Fortune by Annabel Joseph (ebook reader for comics TXT) 📕

his touch and wondered why it didn’t scare her. Perhaps it wasn’t anger, only need. She knew she needed him. She helped him pull off her tights with trembling fingers, let him unhook her bra and toss it behind her. She had on skimpy panties—she heard the seam rip as he shoved his hand down the waistband and grabbed her ass, cupping and squeezing it with rough urgency. It was still sore from… Was it just last night he’d spanked her? With a soft grunt, he tore off the filmy panties, tossing them somewhere over by her bra. He slapped her ass hard and she cried out, more from arousal than the sting. He slapped her again and she pressed closer to him, grasped at him, whining into the hollow of his neck. He nudged her head back and kissed her with voracious, focused intent even as he slapped her ass a third time. She moaned into his mouth as dull throbbing heat spread across her ass cheeks and down to the center between her legs. She wanted to cry out Fuck me! Take me! But she knew instinctively that he would not appreciate orders from her, especially not in his current mood.

He drew away from her with another low sound of pent-up frustration. “Go. Go lie on the bed. On your back. Arms over your head.”

His words barely registered and yet her body moved to do just as he asked. No, not asked. Required. He kicked off his sweatpants and looked back at her watching him. She was afraid of what he might do to her, but she couldn’t have left for anything. He opened a drawer and rooted around in the low light, producing a pair of thick leather cuffs. He strode back to the bed and she stared at the sight of him. He was all force and strength, his abs contracting, his arms poised at his side, arms Kat believed could hold up the earth if they had to. He crawled onto the bed, knelt beside her and pulled her hands up hard above her so she felt manhandled. He buckled the cuffs on with a quickness and ease born of experience and hooked them behind one of the spindles on the headboard of his bed.

“Oh,” she sighed.

He looked down at her. “Oh, what? Too tight? Do they feel okay?”

“I think I’m going to die.” Silly words. But honestly, how else to describe it? Her pussy felt alive with need, aching for him. Her whole body pulsed. She pulled at the restraints as he watched her, then turned her hips to one side in a defensive—or perhaps desperate—movement. He reached down, his eyes black in the soft light, and thrust two fingers roughly up inside her. She was so wet, so wet. What must he think? He smiled down at her, a knowing grin.

“I’ve half a mind to leave you this way. This is fun to watch. And I think you deserve it.”

Her breath caught in her throat. He couldn’t be so cruel. “Please!”

“You and your never-ending ‘pleases’. All they mean is give me what I want.”

“No. I mean, yes. I want you. But please… Sir…what do you want? I’ll give you anything.”

He laughed and knelt over her, straddling her. He brought his fingers to her mouth, soaked with her feminine essence. “Anything? Suck,” he said softly. “Suck my fingers clean, then suck my cock.”

She tasted herself, her own arousal and need on his broad fingers. He leaned forward and guided his cock to her mouth, leaning over her so she was trapped, impaled. He felt so thick, so hard between her lips. She licked around the velvety tip, exploring the rigid contours. When he moved deeper into her, her mouth was wet and ready. She realized she had salivated for him, eager to take his length.

“Open your eyes.”

She looked up, opened her eyes and peered up at the man who subdued her, who was staring down at her while he eased his cock in and out of her mouth. He looked feral for a moment. Terrifying. Her hands moved in the rough cuffs, made fists and twisted in a small panic. Then he whispered, “Good girl.”

He withdrew from her slowly. Her mouth still waited, open, feeling empty. He leaned down and kissed her hard, his tongue now pressing into her mouth. He licked her lips, groaned softly against her as her hips rose up to contact his cock wedged between them. With a stifled curse he tore himself away and lunged for the bedside drawer. He ripped open the condom and rolled on the latex barrier, then shoved her legs apart, wide, wider, until she squeaked. He slapped her between the legs, on the inside of each thigh. It was pain, but desperate, abject pleasure. She needed to be filled by him. The emptiness inside her was at its peak. The sensation, the slaps, the pinches, the strokes had built to an unbearable, insupportable tension.

“Please,” she whispered. Please, a million times.

He pulled her knees up, spreading her wider, pulling her down against her bonds. He sat back on his heels so his cock jutted up between them, nestled at her entrance. He looked down at her then, a predator going for the kill. She wanted to look away it was so frightening, but she didn’t dare. He dropped his hips and squeezed her thighs and thrust inside her, his size a pressing, invading ache. She burst into tears, not from pain or fear, but relief. She was going to come in seconds, mere moments. She looked up at him, frantic, and he nodded down at her. “Go,” he said. “Go on. I’ve got you.”

She came apart. She shattered, she shimmered. She convulsed and lost herself in an orgasm that turned her upside down. He just watched her with a faint victorious smile, amused affection. Then he fell over her, pumped in her hard so her cuffs rattled against the headboard. His knees drove into the