Authors: Alyssa Brooks
“What are those?” Was that really her speaking, voice confident, face flaming?
He stood behind her, barely an inch away, but not touching. “Anal plugs. Enhances a woman’s pleasure…and gets her ready in the event a man wants to enter her there.”
So bold.
So matter-of-fact, straight out of her best friend’s mouth.
Anal toys.
Anal
sex
.
Kim’s heart took up residence in her ears, drumming away. “Okay,” she barely managed.
Swallowing, she looked on.
Second shelf.
Five sets of various nipple clamps—those she recognized. There were a couple made of plastic, a few that looked more like jewelry and something else that looked like nipple clamps except the pins were attached by short wires attached to some sort of remote box.
“Electrocution?”
That shouldn’t turn her on. No. Uh-uh. She should be scared.
But curiosity blazed and her nipples pebbled almost painfully against the lace of her bra as he chuckled.
“No, sweetie.
Vibration.”
“Oh.” Was she disappointed? Definitely no… But realizing she would’ve let this man shock her—could actually be turned-on at the prospect—she knew she trusted him to bring her pleasure.
Completely.
Even as her pounding heart took over her body and her mind scrambled to grasp it all.
Reaching past her, he motioned to the tiny vise grips. “They’re sex clamps. These babies can fasten
anywhere
on your body. The remote makes
them
vibrate.
Very pleasurable for a woman.
Makes her come.
Fast.”
“Wow.” Kim could believe that…she felt as if she were about to climax just looking at them and listening to Jackson’s smooth, velvety explanation.
Third shelf.
A fur-lined paddle.
Another sans fur with holes drilled out in the shape of a heart. Then one lined with sleek leather and a flogger, this one
not
made of leather but some sort of rope that shone like silk.
More, farther back, she couldn’t even see. “You have a lot of paddles.”
“My favorite toy.
Even above the clamp.”
You know, I could spank you for how you’ve acted tonight.
Her arousal soared. Her pussy creamed. And in that moment, Kim learned something shocking about herself. Apparently, BDSM turned her on. “Okay,” she confirmed out loud, more to herself than him.
Fourth shelf.
Handcuffs made of the same sleek roping.
Neatly packaged restraints.
Fifth shelf.
A triangle-shaped pillow she imagined was for lying over.
Tied up.
While he spanked her.
Kim trembled as Jackson stepped behind her, his nose and lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “Still think you want me? Think you can handle me?”
How could her whole perception of him have been so altered in less than five minutes?
Unable to speak, Kim nodded. Yes, she wanted him. Yes, she wanted him
this
way, spanking included. More than she’d ever wanted anything, ever.
And yes, she supposed, if she could handle scaling a four-hundred-foot rock wall or flipping her four-wheeler in the pouring rain or catching a baseball with her bare hands, she could handle a little sport in the bedroom.
She found her voice, in the form of a frog. “Piece of cake,” she croaked.
“If you’re hungry.”
A groan—practically a growl—tore from his throat…in delight?
In frustration?
She supposed she was about to find out.
Hungry?
More like starved.
Kimmy’s
advances had ignited a burning hole in him, one that demanded to be filled. That twisted his soul.
Had he really convinced himself she’d take a look at his closet and call it quits?
Of course not.
Nothing short of an earthquake gashing directly between them would scare stubborn
Kimmy
away. Not when her mind was set. How it’d set on him, he had no idea. “You should’ve let things be,
Kimmy
. We were
happy
.”
But so be it. He damn well wasn’t going to play nice tonight though, not when she was destroying their perfect friendship.
In the lamp’s golden glow, he undid those two pathetic buttons holding his shirt on her and slid it from her body to the floor. His fingers trembled as they trailed over the tanned flesh of her shoulder and back, and he took that seductively golden bra and popped free the hooks, letting it drop away. His hands searched out the plentiful breasts that glimpses of had taunted him for years. Not to mention all damn day.
His
Kimmy
.
So good.
So sweet.
So safe.
“We.
Were.
Happy
.” Now nothing would ever be the same.
“Liar.
We’ve both been agonizing. I see the way you look at me. It’s obvious.”
Damn her.
Her moan filled the air as he cupped the supple mounds roughly, flattening them with his palms.
Massaging.
Exploring.
Budded nipples sprung under his fingers, her flesh gave way to his demands. She leaned into him, inviting, “More!”
“Oh, you think?” Really believed she knew what she was getting into, didn’t she?
To test her, he pinched the tight buds, and her reaction—a cry of pleasure, followed by a quick tensing—was all the proof he needed. This girl, once untouchable, was all his. Any way he’d have her, clay in his quaking hands. How could this be happening?
He pinched again, harder, and she
mewed
delight.
Jackson could have held her there like that, playing forever. So soft and sweet and whimpering her willingness despite the pain-laced plucks he applied. But his cock had other plans in mind.
His cock demanded what it had wanted and been denied too many years to count. Of that she was right about…but it didn’t mean he had to like it.
Or be nice about it. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
About the sex.
About what would happen to them
afterward.
Perfection destroyed.
