by BETH KERY
Emma found herself hugging the center portion of the stool in almost unbearable excitement.
Smack.
He’d paddled her. She jumped slightly, not because it was terribly painful, but because she’d been so tense in anticipation, not knowing what to expect. His hand was immediately there, soothing the sting, shaping her flesh to his. “Such a sweet ass,” he said. “You picked the exact paddle I’ve fantasized about using on you.”
“I did?” she asked shakily, highly distracted by his massaging, molding hand on her ass and the increasing burn on her clit. She ground her hips down instinctively against the bench. She couldn’t seem to help it—
“Yes,” he said, and his hand fell away. “But that doesn’t surprise me. Almost everything you do seems predesigned to drive me crazy.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her entire focus on the sensation of him pressing the paddle against her ass again and circling it slightly. She wished she could see him.
“No you’re not,” he said in a hard tone. “You love having me at your mercy as much as I love having you that way.” The paddle was gone and she knew it was swinging. She braced herself, but a small oh popped out of her throat when it landed with a thwack. It stung, but she’d managed not to jump this time. Then the paddle was gone again and she gripped onto the bench with knees and elbows. Smack. She suppressed a whimper.
“If it’s too much, you have to say so,” Vanni said, his hand on her ass, rubbing the stinging flesh.
“It’s not too much,” she insisted in a high-pitched, choked voice. His soothing hand paused. Spreading his hand on the crack of her ass, he lifted and spread her buttocks. She almost felt his gaze scorching her sex. She squirmed in excitement. Suddenly his hand was gone. He swatted her again.
“Keep your ass still for the paddle,” he warned. His voice sounded strained. Was he as excited as she was? She doubted it, considering the wicked little dual vibrator that was turning her to a bundle of sizzling nerves. A breeze from the open French doors wafted into the room, tickling her burning bottom and clit, the contrast of sensation pricking her senses even more. “Take one more and we’ll pause a moment,” she heard him say.
He landed the paddle with a popping noise. She moaned, the heat and sting from her ass transferring somehow to her clit.
“You’re doing very well,” he said from behind her, and she realized from the direction of his voice that he’d knelt behind her. She felt his hand between her spread thighs, reaching. He moved aside the end of the vibrator on her clit and pushed a blunt fingertip between her labia. She moaned uncontrollably as he pressed and circled the sensitive piece of flesh until she sizzled and her feet flexed as she started to crest. Then his hand was gone and she sensed he stood again. “You’re extremely wet,” he said in a hard tone. “But you’re doing very well by keeping still.” He stroked her ass. “You’re getting nice and warm. Can you take ten more?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so,” he said, and she heard the warmth in his tone. She gritted her teeth in anticipation, and the paddle fell again and again. He paused after three strokes. She jumped slightly when she felt the hard wood of the paddle rub against the sole of one of her feet.
“You’re curling up your feet. Do they burn?” he asked.
“Yes,” she gasped. How had he known how sympathetic the nerves on her feet were to her sex? He tapped very lightly with the tip of her paddle on her heel. She didn’t know why, but arousal shot through her. Her toes curled inward. She couldn’t stop grinding her hips down on the bench in order to get more friction on her sex. He cursed softly, and suddenly the power on the vibrator diminished. He’d put it on a lower setting.
“You have to have the most sensitive little body in existence,” he said, and she suddenly pictured the slant of his handsome mouth and the sharp glitter of arousal in his eyes as he took position behind her again and swung back the paddle.
“Ooh,” she breathed as he gave her two more brisk swats, the exciting sound of polished wood against skin reverberating around the room and echoing in her head when he’d paused.
“Are you going to remember this tonight?” he asked her, reaching between her thighs. Moving aside the vibrator, he stimulated her again with his finger. She cried out, unable to stop herself. He was so much more precise than the vibrator, applying an eye-crossing pressure and succinct glide against her lubricated flesh.
“Yes.” Always, she added in her lust-heavy brain.
“Would you like to come now, or would you prefer to wait until my cock is inside you?” he grated out. She clamped her eyes shut and scrunched her face tight, her body so tight and hungry for release.
“Emma?” he prodded, still rubbing her clit in a bull’s-eye fashion.
He removed his hand suddenly and used it to part her thighs several inches. She sensed his gaze on her like a touch. Had he lowered behind her? she wondered, her heart racing madly. Her inner thighs were damp, more than likely glistening from her juices. She gave an agonized moan, knowing he was a close witness to her blatant arousal. A thrill went through at the low, growling sound that emitted from his throat.
She shrieked when his mouth was suddenly on her, licking and sucking away the juices from her pussy.
“Oh God, Vanni . . . no . . . yes,” she moaned, not even sure what she was saying. Then his mouth was gone, and her whole body was straining tight for him.
“God you’re sweet. Answer me,” he grated out. “Do you want to come now, or would you prefer to wait until my cock is inside you?”
“Wait for your cock,” she whispered, the effort of restraint ripping at her. “Or try to?” she added on a high-pitched note.
“Good girl,” he snarled, and suddenly his hand was gone and the paddle was landing on her ass. He rubbed a buttock, squeezing the burning flesh lewdly into his palm. “Nice and hot and pink,” he muttered. “Keep trying, baby. This is killing me, too,” he said almost desperately.
