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Why is that so hot?
He lifts his arm, and my breath stutters in my chest as he brings his hand and the belt down on my ass, sending another streak of agonizing fire through my body, accompanied by just a little need.
I’ve officially lost my fucking mind if I’m actually enjoying this.
Over and over again, his belt connects with my ass, and despite the searing pain that engulfs my ass and thighs, my legs are shaking with need, and the ache in my core is almost to the point of being unbearable. I flinch when his huge palm touches my sore flesh, but then he rubs soothing circles on the battered skin, and I allow my body to relax into his touch.
“You took your punishment so well, love,” he murmurs. “But you’re not done just yet. There’s still some penance to pay.”
I throw a glare over my shoulder that only makes him chuckle.
“You’re cute when you pout, love, but it’s not going to save you this time.”
I’m about to ask what the hell he means when the leather of his belt touches my throat. He moves so quickly I can barely register what’s happening until it’s too late. The belt tightens around my neck until my airway is constricted and my breathing is shallow. And yet, for some reason, the move has my pussy aching even more than the punishment I just received. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Bishop notches the belt in the position he deems appropriate, and when I try to look over my shoulder at him, he tugs at the belt, cutting off my airway altogether. “You’re going to stay put while I use your pretty little cunt, and you’re not to come. If you fall over that edge without permission, believe me when I say you will not appreciate the consequences half as much as I do.”
My mouth drops open, but my lack of oxygen makes it impossible to argue with him, so I do the only thing I can do: I lean into the overbearing dominant man and his demands.
Fingers meet my wet pussy, and his low chuckle only makes it harder not to press my thighs together. “Does my little whore like being punished and choked by my belt?”
I open my mouth to deny it, but snap it shut again because it’s very fucking obvious any denial would be a lie, and I’m hardly in a position to pull the wool over his eyes.
His fingers dip to my entrance, and he shoves two in without hesitation, tearing a strangled scream from my throat. Between the way the skin of my ass flames, my breaths coming in short and rough from the belt secured around my throat, and the assault on my pussy, stars dance in my vision as I struggle to hold myself up.
He withdraws for long enough to notch himself at my entrance, and when he pushes forward, the stretch is so fucking delicious I can barely keep myself from falling over the edge he forbid me from tumbling over.
“I can feel you pulsing around me, Camilla. Don’t you dare fucking come,” he growls, but he clearly doesn’t realize that only brings me closer to release.
He tugs on the belt, dragging my body back against his, and the new angle drags a strangled cry from my throat and somehow brings me closer to the cusp he doesn’t want me to fall from. He wraps his other arm around my waist and ruts into me with wild abandon, taking everything he needs from me, and I’m just along for the ride.
“This fucking pussy is mine, Camilla. I took it first, and I’m going to fuck you every fucking day for the rest of my goddamn life.”
His grunted words fill my heart with something that has no right being there. Hope. Does he mean it when he says he sees me in his life for years to come? Or is it just the throes of passion that have the words falling from his mouth?
Doubt is quickly replaced with pain when Bishop’s hand comes down on my already stinging ass.
“I can feel your mind drifting away, love. I want all your focus here with me, on what I’m doing to you, on the way I’m using your perfect little cunt.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as tears gather in the corners. It’s too much. It’s all too fucking much. My release is a breath away, so close I can taste it, but I don’t know how to hold it at bay. I don’t know how to stop myself from tumbling into the abyss. And yet all I want to do is please him.
Every fiber of my being is desperate to obey him, and I don’t know how to swallow that as the strong, independent mafia queen my father taught me to be.
“Don’t come, love,” he growls in my ear.
“I can’t.” I force out the words despite the pressure around my throat.
“Camilla,” he warns.
I feel the moment my body reaches the point of no return, and I’m powerless to pull myself back from the ledge. And yet as I begin to free fall, Bishop pulls out, his cock slipping from my soaking wet heat and leaving me impossibly empty.
“What the?—”
But before I can get the words out, I hear the unmistakable sound of him stroking his cock in rough pumps, and a second later, the warmth of his release lands across my ass in hot sticky ropes, and a guttural roar fills the empty lot.
Did he really just come all over me?
For long seconds, the only sound around us is our rough breathing, mine labored from the leather still constricting my airway, but Bishop doesn’t seem like he’s in a hurry to release the belt.
