Sympathy For The Devil

by King, Asha

  “I don’t screw random women.”

  Her chest heaved with rising irritation and her blush hadn’t abated. “Except me?”

  So that was why she didn’t believe him.

  He took a step forward, then another. She backed up, hit the porch railing, and froze, staring up at him.

  “Are you here as a private investigator or because you’re jealous, Natasha?” He paused only inches away, the toes of his boots touching those of her running shoes.

  “Why would I be jealous?” she said, her eyes hard and challenging.

  “Why are you really here?”

  The porch railing creaked behind her, and her arms across her midsection tightened. Her breasts were thrust out, begging for his touch, and he wondered if her body was warming and tingling the way his was.

  His hands came down on either side of her, holding the rough railing and pressing against her hips.

  “Here, at my home, instead of trying to meet in a public place. After I warned you what would happen next time.” Closer still, until he could feel her body heat against his, hear the little panicked breaths she tried to clamp down on. “You’re looking for something. Something you think I can give you. Is that it, darlin’?”

  “I should go.” She didn’t move, though—made no effort to leave.

  “Maybe you’re thinking what I’m thinking.” He pushed his feet between hers, urging her into a wider stance. Her eyes grew glassy and a shudder worked through her as his hands folded on her hips.

  “What?” she whispered.

  “You’re thinking that you want to know what it’s like. To give up control. Be dominated. To have me tan that ass of yours before fucking it, and making you beg for every moment of it.”

  His words had the desired effect, tremors working through her body and chest heaving as she panted. He swept his eyes over her, through the scant two inches between them, and to her eyes again. His grip tightened on her hips and her still-crossed arms loosened slightly. Her head tipped to the side as he leaned forward, brushed his lips up her throat.

  “You’ll call me ‘sir’,” he whispered. “And you’ll beg. And you’ll thank me when I make you come.”

  Devin breathed her in, taking in the scent of rain, the whiff of fresh soap. Some women wore perfume, like they were covering something up; she smelled pure, real, clean. He kissed her throat and a sigh escaped her, her arms falling to grip the front of his T-shirt. She melded to him as he mouthed her jaw, worked toward her lips.

  When he claimed her mouth, she groaned, tightening her grip on his T-shirt. She opened to him, worked her tongue against his, fought for control but he wouldn’t give any of it. For this moment, she was his, and he’d show her that.

  He squeezed her hips roughly, took a step back and jerked her in a circle so she faced the yard beyond the porch where the rain continued to hammer down. “Hold the railing.”

  She hesitated.

  He leaned forward, speaking directly in her ear. “If you don’t put your hands on the railing right now, and don’t let go, I will tie you.”

  Natasha gasped but did as she was told, trembling and saying nothing.

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  She took in a sharp breath. “Yes. Sir.”

  Better. She’d catch on.

  He tugged her hips, making her take two steps back. The round globes of her ass awaited his touch, clad in cropped jeans. He wondered what she wore under them, if she’d gone casual or worn something special knowing he’d see. Though her fingers flexed on the railing, she didn’t let it go as he palmed her cheeks, adjusted her so her back was arched and ass thrust upward. He expected at any second to hear her call it off, to confirm the bit of doubt he had about why she was here. But when she said nothing, didn’t even whisper her own name, he continued.

  Devin worked her jeans down slowly, first popping the button and then lowering the zipper inch by inch to let everything sink in for her. She breathed heavily and stared straight ahead as he peeled the fabric from her skin, dragging it down to mid-thigh.

  Cream-colored lace panties met his gaze, stretched invitingly over her dark skin. These he gathered in one hand and gently pulled, knowing the crotch of them would rub against her, the rough lace brushing her sensitive flesh. She squirmed and gasped, flexing her hips.

  He could take her right then. Right there. Bent over the railing, her ass raised just for him. He delved his hand past her underwear, finding her soaked and responsive.

  Yes, he could take her. And she wouldn’t object.

  But that wasn’t as much fun.

