“Come here, Skittle,”
I turn and face him and do as he asks, moving so my breasts graze his chest when I inhale.
“Remove my tie.” His voice is quiet as he stares down at me, waiting for me to protest, but I don’t.
I reach up and slowly loosen the deep purple tie, sliding it free from his collar before handing it to him. He takes it with a smirk before walking around to stand behind me.
“Hands behind your back, Skittle,” he prompts.
I flush, knowing exactly where this is going. I'm so turned on I can feel my arousal starting to run down my inner thighs. I cross my wrists behind my back and feel him use his tie to bind them together. Not tight enough to hurt but enough to prevent me from getting free.
Walking back around me, he trails his fingers over the curve of my hip and up over my ribs before cupping my breasts with both hands. I moan and arch my back, pushing them more fully into his hands, but he just tweaks my nipples before stepping away and sitting on the sofa to the left of us.
He leans back and watches me silently, his eyes moving seductively over my body as if deciding where to start next. By the time his eyes meet mine, I'm a hot, panting mess.
The sound of the doorbell ringing has me freezing for a moment before turning to look at the door and moving to take a step back.
“Don't move, Skittle. Not one single step. If you move, I won't let you come tonight,” he warns me.
I frown. That does not sound like fun.
He gets up from the sofa and walks unhurriedly over to the door, making my heart almost beat out of my chest.
He wouldn't, would he? Fuck, he would.
Pulling the door open, he greets the delivery person while standing in such a way that I'm blocked from view. Even so, if I move one step in either direction, they will be able to see me in my birthday suit. Talk about leaving a tip.
It takes every ounce of strength I have not to make a move to cover myself. Somehow, I manage it and when Asher closes the door and turns to face me a moment later, I release a huge sigh of relief.
“Good girl, Skittle. I think you deserve a reward, don't you?
“Yes, sir,” I reply hastily, making him jolt at my words, and I don't miss the way his cock twitches in his pants.
Oh, he likes being called sir.
“Kneel on the floor beside the sofa.” He points to the place he wants me, so I do as he asks, hoping he hurries with this reward because I'm dying over here.
I watch as he plates up food and scowl. If he thinks he’s going to eat that in front of me, he is sadly mistaken.
He walks over to the sofa and reassumes his spot, picking up a piece of crispy chicken with a pair of chopsticks and sliding it into his mouth.
“Hmm...so good,” he moans.
I almost call him on it but then wonder if this is some kind of test, so I sit patiently for a moment, silently plotting his death.
“Open up, Skittle,” he orders, lifting a piece of chicken to my lips.
Thank fuck.
I open up and moan when the spicy taste explodes on my tongue.
“Good girl,” he praises as we sit in silence, him sharing the food off his plate, feeding me morsel after morsel while checking out my naked body.
I fight the urge to squirm, but I swear if he keeps looking at me like that, I'm going to orgasm before we ever get to the good stuff.
Finally, when we’ve finished, Asher stands and walks over to the counter, placing the empty plate on top of it before turning to face me once more. Standing on the spot, acting like he has all the time in the world, he watches me as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and rolls them up to his elbows. I don't take my eyes from him as he stalks toward me and then reoccupies his spot on the sofa. Leaning back, he slides the zipper of his pants down and looks at me, pulling out his rock-hard cock that is wet with pre-cum.
“Stand up and come here, Skittle. I want you on your knees, between my legs, with your lips wrapped around me. You don’t need your hands for this. Let's see how much you can take.”
Oh boy.
He splays his legs wide as I awkwardly climb to my feet and move toward him. Carefully, I lower myself to my knees between his thighs, the glint of approval in his eyes giving me the confidence to continue. Without taking my eyes from his, I swirl my tongue around the tip of his cock before leaning over, sliding him into my mouth with a groan. Fucking hell, I can feel my wetness coating my thighs. I don't know why this is turning me on so much, but it is. If my hands weren’t tied behind me right now, I would have slipped a hand between my legs and gotten myself off.
“Wider,” he commands with a growl.
I open my mouth as wide as I can and take him in farther.
“Yes, Skittle, just like that,” he hisses.
I hollow out my cheeks and slide him in and out of my mouth, over and over, focusing on the velvety steel feel of him.
“Stop,” he snaps, making me freeze, waiting to see what he wants me to do next.
“Stand up and bend over my legs.”
Sliding him from my mouth, I climb to my feet on wobbly legs, trying to figure out how to bend over him without face planting. I won’t be able to balance myself with my hands still tied behind me. He must sense my predicament because he grips my shoulder, bearing my weight and lowering me until my stomach is pressed flush to his thighs.
His warm palms smooth over the skin of my ass, lulling me into a false sense of security before smack, the sound rings out around the room. My gasp is just as loud. Before I can react, he rains down two more smacks in quick succession.
“How many did we say, Skittle?”
What? I'm struggling to remember my own name, and he wants me to remember something he said.
“Five?” I guess.
“Mmm… Now that's not quite right, is it? If I remember correctly, it's five for almost making me nearly spill our wine and five for being a naughty girl and forgetting your underwear. Maybe I should add five more for so easily forgetting,” he reprimands.
“No. I'm sorry, sir,” I apologize quickly.
“Is that so?” He mumbles before smacking the other check hard enough to make it sting.
“How many was that?” he asks, probably trying to catch me out.
“Four,” I croak out.
“Good girl, now count the rest.”
So I do, counting quietly, trying to keep my breathing even, but it's useless. Every time his hand makes contact, I feel myself growing wetter and wetter.
“Five, six, seven,” I pant as he smooths his hand over each cheek again, my skin burning underneath his palm.
Smack. “Eight.” Smack. “Nine.” Smack. “Ten,” I finish on a broken whisper, having reached my limits. I need him inside me now.
“Such a good girl,” he compliments me before sliding his hand down between my legs and pushing two fingers inside me. There’s no resistance. I'm so turned on that they slip inside me with ease.
“Jesus Christ, Skittle,” he snarls.
In the next instant, I find myself up and bent over the back of the sofa as he surges inside me. He doesn't give me time to adjust, he’s too far gone to think about anything except chasing his next high, and I'm all too happy to go along for the ride—the bite of pain bringing a whole new dimension to our lovemaking.
He thrusts inside me over and over, gripping my hips hard.