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Hot Dad Page 19

by Whitley Cox


  Because I had to, I followed him.

  He had it all. Not that I’m overly versed in the ways of kinky paraphernalia, but I’m pretty sure Sam had one of everything. My eyes traipsed over all the toys, and despite how inviting and enticing everything was, my gaze kept returning to the bright-red-handled, double-tailed whip lying innocently near the front. I stroked the butter-soft leather.

  “That’s a quirt,” he said softly, picking it up, running it through his nimble fingers. “Used much like a riding crop or cattle whip. It can pack a wallop, but it’s also really fun.”

  I swallowed, letting my eyes drift back to the dresser. I picked up a small metal object that looked like a five-row pinwheel. Something a pastry chef might use to perforate dough.

  “This here,” he said, handing me the quirt and taking the pinwheel, “is a slightly more devious version of the Wartenberg wheel.”

  I couldn’t contain the snort that rumbled up through my nose. “And here I thought you’d raided the kitchen.”

  A warm and wonderful chuckle shook his ripped chest. “It does look like something I’ve seen my mother use while baking.” His nose wrinkled, and that lone dimple winked at me in his cheek. “Huh. I never thought of that before.” He took my arm and gently ran the pinwheel over my skin. Goosebumps chased the wheel, making my whole body tingle.

  When he released me, I pawed at the quirt in my palm again, running it over the back of my hand and feeling the leather against the pads of my fingers.

  “Is this your choice tonight?”

  I nodded as I handed it back to him. “I think so.” But then I spied something toward the back of the dresser and picked it up. “Is this a cane?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Have you caned people before?”

  “Not in some time. I’m probably pretty rusty, and it’s usually something you work up to.”

  “Oh.” I put it back down.

  His finger came up beneath my chin, and he turned me to face him. “One day, Harper. I’m not letting you go. So eventually we’ll try it all.”

  A hard lump in my throat made it tough to swallow, while more heat and a growing wetness pooled between my legs.

  “Now,” he said, back in Dom mode. “Go stand over by the bed.”

  I did as I was told, well aware of the constant ache emanating from my chest and out and down into the rest of my body.

  He picked up a bundle of white rope from the top of the nightstand and began to unravel it. My body trembled, equal parts nerves and excitement.

  Kneeling down again, he slipped the rope up between my legs, stopping mid-thigh. He glanced up to find me watching him. But he didn’t say anything and instead leaned his face forward and gave me one long, devious little sweep of his tongue up between my folds. I convulsed where I stood. He proceeded to tie the rope around my thigh, only to then fasten my wrist to my thigh so there was scarcely four inches of movement allowed. He drew out another length of rope and did the same to the other thigh and wrist.

  Standing up and admiring his handiwork, he took a step back. “I like ropes. I like the imprints they leave on the skin, the way they feel. They’re better than neoprene or leather in my opinion. But for all intents and purposes, this is called a thigh sling.”

  I nodded. “Wh-what would you like me to do, sir?”

  Fire, molten hot, ignited in those luscious baby blues of his. “That’s a good start.” His voice was dark and low, gravelly. It kissed across my skin, licking and biting, and he’d barely even touched me yet. But even then, as in command and controlled as his tone was, I couldn’t deny the hint of quaver I detected as well. Maybe he wasn’t as composed and collected as I thought he was. Hmmm.

  “First, you’re going to suck me,” he said, stepping forward again and applying a slight bit of pressure to my shoulder.

  I fell to my knees at his feet. His hand shifted to my head; his fingers wove their way into my hair. With his other hand he unzipped his jeans (apparently already unbuttoned) and pushed them down his thighs. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. His cock, hard, thick and beautiful, sprang free and nearly knocked me in the eye. A bead of pre-ejaculate glowed on the plum-hued crown; I licked my lips.

  “I’m going to come down your throat.”

  Sweet baby Jesus. The way Sam morphed into alpha Dom was incredible. And a huge fucking turn-on. Yes. Yes, I wanted that too. I wanted to please him. Pleasure him. My tongue flicked out, and I lapped up the pre-cum. His fingers tightened in my hair, and he pushed forward slightly. I opened my mouth wide and took him deep, humming softly as I let him bottom out in my throat.