  He brought down her panties to sit with her jeans and gave her a moment to wait, feeling the air. It had been a long time, long enough that he didn’t have new floggers. The old ones, Chelsea’s, were stowed in a box upstairs, never to be touched again. A part of him hadn’t expected to want new ones, to ever go to this place with a woman again.

  His cock ached as he unbuckled his belt, pulled the leather through the loops, and folded the length in two. This moment, here, where anticipation was palpable, where she was squirming with desire and nervousness, was one he stretched out and wished could last longer. He dragged the end of the folded belt over her, watching her flinch before settling again, growing used to the feel of supple leather against her skin.

  A deep breath filled his chest, heat spreading through his limbs as he raised the belt. This would be a gentle session, meant to shock and arouse rather than hurt, and he slowed the descent of the leather before it hit.

  The belt cracked as it lapped her skin. She bucked as it made contact, gasped. Still held the railing, still held the position he’d molded her into. Red glowed on her left ass cheek.

  He brought it down again, this time on the right. “How does it feel?”

  When she didn’t answer immediately, he spanked her again but with slightly more force this time.

  Natasha yelped. “Amazing.”

  “Do you want more?”

  “Yes.”

  The leather creaked in his hand.

  “Yes, sir,” she said in a shaky voice. “Please.”

  He gave her another and she writhed. God, he wanted her—wanted every part of her, wanted to spend the rest of the day in her tight heat. His feet kicked hers apart, widening her further, and at the angle of her hips it exposed her lower pussy to his gaze. A twist of his wrist and the belt was aimed differently; he flicked it up and the belt snapped between her legs.

  She cried out, straining against the railing. If he had her tied spread-eagled on the bed, had a proper flogger, he thought she could come just having her pussy spanked. It was definitely on the list of things he’d like to try. But for the time being, he stepped between her legs again and brought his hand to the apex of her thighs. Her cream covered his fingers, gave him easy passage as he thrust two digits into her.

  “Are you ready to come?”

  “Yes, sir,” she breathed out in a rush.

  “Beg.”

  Her brief moment of hesitation, he knew, came from never having done this before, to acclimating to their changed roles. She hadn’t completely let go yet, hadn’t given herself to him, even if she thought she had. “Please,” she said. “Please let me come.”

  “You will when I tell you to and not a second before. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Her entire body shuddered under his touch, thrusting two fingers in and out of her as he brought the belt down on her ass again. Heat radiated from the crimson marks on her skin, from the sweet spot between her legs. His aching dick strained his jeans, jerking at the sight of her primed and ready for him to take his pleasure. An intense craving overcame him, one he reined in lest he lose the control he so carefully kept coiled.

  He leaned to the side to watch her face. Her head was bowed, damp curls falling forward. Eyes squeezed shut. Biting her lip against his onslaught. She was holding on, tight—trying to obey, to keep from coming.

  “Not yet,” he commanded and she winced, her brow furro
wed in concentration. He’d lose her soon, but he wanted to push her to the brink, to see how far she could go.

  Natasha sobbed, clinging to the rail. He pulled his fingers from her, swept them up and down her slit, swirling around her clit as he lightly slapped the belt against her ass.

  It was too much. He knew it almost immediately as she bucked, let out a scream, and then slumped forward. She panted, trembled. Then little by little she came back to herself, shifting to look over her shoulder at him with wide eyes as she realized she’d disobeyed him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Natasha trembled and a blush rose in her anew. Her pants were down, ass was up in the air, and, oh hell, they were on his porch. How the hell did this keep happening to her?

  And, worse still, she hadn’t been able to stave off the orgasm that had been bearing down on her and now realization settled in, taking a hold of her.

  She couldn’t decipher the look he gave her, whether he was angry or what. She twisted, scrambling to pull up her pants. “I’m sorry—”

  “Did I tell you to dress?”

  Ice ran through her, freezing her in place. Her gaze darted from his eyes to the leather belt in his hand. Oh shit.

