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He clapped his hand over her mouth, muffling her cry as he shoved his finger up inside her ass.
“Is this the more you want?” he demanded, thrusting in deep and grinding his hips until the shock of the newness had faded enough for her to once more want to match his movements. “There’s my good girl. Ride my cock, princess.”
Letting go of her hands and hair, he caught her by the ass, working a second finger into her while she wiggled and bounced, trying to find a rhythm strong enough to match her need. Every in and out glide of his cock felt better than before, tighter. The pressure of his fingers opening her up from behind so foreign, the pinch of discomfort when he pushed his fingers deep and pried her ass cheeks wider apart felt good, too.
“You like that?” Christian laughed, a husky, guttural sound. “You like my finger in your ass?”
“Yes!” Her body flushed with the mortification of knowing she did, and her pussy released a gush of hot arousal, filling the small bathroom with the sloppy wet slapping of his cock spanking her greedy pussy. “Yes… Christian, please…”
The rippling spasms of orgasm shot through her sex to her womb, rocking her with wave after intensely pleasurable wave until she could no longer make herself move to the thrusts of his cock. She locked up, frozen in the grip of the spasms that wracked her, the sharpness worse when he suddenly pulled out of her.
Pulling her off the counter, he bent her back over it. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look at their reflections in the mirror. Gripping his jutting cock in his hand, he stroked along the seam of her pussy, teasing but not entering.
“Who owns your pussy, Princess?”
The peaks of her nipples thrust hard as diamond tips.
“You,” she moaned.
He slammed inside her. She braced her hands against the mirror, pushing back into his thrusts to keep from banging her head. The intensity was already there, building up inside her again, making her legs shake with the impending force about to tear through her.
“Who owns this ass?”
She threw her head back when his thumb invaded her the way his fingers had.
“You!” she mewed, trying desperately not to cry out.
“I should spank you right here and now, shouldn’t I?” he demanded, his laugh little more than a breath as he rode her. “Let everyone out there know who you belong to. Who you listen to, who you obey. Whose cock you bow to, and who has the authority to bring you to tears when you’ve been disobedient.”
She squeaked, feeling the loss of his cock when he abruptly pulled out of her so keenly, she almost cried.
Picking a sheet off the floor, he wadded it into a tight ball and dropped it on the counter in front of her, then held her gaze in the mirror.
“Consider this a warning,” he sternly told her. “The next time you want to waste your breath, telling me how useless you are, I won’t care where we are or who might be close enough to hear or even that you already have marks on your back. I will put you over my knee, and I will bust your ass before I punish it the way I’m going to punish you right now. Bite the sheet, princess. This might hurt a little, but nowhere near as much or as deeply as what you said hurts us both.”
“B-But?—”
“Bite,” he ordered.
Hugging the wadded-up sheet tightly, she buried her face and the shrillness of the cry she couldn’t quite bite back when he fit his cock to her back passage and relentlessly pushed his way inside. He used spit and her own fluid to lubricate her, neither of which lasted very long. But then, neither did he, much to her relief.
His hips spanked her bottom, his cock battering her insides until, with a handful of harder than normal thrusts, he stiffened with a grunt, and she felt the hot gush of fluid spilling inside her.
That second orgasm still hovered inside her, teasing her with how close she was to falling into its unrealized grip if only he’d take her clit into his hand again.
Except he didn’t, and not because he didn’t know the rawness of the need he’d brought her to the brink of before abandoning it. He cleaned himself, then her.
“If you come without my touch or without my permission, you won’t sit for a week. I’m the one who decides if you come or not. Am I clear?”
She groaned, then scowled. “Yes,” she sulked, using the sheet he’d given her to cover up again.
The phone came to life a second time, vibrating in the basin of the sink, where they must have knocked it, but she ignored it.
“Look at me.”
Frowning, she did.
“One way or another,” he promised, “it’s going to be okay.”