  “Yes,” he hissed. “Take it all, you filthy girl.”

  Dirty talk. Yes!

  I closed my eyes and went to task, swirling my tongue around and around with each dip and bob of my head. I couldn’t use my hands as they were plastered at my sides, but between my mouth and Sam’s gentle but firm guidance, I was able to get him to that glorious edge pretty quickly.

  “God, you’re a sexy little slut,” he ground out as his hips started to buck into my face and he continued to slam my head into his pelvis. “I’m so fucking close. That hot little mouth of yours. So fucking sexy. Fuck, Harper. I’m going to come so hard.” He jerked his fingers in my hair and angled my head up. “Open your eyes and watch me come. That’s what you wanted.”

  My lashes fluttered open, and a single tear trickled down out of the corner of my eye from how deep he was hammering into me. I fought off the gag reflex several times, and eventually I was able to take him full hilt, no problem. His fingers tightened in my hair, his hips slammed forward hard and he let go.

  “Fuuuuuuck,” he groaned, his eyes closing and his head tipping back.

  Warm, salty semen landed on my tongue and shot down my throat. I swallowed it all with quick gulps before twirling my tongue around from base to tip and pulling off.

  He looked down at me. His cheeks nearly matched his ruddy beard; his eyes were a dark blue and glassy. “On the bed, face down,” he ordered. But there was no denying the slight crack in his voice or the ragged breathing as his chest rose and fell in quick succession. With a big grin and a final kiss to the crown of his cock, I gracefully rose to standing and turned around, inching my way onto the bed.

  “Center of the bed. Face down, ass up.”

  I did as I was told. It was a bit of a weird sensation just trust-falling forward, face first onto the bed, but once I reorganized my limbs, spread my legs, and turned my cheek, it wasn’t such a bad position. Carly often slept in this position, and now I could see why. I felt a dip in the mattress behind me, and without a second to think about what was to come, two sensations hit me at once. Cold and prickly. Scratch that, not cold—freezing. And right on my anus.

  “What the … ” I yelped. But his hand stilled my jerky movements, and he pressed the ice or whatever it was between my cheeks. Meanwhile, with the other hand, that Wartenberg wheel ran up and down the backs of my legs and over the mounds of my ass five times over.

  “Is that ice?”

  “Yes.”

  An involuntary shiver sprinted down my spine as he continued to rub the ice up the crease of my ass and around my tender rosette. I’m going to be honest here, as much as the ice was torture, it was also pretty amazing. Sensations duelled inside me as the growing warmth in my core competed with the ice outside. All the while, that wheel just kept on trucking. I inhaled when he ran it up my inner thigh and a spike grazed my outer labia. He did it again on the other side, this time with much more conviction. I melted into the mattress, the ache between my legs spiralling out, making my entire lower body clench in the need for release. Not since earlier when he’d led me to the brink, only to catch me seconds before I tumbled over, had I felt this close to climax.

  “You’re so responsive,” he murmured. “Do you like the ice?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Hmmm.”

  He removed it, and I mewled in protest. But that wheel never
stopped. Over my back and around my ribs, it felt like mice on stilts were skittering across my skin. He reached below me and tugged on the chain between the nipple clamps. I groaned against the bed as pain streaked through me, landing right on my clit. My legs quivered as wetness trickled down my inner thigh. Nobody had ever made me this wet, turned me on this much without touching my clit. Ever.

  My nipples rubbed against the duvet as I shifted; more pain, more pleasure radiated through my chest and out into my limbs and trunk. I let my eyes close and was heading into a glorious dozy headspace when more cold, this time soft and velvety, swept up through my folds and swirled around my anus.

  It couldn’t be. Could it?

  Back and forth, back and forth it flicked. My body trembled and shook of its own volition on the bed as if someone had just zapped me with a stun gun.

  Was that his tongue?

