“Faith,” he breathes out, and I don’t know why, but it feels like a question. Am I ready? Am I okay? Am I sure?
“Yes,” I say. “Yes. And yes.”
His reply is not in words. He begins to pat my backside, just above my sex, while deft fingers slide through the wet heat of my body, an attack on my senses from all directions. And we are never going to get to the spanking because I’m going to come. Or maybe that’s the idea. He wants me to come. He wants the sting to be lost in the pleasure. But I don’t want that. I want the sting. I want—“Nick,” I pant out again, so close, I am about to tumble over.
His hands still, and he replies with, “That’s what I wanted, sweetheart,” seeming to understand exactly what I was telling him. “You on the edge, but not there yet. I’m going to spank you now, Faith. Seven times. The first two will be the hardest, but they will get softer from there. Count them out. Repeat that.”
“Count,” I say, adrenaline setting my heart into a gallop. “Harder then softer.”
“And then I’m going to fuck you, Faith. I’m going to turn you around, and you’re going to ride me. Understand?”
“Yes. Please stop talking or my heart is going to explode from my chest.”
“Deep breath, sweetheart. This isn’t new to you, but I am. And I’m not going to hurt you.”
I have no flippant remark this time. His hand is caressing my cheeks, warming them, as it should be, but too often, I have known a hard palm with no preparation. But he doesn’t rush. One second. Two. Three. Four. “Nick,” I plead.
“Now, sweetheart,” he says, and I barely have time to realize the impact of that endearment before his palm is on my backside, a hard sting that arches my back and oh God. It’s back. “Count,” he orders.
“Two,” I breathe out.
And another. “Three.” I can’t breathe, and fingers are stroking my sex. I forget to count but he does it for me. “Four,” he says, and then another palm, softer now, just as he promised.
“Five,” I breathe out.
“Six,” he says, that gravelly tone to his voice is back now, the force of his palm on my skin following.
“Seven,” I breathe out, and it’s done. He smacks my backside and then to my shock, his mouth is on it, kissing it, a strange tenderness to that act that I swear has me as breathless as the spanking. And then he is turning me to face him, cradling my body against his, his mouth coming down on mine, and it too is tender, a slide of tongue, but I can feel his passion, his need that he controls, as he has me.
“Tell me you’re okay,” he demands.
“I am,” I say, shocked that he’s asked, that I believe he cares.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” I promise, my hand on his face. “I liked it. I like it so much that it’s…”
He is kissing me again then, and this kiss is different. This kiss is hungry, greedy even, and fierce. Addictive. Seductive. And it unlocks those things in me. I am kissing him back, and kissing him and kissing him. And he is touching me and I am touching him, hard, sinewy muscle beneath my palms. And I can’t get enough and that is what I feel from him. It’s not enough but we try to find that place where it is, where it will be. And some part of me knows that he’s given me what I want. There is nothing but this man, and yet, this experience is nothing as I expected. It’s good now.
I am so lost in Nick that I barely remember him pulling me around to straddle him or how his pants got down. But they are, and his thick shaft is between us. I reach down and stroke it, and I revel in the low groan that slides from his lips. “I feel like I’ve needed this since before I ever fucking met you.” His hands go to my waist and he lifts me while I guide his cock to my sex, and press him inside me. He’s so hard, so big, stretching me, filling me, and it’s been so long, and I can barely catch my breath. I breathe out as I take all of him, and finally, we’ve reached the place where we are here, wherever here really is.
But we don’t move. We’re staring at each other, and there is this magnetic pull between us that has nothing to do with sex. Or maybe it does. I just don’t know. But I feel this man inside and out. I feel him and see him as he does me and it’s not what I wanted, and yet, I am hypnotized by this moment, by him. A charge seems to spark suddenly between us, and we snap. He moves first, or maybe we move together, but he’s cupping my head, and my breast, and as our lips collide, I reach around him to the band at his hair and pull it free, sinking fingers in the long strands that surely must touch his shoulders. I tug on them, using them as an outlet for all the crazy sensations pulsing through my body.
Nick deepens the kiss, and then we are moving, swaying, fucking. Slow. Fast. Slow again. Our mouths lingering a breath apart before we erupt into wildness again. And I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to go back to reality. I want to stay lost in this man. And I fight to make that happen, to stay right here with him, but the build of pleasure is fierce, the passion on his tongue, in his touch, consumes me, and I have been so on edge for so long. And when he pulls me hard against him, thrusting into me as he does, I am there, in that sweet place that tenses my body.
The next moment, I’m tumbling over, my body spasming around him, my head buried in his shoulder. He wraps his arm around my waist, and thrusts again, a guttural sound sliding from his lips as he shudders beneath me. Time spirals and sways until we collapse into each other, and for long moments, neither of us move. We just lay there, breathing together, heavy, then slower and softer. And still we linger. It’s Nick that breaks this silence. “Faith, sweetheart,” he says softly, cupping my face. “As much as I want to hold you like this the rest of the night, and I will again, I had better take care of this condom before we make baby Tigers.”
We won’t, I think. We can’t, but I don’t say that to him. “Yes. Of course.” I start to move away, but he shifts us and rolls me to my back, pulling out before he says, “Always trying to run.”
My brown furrows. “How was that running?”
“It was in your eyes.”
“It wasn’t in my eyes.”
“No?”
“No.”
I wrap his hair in my hand. “Why does an attorney of your stature get away long hair?”
“I am nothing anyone expects. And that works for me. Does it work for you, Faith?”
I release his hair, and my fingers curl on what I now know to be perpetual stubble on his jaw. “It pisses me off,” I say, honestly, because I still don’t want to want this man, and I am so far from fucking him out of my system, as he’d suggested, that it’s almost laughable.
His eyes darken. “I’ll take that for now.” He covers my hand with his and brings it to his mouth, kissing it. “Where’s the bathroom, sweetheart?”