazy and dangerous, but it was all I had. “Here’s what I want: feed me, bathe me, and then fuck me again until I can’t move.”
Long moments passed, Roth’s expression now shuttered. I knew him enough to realize he was thinking. Considering. Coming to some decision. He nodded. “I like that plan. I’ll add one thing to it, though.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I’m going to feed you, bathe you, fuck you until you can’t move, and then I’m going to hold you while we sleep. And then when we wake up, I’m going to fuck you again.”
My heart melted and swelled simultaneously. “Promise?”
He laughed. “Yes, Kyrie. I promise.” Roth rolled me onto my back, leaned over me, and kissed me. “Now, wait here.”
I watched his tight, round, muscular ass ripple as he slid out of bed and walked out of the room. God, he was gorgeous. Knowing how he could make me feel made him all the more sexy. When his tanned muscles and blond hair were out of sight, I finally let go.
I cried.
Confused, ecstatic, crazy tears of raw overwhelmed emotion. It was just a brief, stormy spat and then done, but it was what I needed to be able to process everything I felt.
I’d started this crazy affair frightened and guarded and expecting the worst. Yet what I’d discovered in Valentine Roth was something totally unexpected, something unusual and incredible. My emotions were haywire, made insane and intense and confused by what we’d just done together, how hard he’d made me come, how perfectly he’d followed through on his promises, fulfilling the expectations he’d set up with our hours of foreplay. Yet that couldn’t explain what I was feeling.
It wasn’t just sexual appreciation. There was that in spades, of course. Valentine Roth was a goddamned champion in bed, not just in terms of staying power or a ridiculously short refractory period, but in the way he paid attention to me, the way everything he did seemed laser-focused on making me feel as good as possible, taking his own pleasure in giving me what I needed. What had just happened between us in this bed was every woman’s erotic fantasy. He was totally dominant, powerful and confident, skilled and passionate and attentive.
All of that being true, how could I not become attached to him? And I was. I was totally getting attached. It wasn’t smart, but there it was, truth distilled. I was getting attached to Valentine Roth.
Yet it was more than that, and this was where fear began to take hold. It was who he was out of bed that scared me, because it was that man I was developing sudden and fearfully potent emotions for. He was all those things, too; every descriptor I’d used for Roth in bed was true of the man in everyday life as well.
And I was falling for him.
Turning The Tables
By the time Roth returned to the bedroom, some fifteen minutes later, I was calm once more.
I knew I had to hold on to how I felt. I didn’t think Roth was ready for that kind of thing yet, because although he was the one who’d sent for me, watched me, was the one in control, my instincts told me that true, deep emotions were unfathomable to him. He wanted me; he wanted to own me, to have me. He enjoyed me. Appreciated me. Yes, he used words like “baby,” “darling,” and “love,” but those were casual terms of endearment, not protestations of love or anything like that.
I pushed away those thoughts and sat up as he set a tray down on the bed. He was still naked, and I couldn’t take my eyes off his body, couldn’t look away from his cock, which was still impressive, even flaccid. I wanted to make him hard again just for the pleasure of watching and feeling him grow in my hands, but my stomach rumbled when the scent of our leftover dinner hit my nose, quashing even my ravenous desire for Roth’s body.
“I don’t remember you bringing this home,” I said, grabbing a fork from the tray and digging in.
Roth sat cross-legged on the other side of the tray from me, taking the other fork and shoveling a huge bite of chicken Parmesan into his mouth. “I didn’t,” he said after he’d chewed a few times. “I was so focused on getting us back here and getting you naked that I forgot it. That message I sent earlier was to Marco. I asked him to have our leftovers brought here.” He took another bite, and then poured wine into a glass. There was only one glass, though, and he filled it nearly to the brim. “Marco would kill me for mistreating the wine like this, but I don’t care. Wine etiquette is for when you’re in public.”
After a healthy gulp, he passed the glass to me. We were sharing a glass of wine. Something about that made me giddy. “Well, you already know I don’t give much of a shit about wine etiquette,” I said. “I mean, if I’m out with you, I’ll try to follow your lead so I don’t embarrass you, but I clearly wasn’t raised with the kind of manners you were.”
He shrugged. “Just be yourself, Kyrie. I don’t care if you know how to appreciate fine wines. That can be learned. The beauty of your soul, however, cannot be taught, and that is what I appreciate most about you.”
“God, Roth
. That’s so sweet. Thank you.” I gazed at him, letting some of what I felt for him flow through me and melt into my expression. “I feel the same about you. I mean, yeah, you’re the most handsome, sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my fucking life, but the more I learn about who you are, the more I appreciate you.”
Roth set his fork down very carefully, tilting his head to one side. His expression was inscrutable. “You…appreciate me?” He sounded stunned. “You don’t…resent me for claiming you the way I have?”
I shook my head. “Nope.” I endeavored to sound casual, so I paused to take a bite of lasagna, chewing and swallowing before I continued. “Look, I’m pretty in tune with my emotions, okay? When I figure out how I feel, I don’t waffle around about it. Once I know I like something, I’m all in. And I don’t fight feeling something just because it should be impossible or whatever. I know I should be insulted by the way you brought me here and told me you owned me, and I was at first. But…once I gave in to playing your game your way, I realized I liked it. Giving in, obeying your commands, is…freeing. It’s hot. I’ll never be a quiet, submissive little thing. Obeying doesn’t come naturally to me. It never has, and it never will. I’m strong, and I’m independent. But when you take charge and I let myself give in, I have fun.”
“Well. I’m glad for that.” He picked up his fork, but I could tell he was still deep in thought. “But that doesn’t explain you appreciating me.”
“No? Think about it, Roth. Think about me. Would I have gone this far with you, given in and obeyed and let you do all the things to me that you have if I didn’t trust you? If I didn’t enjoy it and enjoy you?”
He shook his head. “No. Of course not.”
“Then you get it.” A few more bites, a swallow of wine, and then I continued. “I like sex. I like it a lot. But I don’t do random, meaningless sex. I’ve been with a few guys, as I’m sure you know, but I’ve never felt a…connection…of some sort to any of them. I know that’s not a great thing to say, or to think about after what we just did together, but that’s exactly the point. All that? Everything that I’ve done before, all the guys I’ve been with before…none of them could even remotely compete with you. Not on any level. That” —I gestured at the bed— “was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It meant something. I don’t know what, exactly, but it did, and I know it, and I think you do, too.” But there was a lie in there. That I did know.