Honest answer? I don’t know anymore. I don’t know at all.
I test how secure it is, which is pretty darn secure. “Remember all you have to do is say stop and I will. You understand?”
She nods, but her expression is unsure. “That doesn’t tell me what you’re doing.”
I consider explaining but have no idea what I’d say. This is instinct I’m going on right now. “Do you want me to stop?”
Her eyes widen, but her mouth clams shut.
“That’s what I thought.”
Tucking my fingers around the waistband of her shorts, I pull them down along with her panties then toss them on the bed behind me. Then I stand back to survey her because, goddamn, if I’ve ever seen anything this hot, I don’t remember it. Her hands tied, her breasts pushing forward against her tank top, her long limbs hiding the sweet treasure of her pussy.
I nudge her legs apart, and let me tell you, Genny has a treasure of a pussy. One of the prettiest I’ve ever seen, and yes, there are pussies that are prettier than others. Trust me. I can’t explain what makes one nice to look at and another not, but I’m telling you—hers is a wonder. Her dark hair is trimmed into a landing strip, contrasting nicely with the pale white skin of her inner thighs. And her hole is tight and inviting. Like it’s begging to be plundered with my fingers. Or my cock. I’m even having fantasies about sticking a dildo in her, and it’s not usually my thing to put other objects in places my body yearns to be instead.
Genny though—nothing is usual about how I’m obsessed with her. All I want is to watch her writhe. Want to see her come apart at the seams. Want to know I’m the one making her feel that way.
From her shallow, anxious breaths, I’d say she wants the same thing.
Eyes fixed on the prize, I kneel down and start to feast.
She tastes incredible. I’ve tasted her before, but each time I do, it’s better than the last. Like I forget just how good her scent is, how good her flavor is on my tongue, because how good can pussy actually be? It can’t possibly be as amazing as I remember.
And yet it is. She is. She’s amazing and delicious, and even though I endeavor to bring all my women to orgasm, I’ve never wanted to pleasure one as completely as I want to pleasure her.
With my hands hooked under her thighs, I spread her wider, licking up and down her folds in long strokes, teasing her before I zero in on where she wants me. She moans. She squirms. I do it again—long sweeps up and down, then I stiffen my tongue and lap at her bundle of nerves. I suck her clit until it’s so swollen that it throbs in my mouth.
She comes long and hard. Twice. By the time I’m working her up to her third, she’s shaking and writhing and I’m drowning in her wetness but I won’t stop until she’s thoroughly spent, until she can’t even think straight.
“It’s too much,” she pants. “Chandler, I can’t. I can’t.”
She tries to wriggle off of the chair, but my impromptu binding seems to be holding pretty well.
I replace my tongue with a finger so I can respond. “You’ll take as much as I want to give you. Now shush up and take it, or I’ll have to give you even more.”
She shakes her head. “No. No more. No more. Please.”
But she hasn’t said stop. I know I don’t have to remind her that it’s the word she needs to speak to end this—I’m certain she remembers. I’m also certain she won’t use it. I’m giving her too much, but it’s exactly what she wants.
And it’s exactly what I want.
In fact, I think we both want more. “Stop struggling. Or I’ll….” I trail away, not sure how to finish my statement. “Or there will be consequences.” No idea what consequences, but it feels good to say and I’m determined to see my threat through.
I return my lips to her soaked pussy and suck her clit into my mouth one more time.
“Will I be punished?” she asks, her thighs quivering. That’s the last thing she manages to say before the very word sends her into an orgasmic tailspin.
I’m minutes from my own release, and I haven’t even touched my dick yet. That’s how hard I am. Hard and desperate, so even though I’d love to see if she could take another round, I’m sure that I can’t.
She’s still gasping and shivering when I right her chair. I reach behind her and undo the makeshift cuffs. Then I step back and give her room.
“Stand up and turn around,” I order. It’s the kind of order I’m not used to issuing, and yet it sounds good in my voice. It feels good in my bones.
Especially when she obeys, which she does almost immediately. I love how her legs are jelly as she moves to follow my command. She can barely stand on her own, so I tell her to brace her hands on the desk.
Well, and because I just like the look of her bent over like this, her skin glistening with sweat, her curvy ass displayed prominently.
I want to bite that ass. I want to spank it. I want to mark it as mine.
Almost absentmindedly, I fold the belt in half, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m swatting it down on her behind. The leather thwacks against her skin and she gasps, and instantly I decide there has never been a more erotic combination of sounds in all of history.
I have to hear it again.
I repeat the motion on her other cheek, and now there are two red belt marks along her skin. I rub my fingers lightly over her burning flesh.
Fuck. It’s so hot. It’s so kinky. I’m so hard. So…
Wait.
“Genny?” I ask tentatively, all of a sudden concerned I’m the only one into this.