  Just as quickly as that tongue came and pleasured, it was gone. The wheel was gone, too, and I was left there on the bed alone, bereft of Sam’s touch. I heard no sounds, not even a breath from the man behind me. I craned my neck around and saw him kneeling there, the quirt in his hand. His incredible blue eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. I braced myself for the impact, but instead he dropped the quirt on the bed and his hands came up. He massaged my cheeks. It was lovely. Those big, strong, capable hands of his engulfed my ass cheeks and kneaded the muscles until I was putty. I allowed my to eyes close, pushing into his ministrations. One hand was still kneading when a whoosh and burst of cool air, followed by a crack and a blinding pain, made my eyes flash open. He removed his hand and brought the quirt back down over the other cheek. I moaned and squirmed on the bed. Another one, this time to my lower back. A hiss escaped my clenched teeth along with a gritted “Fuck!”

  “Are you okay?”

  My chest heaved against the bed, and my nipples ached. But my pussy was saturated; I’d never felt more alive. “Green,” I panted.

  Another whoosh, more cold air followed by a loud crack, filled the room as the tails of the whip landed on the backs of my thighs.

  “Jesus!”

  “Yeah.” His chuckle was warm and wonderful, like smooth whisky. “The backs of the thighs are almost worse than the ass.”

  “G-green.”

  Another one came down, but this time it was just on my right cheek. I let out a sigh only to jump and yelp when an even harder one landed seconds later on my left cheek.”

  “Fuck, Harper, the lines on your ass right now are so damn beautiful. Look, baby. Look what you do to me. I’m hard as fuck again.” I opened my eyes to see him angled to the side, his length in his palm. He gave it a couple of sexy-as-fuck tugs before bringing the quirt back up and delivering the lashing of all lashings.

  I mewled and writhed on the bed. Pain and pleasure were coming at me from every side. My nipples were so hard, so engorged and so sensitive; my pussy dripped and my ass stung.

  Two more at rapid-fire speed came down across both cheeks before he tossed the quirt to the side. I heard the tear of a condom wrapper and watched as he sheathed himself. Then he snatched something off the bed, looped it around and under me. More rope, this time silky-soft, grazed my belly. He grabbed the other end of the rope and held an end in each hand. Notching himself at my core, he thrust in without hesitation. He was balls-deep in seconds. I let out a loud oof from the impact but instantly gripped him like a fist. Passion unravelled inside of me, taking over as the sense of Sam finally coming home careened through my body, along with liquid desire and the intense need to give him all of me.

  Gripping the ends of the rope and pulling tight, he started to buck into me wildly.

  No fucking way. He was using the rope as horse reins, for power and leverage.

  How hot was that?

  The rope dug into my abdomen, but it didn’t hurt, it just added to everything, to the whole moment. I closed my eyes again and just allowed myself to feel, pushing back into his hips. A moan rumbled deep in my throat when his balls slapped my clit. His hand came below, and he tugged on the chain of the clamps.

  I moaned again.

  Fuck, I was close.

  Pleasure clawed through me as Sam rammed harder and harder into my quivering pussy. I gripped him tight as he withdrew, then even tighter when he plunged back inside. He swore beneath his breath behind me and picked up speed. I was close, but I think Sam was closer. Was he going to deny me again?

  Was this part of my punishment, orgasm deprivation?

  He stilled, pulled hard on the reins before letting out a slew of muffled grunts and profanities as his cock pulsed inside me. I squeezed tight and pushed back, letting him hit me deep and hard.

  Moments later he pulled out, and I felt him leave the bed. My whole body hummed like an overpopulated beehive. I needed to come so badly it hurt. I was on fire, but there was nowhere for the flames to go. They just kept building and building, growing hotter and hotter until I was afraid I was going to end up no more than a charred heap of unsated bones. I didn’t bother opening my eyes. I couldn’t. Every muscle was so tightly wound, aching for release, that I couldn’t even open my eyes if I tried.

  He was back in seconds. A hand fell to my shoulder, and the other one rested on my hip. He helped me lever up onto my knees.

  “Open your eyes, Harper.”

  They wouldn’t open for me, but they opened for him. Slowly I lifted my lashes. He was gorgeous. Perfect and sculpted and all mine.

  “This is going to hurt,” he said with care and sweetness in his tone.

  He released the first rubber-tipped nipple clamp, and I swore under my breath. Less than a second later the bud was in his hot mouth as he sucked and laved at it with his talented tongue. I mumbled something, I’m not quite sure what, but it was probably something like, “That’s nice.”