  “Did I tell you to dress?” he repeated.

  No, sir. That was what she was supposed to say, but she couldn’t make the words come out. All she knew was that she wanted to get into her car and the hell away from him.

  Saying nothing, instead she jerked up her panties and jeans anyway.

  Archer took a step toward her and she panicked, backing up, hitting the rail. As he reached for her, she screamed and grasped the railing, scrambled up and over it. She landed hard on the other side, her sneakers sinking into mud. The rail creaked behind her and she ran—ran before he could catch her as she knew he was following.

  She got just four steps toward her car, the rain soaking her almost immediately, when she slipped. The soles of her shoes kicked at the soft grass and mud streaked across her pants as she scrambled up. She’d barely gotten to her feet before his hand latched onto her arm.

  A scream left her throat as she fought his vise-like grip. She slid in the mud as he pulled her back, yanked her into his arms. His hands grasped her wrists, held her facing him, and she couldn’t get away.

  “Apologize,” he barked.

  Shaking from the rain and fear, she stared up at him, blinking through water in her eyes. His dark, dark blue eyes met hers, held hers, seemed to communicate. He did nothing to her, said nothing, but gave her a meaningful look.

  She hadn’t said it yet, had she? Her own name, her safe word. Realization softened her expression and he nodded, waited. Gave her a chance to stop it.

  Say your name. Say your name and get the hell out of here.

  Natasha. It was so easy. One little word and all of it would end. But though the idea of getting in her car and driving back to town, of forgetting all about this, was quite appealing...she craved something else entirely.

  “I-I’m sorry. Sir.” Tash held her breath.

  Devin leaned closer, holding her gaze, his nose brushing hers. “Let go,” he whispered.

  Let go. Let go and be his, for this moment—let him bring her pleasure without worrying or stressing. Let go of her responsibilities and just feel.

  Natasha let out a breath, softening in his hands. “Yes, sir.” Weight seemed to lift from her shoulders as she accepted this, knew she had the power to stop things but that, despite all logic, she trusted him.

  He kissed her and she melted in to him, letting him take control of her. He pushed her hands together, and she felt the damp leather of his belt as he wrapped it around to lash her wrists.

  A thrill went through her at the feeling. Sure, she’d been cuffed as an unruly teen when arrested, but that was it. She’d never experienced this before, never felt the confining bite of being bound.

  He lifted her and her legs wrapped around his waist. She felt them moving but she didn’t look, just tipped her head back as his lips grazed her throat. The rain striking her face ceased and the porch creaked under his steps. The squeaky screen door sounded and moments later his boots echoed on hardwood. They slammed against the door inside the house, her body pinned and unable to move, and he kissed her hard again.

  He broke the kiss, eased her onto her feet. “You exist now for my pleasure,” he said against her lips.

  You’ll call me ‘sir’. And you’ll beg. And you’ll thank me when I make you come. “Yes,” she whispered. “Whatever you want, sir.”

  He stepped back and she went with him, then he put pressure on her shoulders, urging her down. She gave in, falling to her knees on the damp hardwood in front of him, eyelevel with his hidden erection.

  She bit her lip, looked purposely at the denim-covered shaft in front of her, then back up at him as rain rolled from her hairline into her eyes. Remember your role in this. “May I, sir?”

  He brushed the hair from her eyes, drew his thumb down across her lower lip. She kissed the tip, swirling her tongue around the end, until he withdrew it.

  “May you what?”

  “May I suck your cock, sir?” She blushed hard at the words, the feel of them coming from her mouth both foreign and arousing.

  Her bound hands remained clutched to her chest as she waited while he drew down the fly of his jeans. Her gaze moved back up his torso to flirt with his eyes a moment before sweeping down again—he wore another black T-shirt, and the rain had made it cling to his skin, showing every defined muscle. She long to see him, see all of him. But for now, she looked back straight ahead, watched as he pulled down the front of his jeans, then his boxers, and his full length was exposed to her.