He smacked her once lightly with his palm. She moaned, undone by the tense eroticism of the moment and his stark declaration of need. She had a wild urge to touch her ass, to feel what he was feeling. He peeled back her prickling cheeks suddenly. Emma whimpered in suspense in the tense seconds that followed. She felt completely exposed to him, her asshole and sex tingling beneath his stare. He made that low, growling noise deep in his throat, menacing and thrilling at once. Then he released her. Her panting breath paused when she heard the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle jingling, then a zipper lowering.
“Can . . . Can I please see what you’re doing?” she asked him shakily.
“Not yet,” he said. He paddled her again. She cried out, trying to stop herself from grinding her pussy against the vibrator and the bench, but only partially succeeding.
“Three more,” he said. “Keep still.”
She gritted her teeth to stop herself from writhing. It was very difficult. He’d known what he was doing by inserting the vibrator. The combination of burning pleasure on her sex and the sting of her bottom was unbearably exciting. The paddle landed with a crack. She whimpered. He hadn’t paddled her harder, but her ass was growing more tender and sensitive with each stroke.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, and she could tell that he’d knelt behind her.
“A little,” she admitted, even though the pain was already fading to a hot burn as he rubbed her ass with his hand. Again, he peeled back her cheeks. Again, Emma held her breath in the weighty silence that followed. He cursed quietly, and then the vibrator was sliding out of her. She gasped at the deprivation of the stimulation. “Oh,” she cried out when he inserted a thick finger into her pussy and plunged it back and forth.
“I couldn’t resist, even though you’ve got two more coming,” he said. “You’re so juicy . . . so warm. God, it’s going to be so good to explode inside you.”
She almost begged him to just t
ake her then. The suspense was killing her, and she wanted him so much. He withdrew his finger and rubbed her clit. Her eyes sprung and she gripped the bench tighter, every muscle in her body bunching tight. “You’re on the edge, aren’t you? Yet you remain so quiet. Why?”
“Why what?” she gasped.
“Why do you always stop yourself from screaming?” he asked, sounding almost angry.
“Because I thought that’s what you wanted.”
His circling finger slowed on her clit.
“Why would you think that?” he asked tautly.
She ground her hips against his hand. She couldn’t stop herself. “That’s what you told Astrid that night. You said you didn’t like her hysterics,” she said, too aroused to be anything but completely honest at that moment.
“Emma,” he said, his tone almost angry even though she didn’t really think he was. He began rubbing her clit again. She moaned in agonized pleasure. “I wish I could erase that memory from your brain. It has nothing to do with you and me. Do you understand me?”
She blinked her eyes open at his hard tone.
“Yes,” she managed, biting her lip because his circling fingertip was keeping her skating right on the edge.
“Tell me what you want me to do now, Emma,” he rasped, and she heard his rabid arousal as easily as she heard his voice. She clenched her eyes tight. What she wanted to do was come.
But she also wanted to please him.
“I want two more,” she said, her entire body trembling with the effort it took for her not to come against his hand.
His rubbing finger stilled, and then fell away. She bit her lip to stop from moaning in agony. The bench under her still provided a source of pressure, however, and she found herself squirming against it.
“You’re so incredible,” he said thickly, and Emma could tell from the sound of his voice he’d stood. “And after I give you your punishment and sink my cock inside you, what are you going to do for me?”
“Scream?” she replied shakily.
“That’s right,” he said darkly. “Don’t ever think I won’t want to hear you scream in pleasure for me.” He placed the end of the paddle on her ass and circled it slightly, getting her attention. “Raise your bottom off the bench for the last two,” he said. “It will help you to keep still. And I do want you to stay completely still.”
She pushed off slightly with her hands and knees, raising her ass several inches off the end of the bench.
“That’s right. Such a good girl,” he murmured. The paddle fell, biting at her ass. She choked off a cry. He gave a rough moan. The urge to look at him overwhelmed her. She turned her head and opened her eyes. He held the paddle in his right hand and fisted his enormous erection in the other. His fiery stare met hers. He was the very image of primal sex in that moment, a leashed storm straining to break. Her lips parted in awed arousal.
Her gaze lowered to his cock and pumping fist. His pants and underwear were bunched below his jutting erection and balls. He was furiously erect; the fat, tapered crown of his cock was flushed dark pink . . . so delicious looking. “I’m not that good, Vanni,” she whispered heatedly, the tip of her tongue brushing the inside of her lower lip. He groaned and pumped his cock harder.
“Yes you are,” he grated out. “And because of it, you’ll get another stroke.”
She watched him as he cracked off the last two. The image of him was so powerful, she barely noticed the sting of her ass. He held her stare as he leaned the paddle against the bench near her hand.
“You can lower your ass to the bench again.” The last glimpse she had of him, he was walking behind her, cupping his erection from below. A thrill of anticipation went through her when she sensed him lower behind her and he put his hands on her burning ass. “Brace yourself,” he said. “I’m going to fuck you. Hard.”
