by Tina Donahue
His lids made it halfway up on his second try. Jasmine stood at the side of the bed, washed in moonlight, watching him. The edges of her shimmery pink robe parted, showing her bejeweled navel and moist cleft. Carnal greed flashed in her eyes, deeper than before, more intense.
Her earlier promise about sex games came to mind. It thickened his cock and sharpened his voice. “Get the corset.”
An immodest smile tilted the corners of her mouth. She padded to the dresser, her robe rippling over her shapely form. The sight pulled him to a sitting position. He inhaled deeply and caught the mouthwatering aroma of smoked meat. She’d placed a tray on the right nightstand, crowding her sexy figurines. He saw two plates heaped with equal portions of steaming ham, potato salad, coleslaw, containers of amber-colored sauce, and squares of cake. Next to it stood a pair of Coronas, the glass bottles beaded with moisture. His stomach growled noisily.
Corset in hand, she turned. “You’re starving. I made you wait too long. Please forgive me.”
Her voice had a drugged, faraway quality about it, as though she’d already immersed herself in their game of master and slave.
Fine with him. “Come here,” he ordered.
She did, running her fingers down his chest. His pecs jumped, loving it. She murmured, “Do you want me to feed you now?”
“The food can wait. I want you in the corset.”
She dropped it on his lap and depressed the start button on her wall-mounted CD player. A popular Eagles tune from the nineties filled the room. Her silk robe billowed away from her body and drifted to the floor. She unhooked her belly chain and diamonds, dropping the jewelry between a pair of statues. The metal jingles died quickly. Her fragrance did not. She smelled of sex, musky sweet.
Fully alert, Mike grabbed the corset and left the mattress, his impatient cock brushing her glutted vulva. “Raise your arms so I can put this on you.”
The pose flaunted her generous breasts. His hands shook, antsy to lift them and know their precious weight. He resisted, leaving the delight for later. For now, he navigated the corset past her elbows and head to her torso.
Hands beneath her hair, she held it above her shoulders and turned. “Lace me tight. Trap me so I can’t get free.” Her voice, a blend of hunger and submission, offered what no lucid man could refuse.
The cheval mirror reflected their bodies. From this angle, her rounded cheeks hid his rod as though he were inside of her, his cock planted to its base. A pleasant agony spun through him, grating his voice. “Don’t worry, you won’t get free.” He looped the laces around his hands and pulled carefully. He wanted her breathless from him, not this damned thing.
Her chin pointed to the ceiling, exposing her throat. Ass jutted out, she begged, “Tighter, please.”
In the mirror, he saw the fabric drawn snugly across her breasts, the swells close to spilling out just as he’d imagined. “No. This is good enough.” She’d said she wanted a master and he had no intention of disappointing or harming her. He tied the laces in a loose bow and turned her to face him.
She sought his mouth. He made her wait, his lips to her throat, tasting a mixture of perspiration and perfume as he imprisoned her wrists behind her back.
Although she mewled contentedly, she rotated her shoulders and fisted her fingers, trying to get free.
Puzzled, he whispered in her ear. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to touch you.”
Her hair cushioned his face, smelling as good as the rest of her, compromising his ability to think. He gave himself a moment to collect himself. “Not until I’m through with you.”
“But—”
Her protest stopped with his feverish kiss, the kind he’d given his first girlfriend in middle school. All passion, no finesse. Jasmine didn’t seem to mind. She sucked his tongue as if she’d never tasted anything better.
For her kindness, he slowed down, savoring her mouth as he would a perfectly prepared steak, letting flavors, scents, textures govern. She melted into him, the frenzy gone, replaced by something more substantial, though he couldn’t put a name to it.
Ready to go further, he ended their kiss and opened his eyes for an unguarded view of what he’d accomplished with her. She seemed at peace and very tired. Before he could comment on the fatigue, her eyes opened. In them, he saw mounting heat, which contradicted the apparent sleepiness. To make certain, he asked, “You want to rest for a bit?”