  His cock seemed impossibly long and thick, powerful. He gripped her chin with one hand and tilted her head up, positioned the tip of his erection at her lips with the other.

  “Suck,” he said in a low, guttural voice as he fed his cock to her. “Now.”

  She opened her mouth and took him in, immediately running her tongue along the underside of his shaft. She surrendered to him, let him move his rigid length in and out of her mouth, enjoyed the pleasure she saw in his eyes. The logical part of her brain told her she should find this wrong, that she should feel devalued, used, embarrassed. But he’d given her bliss and now she wanted to give that to him, to watch his eyes go hazy with lust.

  She laved her tongue over the thick dome head of his cock, took the rest in as far as it could go. Her knees were cold, soaked through from kneeling on the ground, but the rest of her body was hot. Despite climaxing minutes ago, her pussy clenched, craving more. Both of his hands locked on her head, moving her until she wasn’t so much sucking his cock as he was fucking her mouth.

  He pulled out suddenly, kept her head at bay with one hand as he reached into his back pocket. A foil condom wrapper crinkled.

  Thank God, he was going to fuck her at last.

  Tash backed up, waiting, wiggling. The front of her jeans hung open and he’d have easy access to her. He knelt in front of her and gave her a brutal kiss. She didn’t care where they were, didn’t look around at the farmhouse foyer around them, nor did she hear the rain hammering against the windows or remember the grim gray day going on around them—everything disappeared but for him and his will.

  He pushed her onto her back, roughly pulled her jeans and underwear down, and settled between her thighs. Again he kissed her, holding her bound wrists over her head. She flexed her fingers, wishing she could tear at his T-shirt, feel him under her hands.

  Devin had no such impediment, freely roaming his hand between them to push up her shirt and claim her breast. She writhed beneath him as his cock ran up and down her slit, pushing against her clit and not entering her yet.

  “This time,” he nipped her lower lip, “you will be punished if you disobey.”

  “Yes.” She tipped her head back, her hips surging forward, encouraging him to enter her at last.

  He left her bound wrists over her head, reached down
with both hands and pushed her thighs open wider. Her eyes met his as he leaned over her. When he looked down, she looked down, seeing his cock sink into her waiting, accepting pussy at last.

  She bucked as his thumb drew circles around her clit, groaned as his mouth came down on her breast, sucking her nipple between his teeth. She still felt the sting from his belt on her ass and her entire body throbbed, both with exhaustion and excitement. The sensation was almost too much to bear.

  He set the pace immediately and all she could do was follow, obey. She lifted her hips to meet his every thrust, braced her feet on the slippery hardwood to give her purchase until he slung one knee over his arm, widening her more. The continued touch on her clit set fire to her veins and she breathed deeply, holding back, lest she anger him again. Floorboards were hard and unyielding at her back as he pounded between her legs, giving her no way to escape the onslaught even if she wanted to. One hand still over her mound, the other rubbing the stiffened peak of her nipple, Devin stared down at her.

  “You’re close?” he asked.

  She nodded then thought the better of it. “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ll wait.”

  Again, she nodded.

  He doubled his efforts, eliciting a cry of pleasure from her. It took all of her concentration to keep climax at bay even as warmth swelled and orgasm built. He was right over her, reading everything on her face, still thumbing her clit as he pistoned in and out of her.

  “Beg,” he commanded.

  She writhed, losing all sense of her mind completely and just let herself feel. “Please let me come, sir. Oh God, please.”

  “Now,” he whispered and like a switch had flipped, she came hard. Her pussy clenched around his cock and she screamed, writhing wildly beneath him as rapture flooded her system. He plunged into her repeatedly, unrelenting, his movements going more and more erratic until a groan swelled in his throat and he was right there with her, calling out his release.

  Drained, he slumped down on her, his face buried against her neck. Tash panted, her arms still thrust over her head, bound in his rainwater-slick leather belt. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think, just shut her eyes and let him cover her.