She bit her lip, waiting . . . burning. He didn’t make her wait long. The hard crown of his cock parted her channel. He tightened his hold on her bottom and thrust. She dropped her forehead to the bench and screamed. It was a good thing she was so wet, because he clearly wasn’t in the mood to wait. His growl was rough and feral as he immediately began to fuck her. The evidence of his rabid need only fueled her arousal. She hugged the bench, keeping herself steady for his onslaught, pushing back even, wanting more of him . . . craving all of him. His pounding cock was merciless. She felt herself cresting.
“Scream for me,” he rasped behind her. “Scream again for me, Emma.”
She wasn’t sure if she screamed or not. All thought left her as she finally succumbed to the burn, igniting gloriously. She came back to herself at the sensation of an almost uncomfortable pressure. She glanced around and whimpered. He’d come up on to his feet and had lifted her hips, serving her pussy to his cock in a relentless frenzy of need. He was so beautiful, it felt like something was going to burst inside her. She put her cheek back on the bench, helpless in the clutches of the storm. Her fingers brushed across the paddle he’d leaned there and she gripped it tight, the smooth wood grounding her for some reason. He cursed. She grimaced at the sensation of him swelling huge inside her. His low growl amplified to a roar.
He began to pour himself into her. She stared blindly, her mouth hanging open at the amazing sensation . . . the sacred one. He kept coming for what felt like an unprecedented period of time, sinking his cock again and again into her depths while he gasped and grunted.
His fucking motions eventually slowed, until he just held her fast against him, and the only sounds in the room were their erratic panting and in the distance, the sound of the sea breaking against the shore far below.
* * *
He lifted her and carried her over to the mussed bed. While she snuggled into the softness, he stripped off the rest of his clothes. When he lay on his back a moment later with Emma’s head on his chest and the cool breeze drifting across his heated skin, he experienced a rare, profound sense of peace. He trailed his hand up Emma’s supple back and along her arm, relishing in her shape and the silkiness of her skin.
Her presence.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
She lifted her head off his chest and looked at him. Her hair was a mess of gilded waves. Her cheeks and lips were still stained pink. She was adorable. Sexy as hell. He didn’t used to think those two things could go hand in hand so perfectly until he’d met Emma.
“You’re welcome,” she said, her soft brown eyes moving over his face.
His gaze narrowed. “There’s nine of them,” he said distractedly.
She raised her eyebrows in a query.
“Nine freckles on your nose,” he clarified.
“I hate every one of them,” she said, rolling her eyes and covering her nose with her hand.
He sat up partially, turning her in his arms so that she lay pinned beneath him. Her hand fell away in her surprise at his abrupt action. “I love every one,” he growled ominously. He kissed her nose repeatedly, stilling her wriggling, the sound of her laughter making him smile. “One kiss for each adorable freckle,” he said before he leaned down and tasted her lips. She was so sweet. Everywhere, he thought as his tongue dipped into her mouth. He’d like to kiss her like that in the soft bed forever, with the refreshing breeze cooling him, desire banked but glowing inside him like a warm ember that would leap back into a flame at any moment. When he lifted his head a moment later, her liquid brown eyes had gone sober as she looked up at him.
“I know what you meant now,” she whispered breathlessly. “When you said once that you could do exactly what you did to Astrid to me, and it would be completely different.”
A pain went through him at the idea of her still thinking about what she’d seen in that armoire. He meant what he’d said earlier. If only he could erase that night from her memory. If only he could eradicate it from his. He realized he was so caught up in his shame about what she
’d seen that perhaps he hadn’t fully understood her.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his fingers brushing against the delicate line of her jaw. “Don’t tell me you thought that”—he glanced in the direction of the bench—“was remotely like what you saw that night.”
“No. It wasn’t. That’s my point,” she said softly. “I mean, some of the actions might have been similar, but . . .” She faded off, seeming to struggle with finding the right words.
“I was making love to you, Emma,” he said starkly, exposing himself in an uncommon way because he hated to see her uncertainty. “I know I told you I wasn’t cut out for the long term, and then you set the time limit on our time together. Maybe you think that means that what we do together doesn’t matter, in any lasting sense . . . that it’s just sex. Just gratification. I disagree. I could be doing the kinkiest thing in the world to you, and I’d still be making love to you,” he said, trailing his finger over her flushed cheek. He saw amazement creep across her expression and raised his eyebrows. “Do you understand?” he asked, stroking her temple and the shell of her ear and relishing her tiny shiver.
“Yes,” she whispered before she touched his cheek, her simple caress and the expression in her eyes sweeter to him than anything he could ever recall in his life.
Chapter Thirty
Emma was not thrilled at the idea of rising from the comfortable bed and leaving Vanni’s arms in order to prepare for the dinner at the Hôtel Le Maj. The only consolation she had was that Vanni seemed just as reluctant to leave bed as she was.
“At least after the race on Sunday, I’ll have you all to myself for nearly a week,” he told her later as they stood in the bathroom together, naked and entwined. He kissed her softly and she felt herself melting against his solid, warm length. His open hand trailed over her ass and she shivered. “Are you sore?” he asked, breaking their kiss but still nibbling at her lips.