“I want to touch you.” She tried to turn her wrists in his hands.
Smiling, he increased his grip. “You damn sure will. First though, I’m going to touch, lick and fuck every part of you.”
“Whatever you want.”
Her eager obedience did amazing things to the package between his legs. With one arm around her waist and the other behind her knees, he lifted her into his arms. Her head fell back, presenting the creamy expanse of her chest and neck. Mesmerized, he dropped his head to her cleavage, womanly and magical. His tongue dipped into the narrow channel. Jasmine’s hand tightened on his shoulder, her nails raked his skin.
A rush of air escaped his lungs, leaving him panting for more. He steadied his knee on the bed and deposited her in the middle of the mattress, her feet near the headboard. Her arms left him and came to rest above her shoulders. Sinuously, she unfolded her body, spreading it over the frosty linens, prepared to give him whatever he wanted.
His lungs burned. Moonlight slanted across her corset, its blue-green sheen no match for the glittery laces or the woman it contained. Clouds of dark hair flowed away from her face, giving her an untamed appeal. He imagined her as a modern-day Siren, reclined on a massive rock in a volatile ocean, spray shooting upward, her hooded eyes and sultry call ensnaring mere mortals and gods.
“Don’t move,” he said, his voice pitched so low it scraped his throat. He went to her robe, pulled the sash from its loops and crawled across the bed to her.
Her eyes flicked to the silk tie.
He assured, “I won’t hurt you.”
Her attention returned to him. Something far greater than trust and akin to rapture filled her voice. “I know.”
He draped his body over hers. His belly twitched at the bumpiness of the corset’s laces, though he soon forgot the discomfort as their mouths nearly touched. Her uneven breaths tickled his upper lip. A pulse beat in his groin, bringing his cock to attention. It nudged her moisture. “Give me your hands.”
They went to his back, her nails scratching him lightly, while she kissed him fucking hard.
His thoughts scattered with her assault. He’d been with passionate women before, though even they hadn’t behaved like this. He wanted to believe he turned Jasmine on as no other guy had. You’re awesome, she’d said. No, his mind amended, she’d said he was freaking awesome and kept proving it. Damn. Remembering the sash, he leaned on one elbow and reached behind to cover her hand. She gave it up though her tongue stayed in his mouth, swishing and wiggling to capture every contour and taste.
It took him three tries to wrap the silk around her wrist. He kept forgetting it as she coaxed his tongue into her mouth and sucked him to distraction. With a grunt, he shifted to his other elbow, took her free hand and finished their kiss.
Tattered breaths pumped from her. He felt her gaze on him as he tied her wrists to the tall footboard’s left post. A simple job, though he made more of it than need be, not wanting to hurry, preferring to build her excitement as she waited for his next move.
She trembled at his fingers running down the inside of her arm. He gave the ultra-sensitive spot a series of wet kisses, certain no other guy had thought to do it, which made this virgin territory. Pleasured sounds rose from her core, unlike any he’d ever heard. He grinned, feeling damn near smug at his erotic skills.
Not wanting to neglect her breasts, his hand travelled there, running just beneath the corset’s top. She made a noise halfway between approval and a demand for more. He kissed her smooth, sweetly scented armpit.
She breathed o
ut her request. “Lower.”
Pretending not to understand, he made his voice firm. The master she wanted. “I’ll get to your breasts in time.”
“No.” Her tongue darted out, journeying the length of her lips. Lids closed, her brows drew together. “I meant my clit.”
He put the heel of his hand on the edge of her mound. His fingers curled over the side into her slippery folds. “Here?”
Her hips bucked. “God, yes.”
“You want me to eat you?”
A shiver passed through her. She whispered, “Yes.”
“In any way I want.” He made it a statement, not a question.
“Yes—what?” The confusion in her voice showed in her opening eyes. “What other way is there than with your mouth?”
He looked over at the tray of food, then back at her. “I’m thinking the sauce is going to taste good on you.”