  With a funny little popping sound, he released the bud from his mouth and went to work on the other one. I braced myself for the pain. It came on at warp speed. But his mouth was right there again, a balm to soothe the ache. I arched my back and crooned from how good he made me feel. Once my nipples were happy again, he sat back on his knees. My eyes fell to his groin. He was already semi-hard again.

  He caught where I was looking and chuckled. “I might have to fuck you one more time.”

  Okay! So long as I get to come this time.

  “Are you all right?”

  I nodded and blinked. “Yes. Green, please.”

  His mouth curved into a small smile. “You’re incredible.”

  “When does the punishment come?”

  That small smile erupted into a big grin. He tilted his face sky-high and barked out a deliciously wonderful laugh. “Was that not punishment enough for you?”

  “I didn’t think I was supposed to enjoy a punishment. Isn’t that why they call it a punishment?”

  More laughter rolled through him as with the grace of a lithe and predatory jungle cat, he slid onto his back. “Well, I never want to hurt you. The quirt was your punishment, as is the deprivation.”

  “Oh.”

  He inched toward me and slid his feet between my legs, slithering down to the end of the bed until his mouth was poised at my core and I was essentially sitting on his face. “Do you want to come right now?”

  I swallowed and nodded. “More than anything.”

  “So, the fact that I’ve come twice, and you haven’t come at all has been frustrating?”

  “Yes,” I ground out.

  “Good.” His tongue darted out, and he flicked my clit. I lurched on the bed from the sudden rush of pleasure.

  “D-do I get to come this time?” As much as I tried to keep the plea from my tone, it was tough. God, how I wanted to come.

  His hum made my hips jerk. “We’ll see. You’ve pleased me tonight, so we’ll see. But don’t for a second think you sitting on my face is about you. I happen to love eating pussy.” Then there were no more words, from either one of us. Silence reigned as Sam’s lips enclosed my clit, and he sucked so hard
I thought he might suck it right off.

  I gyrated against him and those talented fingers and even more talented tongue as they took me over and over again straight up to the top of the mountain, encouraged me to hang a toe over the edge, encouraged me to jump, only to then pull me back from the ledge and drag me back down to the bottom. A nip to my inner thigh here, a weird flick there, and I’d lose the sensation to come and have to begin the ascent again.

  I’m not sure how long I kneeled over his face, but when the building orgasm inside me asked for release and I was seconds away from obliging, Sam once again lugged me back down with a pinch to my butt cheek. I growled out in frustration. “Fuck!”

  His chuckle below me sent new shards of longing zinging through my body, and I lowered myself down onto his face even more. I’d suffocate the bastard unless he let me come. Yeah, that was a good plan.

  “I need to breathe to get you off,” he muffled with a laugh. His hands came up to my hips and he lifted me a few inches off him.

  “Please, sir. I need to come.” My body ached now. Worse than when I’d had the nipple clamps and Sam had been using the quirt. Desire edged with a sharp blade of pain pulsed inside of me. Every sweep of his tongue, every moment I didn’t get release was pure torture, and I bit back a scream. I was getting ready to curse him out and say red or at the very least yellow when he pushed two fingers inside me, pressed firmly on my G-spot and sucked hard on my clit.

  The orgasm attacked me from out of nowhere. I hadn’t even been at the top of the mountain, and here Sam had tossed me right off. Pleasure flared white-hot and forced my eyelids shut as I gave in to the rolling waves of euphoria, the deluge of erotic sensations that seemed to just build and grow bigger and brighter until my body couldn’t take anymore. And like a dandelion gone to seed, they burst free and floated off up into the ether, taking a small piece of me with them.

  My mouth opened to say something, anything, but nothing came. A silent cry to the heavens was all I managed. Finally, after what I was sure was forever and a day, I slumped down over Sam’s head and my cheek hit the mattress. He pulled out from under me, and in seconds, I felt the ropes around my wrists and thighs loosen. He pulled them free, and blood rushed and heated the places the ropes had been. It was a pleasurable rush. I realized now what all the fuss was about with the Japanese rope bondage stuff. It felt nice to be tied up, but it felt even better when the ropes were released.

 

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