Wanted

He slid his finger out of my mouth, and I took that as permission to speak. “You do,” I whispered.

“It’s going to be rough, baby, but I promise it will feel good. But I can’t have you any other way. Not after wanting you for so damn long. And not now that I know you’re going away. I need to know that you’ve surrendered to me.”

“I have. I will.” Hell, right then I’d do or say anything just to feel him moving inside me some more.

He didn’t, though. Instead, he slid out of me, and I actually whimpered with disappointment.

He laughed, then held out his hands for me, helping me up until I was kneeling on the bed in front of him. “I want to know that until the day you leave this city, I have claimed you for my own. Now tell me that you want it, too.”

“I do,” I said. “I want it.”

He slid off the bed and stood facing me. Then he made a circular motion with his finger. “Turn around. Bend over. Palms flat on the bed.”

I opened my mouth to ask why, realized that was an idiotic question, and complied. I heard his low intake of breath, then his soft, “Oh, baby.” And then I felt the sharp sting of his palm against my rear, followed by the pressure of his palm rubbing away the prickles of heat that had bloomed from the contact. “Say it like you mean it,” he said, and now there was nothing soft about his voice.

“I want it,” I repeated, then squeezed my eyes closed as another spank caught me across the ass. His blows were hard, and though they stung—though I’d even go so far as to say they hurt—I understood what he meant about the pleasure. My breasts felt heavy, my nipples tight, my sex tingling and wet. I wanted more—hell, I wanted everything.

He rubbed my ass in firm, slow circles as he leaned in close. “What do you want, Lina? Do you want me to stop? Or do you want me to keep going?”

“Keep going,” I said, close to whimpering just from the thought that he might stop. “Please, do it.”

He answered with another sharp smack. “Tell me again what it is you want?”

“I want you to spank me.” I want you to fuck me.

“Tell me what you want.” Another spank. I flinched, spreading my legs just a little. My ass was on fire, and oh, dear god, so was the rest of me. I wanted him inside me, and I was very quickly reaching the point where begging would be involved. “Tell me,” he repeated, his words followed by another spank.

“You. I want you, Evan. I’ve always wanted you.” I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid I’d revealed too much. But Evan just moaned in satisfaction, as if my words had been as sweet to him now as my mouth on his cock had been earlier.

“I have to have you now, Lina. I can’t last another second of not being inside you.”

I tried to say yes, but it wasn’t necessary. I tried to turn over, but he wouldn’t let me. His hands were on my hips, and he tugged me back so that my knees were closer to the edge of the bed. I felt his cock rub against me, sliding against my desire-slick sex. I spread my legs in silent need, arching up in both invitation and demand. In another moment I would have found my voice and begged, but I didn’t have to, because he used his grip on my hips to pull me toward him even as he thrust forward.

He entered me in one long, deep stroke, and I cried out from the combination of pleasure and pain. He was ripping me apart with every thrust, shattering me, breaking me. He was utterly destroying me, and yet nothing had ever felt so perfect as the sensation of this man inside me. With each thrust he took me higher. With each soft moan he brought us closer.

J. Kenner's books