The ashen light betrayed her surprise, hastened away by her increasingly husky voice. “Yes, it will.”
He really had her now, betting this was another first for her, just like the kisses on the underside of her arm. His hand glided down her thigh as he gave his next command. “Bend your knees and spread your legs.”
She felt, tasted and smelled her arousal, a female essence grown stronger with the curse.
Her wrists twisted the silk binding, her overwhelming need not allowing her to relax or take a full breath. Every second Mike made her wait for his touch was a brutal eternity. Her mind pleaded for him to hurry.
He dipped his long fingers in the honey sauce, testing its flavor. His brows lifted in obvious approval. He sucked his fingertips clean.
A soft rock tune by Lionel Richie wound down. She heard the grandfather clock in her office bonging the hour—two am. Dawn would come before she knew it. Lily’s voice rang in her mind: “We have to keep him here. It’s the only way.”
Mike turned to her, craving in his dark eyes. “Spread your legs farther.”
His directive pushed away her sister’s voice and the worry over time. Her connection to him deepened. His honor and gentle kindness touched Jasmine in a way she’d never anticipated or experienced with the other men. They’d served a purpose, nothing more. Mike fed her darkest and most hopeless desires. She wanted him to take her in ways no one else had.
He put the linen napkins between her legs and tipped the plastic container, allowing the honey sauce to drip onto her mound.
It wasn’t what she expected. She stiffened.
“Shit.” He sounded worried and brought back his hand, stopping the flow. “It’s not hot. Does it sting?”
“No.” She swallowed. “It’s so—so…”
“What?”
“Wet. It’s dripping down me.”
He watched, then leaned down and smelled it on her flesh, making her feel even more naked. His head tilted to hers. “Would that be in a good way?”
“Oh God yeah.”
He guided more of the sauce over her clit and down her swollen folds. Her sharp intake of breath became lost in a mewling moan. He spread his knees against her feet so she couldn’t close her legs. His fingers stroked her most intimate areas, coating them fully, preparing them for his mouth.
He started high on her mound, gorging himself, his laps prolonged, lewd. In their wake, he left her skin tingling and wanting.
“Lower,” she begged.
His thumbs pressed into her inner thighs, drawing the skin tight to display her cunt. Cooled air fell from the ceiling vents. Combined with the clammy sauce, goose pimples rose on her arms and legs. Mike’s mouth warmed her again. He drove his tongue all the way into her opening, his lips to her vulva.
Her buttocks clenched at the wondrous indecency of the act. Slick juices poured from her sheath. His tongue retreated, taking a different route, this equally nice. He licked the puffy fold on the right, working his way toward her clit.
“Please,” she cried when he stopped suddenly, “lick it.”
He moved to the left fold. She yanked on the silk sash, shaking the bed, crazy to get free so she could touch her nub. Although he must have noticed, it didn’t sway him. His mouth suckled sluggishly, lingering in the same place for too long.
One pant followed another. Soon, she was breathless, unable to cry out as he caught her off guard and focused on the most exquisite spot. Stunned, she lifted her hips from the bed.
With his mouth clamped securely on her, he wasted no time in tonguing her hard peak as fast and rough as possible.
She found her voice, though not to form words. A gravelly cry had to do, accompanied by a thin wail with the unmistakable ring of satisfaction. The orgasm lasted longer than all the others, wringing everything from her body and mind.
Her hard gasps competed with the music’s volume. An interminable amount of time seemed to pass before her heart settled down, though movement remained impossible. She lay sprawled on the bed, limp and glowing with cherished calm.
Mike watched. “You okay?”
She swallowed and nodded.
He winked then rubbed the napkin over his face, cleaning off the sauce.
Finding her voice, Jasmine whispered, “That was wonderful.” He’d given her an instant of true peace. A gift she hadn’t experienced since angering Desiree. “Thank you.”
He offered a devilish grin. “My pleasure. Now turn over.”
Her gaze trickled down his body to his weighty sex. His balls had drawn snug to his body. Blood engorged his shaft. He was so hard the crown hovered above the linens, pointing at her.
Enjoying a quiet moment no longer seemed important and not only because of the curse. The real Jasmine wanted them joined. She, more than the woman she’d become, wanted him to fuck her senseless.
He’d left enough slack in the binding so she could roll to her belly and push to her knees.
Given her limbs’ lingering heaviness, it took her two tries. Certain her legs were widely apart and her ass lifted, she lowered her head to the mattress and turned her face to the mirror.
Her hair, tangled and damp, clung to her neck. At some point, her left nipple had popped from its prison. Tight and just perfect for his mouth, it skimmed the top of her corset. The angle of her ass invited. When he mounted her, the mirror would provide a flawless view. She wanted to see all of it. “Is this all right?”
He mumbled, “Fuck yeah,” and crawled between her legs. His sac and rod, both ready for action, hardly swung with his efforts. On his knees, he brought his hands to her cheeks, gripping their meatiness, spreading them so he could see each entrance.
She imagined him mounting her vaginally then anally, taking what he willed, behaving exactly as she craved. Her insides fluttered at the thought, thickening her voice. “I have condoms.”
His head jumped up. He leaned over to see her face.
She explained what she would have once found shocking. “For when you take me anally.”
His coppery cheeks flushed.
“Unless you don’t want to,” she added quickly, surprised by his reaction. “I’ll understand if you’d rather not.”
“Actually, I’d like it very much.” He looked bewildered, then frowned. “I thought you said you didn’t have any condoms.”
“I said I have an IUD, and I do.” Since Desiree cursed her, she’d had to make certain she used every protection. “Is that all right?”
“Oh, honey.” His shoulders shook with giddy laughter. “It’s so all right, it’s fucking great.”
“Then please don’t make me wait any longer.”
His smile caught and faded. Head turned to the mirror, he regarded her reflection as his fingers skimmed her vaginal lips, so dilated they easily pulled away from her cleft, allowing clear entry into the wet passage. He made certain she could see him transferring her moisture to his sex, paying particular attention to the cap.
The rounded knob was darker than the rest of him, the skin pulled so tight she imagined the slit at the top opening like a tiny mouth.
She
shuddered the moment it made contact with her body. He prodded her vagina, while his other fingers teased her clit. Her bound hands clawed the linen, fisting around it. The head of his cock moved inside slowly.
Her inner muscles tightened at his drawn-out entry, his size and pace stretching her beyond endurance. He made her accept it, welcome it, long for it as he pushed a bit and paused, stroked for a second then stopped, repeating the actions over endless seconds, his shaft still not fully within, her nub aching.
Another song ended. A new one began, its cords plaintive, mirroring her torment.
He increased it. His hand left his cock and went to her breast. He amused himself with her freed nipple, tugging and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger as his other hand played with her clit.
His rod continued to penetrate.
Jasmine’s attention swung from sensation to sensation, to what he did to her cunt, her clit, her breast and back again. Her teeth sank into the comforter, biting it to silence her cries as his body finally touched hers, his sex fully contained, his balls snuggled to her ass.
Her vaginal walls trembled around him. He responded by flexing his cock, making her accommodate him even more. She had no choice, wanted none, braving whatever he chose to do.
His hands flicked her pleasure zone and ran over her nipple. He backed out of her, releasing his shaft but not the head. It remained inside. It plundered as he thrust hard and fast with unbending male lust.
His mouth fell open on a feral cry, the same as hers. Head reeling, she watched his face in the mirror, his features scrunching as he pumped again, his pace increased, though not swift enough to end this. She pushed her body into his to hurry him along. He slowed even more, demanding she bear this hardship, to suffer helplessly.
Her lids slid down. Sweat coated her neck and shoulders. The air-conditioning’s cool breath dried them. She shivered and moaned at his solid plunge followed by rapid pumps. During it, his fingers flew over her nipple and clit. Her mind screamed no, she couldn’t tolerate much more. Her body encouraged and hailed it.