Skidding blunt fingers over the flat of her belly, Jackson bent at the knee, his face butt level—damn, how she smelled like sex—as he fished Japanese silk rope handcuffs from the fourth shelf down. Sliding the openings over graceful fingers, he pulled her hands behind her back and jerked them tight by way of the wedge in the middle, securing her.
His fingers fluttered there, at that binding, hesitant.
This was
Kimmy
…
Deep down, he knew he didn’t need to do this. He could just take her, thrust into that juicy cunt and drive them both into oblivion. Make love.
Love.
The prospect whispered to him, all light and feathery, like the urging of an angel.
But Jackson had never
made love
to anyone, ever, in his whole life. He fucked.
Hot with anger for wanting what could only destroy, for her forcing this onto him, Jackson knotted his grasp around those handcuffs and wrenched her around, shoving her several steps then hurling her facedown on the bed. “You know what,
Kimmy
?”
“What?” She bounced with a gleeful cry, much like she was enjoying his rough ways already—
damn her—
and
Jackson, control a thin thread, caught the zipper at the back of her skirt and dragged it from her body, over shapely legs.
Her thong followed suit, cast somewhere behind him. “You want this so bad. You’re damn well going to
pay
for it.”
Before he knew what she was about,
Kimmy
tucked her knees under her belly, face flat to the mattress as she wagged that sweet round ass, and cooed, “
Ohhh
…still plan to spank me, Sir?”
“Absolutely.
And then some.” More than she bargained for, he guaranteed that, and did she ever deserve it. Dancing like that.
Acting like this.
Inviting him to spank her as boldly as she demanded sex.
Pushing him off the edge when he’d tiptoed along it so carefully for years.
Kimmy
knew
he didn’t want a serious relationship, had no plans for love in his future.
Damn her for doing this. Now there was no going back.
Spank her? Just for starters!
Suddenly Jackson was overwhelmed with the desire to punish her. With a fierce growl, he tore himself from his mesmerized state above her and returned to his closet, rummaging his spanking shelf for just the right paddle.
One lined with fur. Another smooth plastic one, cool to the touch with holes drilled out.
His flogger.
Nope, nope and nope.
And then Jackson’s fingers encountered a narrow handle buried in the back. On a whim he’d had it personalized from some online specialty shop years ago but had never quite been moved enough by any woman to use it.
His Jackson paddle. Two inches wide, his name cut from black leather. When he spanked her,
Jackson
would be imprinted on her behind.
Jackson, Jackson, Jackson…
branded in red all over those sexy, curved pale flanks.
Snagging a set of nipple clamps and his sex clamp because,
dammit
, he intended to
punish
her thoroughly—with orgasms—he practically leaped from the closet to the bed, far too eager to deliver the first blow as he crawled on the mattress behind her and let his arm rip, smacking down sharply on creamy-white flesh.
Beneath him, she cried out, reared up, incentive for him to drop those clamps, push her down and
slap
the paddle down smartly a second time.
“Yup.
You want this,” he reminded, drinking in the sight of his name—barely readable, but his name all the same—crimson on her behind. “And you’re going to get it.”
Jackson.
Nothing had ever been hotter than the sight of that. Nothing ever sent Jackson over the edge so swiftly, so suddenly. All control was lost.
With his other hand, he dipped into her wet cunt and searched out her entrance, thrusting four fingers far inside her. She bellowed as her body welcomed him easily, and he drove those digits deep.
Hard.
Fast.
“Happy now,
Kimmy
?”
Thrust, thrust.
Smack, smack!
“
This what
you wanted?
You’ve ruined us.
”
When she didn’t answer right away, he snagged the arms bound at her back and hurled her over. Straddling her waist, his blind hands searched out those nipple clamps, finding them quickly.
Taking her left nipple between his fingers, he tweaked and rolled the pebbled bud until he was certain it would harden no further. Then he slid the
latexed
end of the
tweezer
clamp over her nipple, drawing the circle at the end to tighten its grasp.
“Oh!” The heat in that coffee-colored gaze inviting more,
Kimmy
arched her back, already bowed from lying on her cuffed hands.
“Still so sure,
Kimmy
?” he dared her. “Still want this?”
Testing his boundaries, he tightened the clamp just slightly more and
Kimmy
sucked in a
whistlely
gasp, biting her lower lip as she shouted, “Yes!” and he knew he’d hit the spot.
Silently, Jackson applied the same treatment to the second nipple and adored how her whole body went stiff, intense with arousal as he climbed off and rolled her back over, positioning her face to the mattress and her butt in the air, quickly regaining the paddle and thrusting his fingers inside her.
Smack, smack, smack!
Her cries rent the air, but he wasn’t gentle, wouldn’t be, because he had a point to prove. “
Kimmy
wants this.”
Smack, smack, smack!
She could tell him to stop at any time. He’d welcome nothing more, though his painfully hard cock might turn him blue for it.
Jackson, Jackson, Jackson!
Along her upper thighs.
Across those round globes.
Fleshy hips.
Smack, smack, smack!
Red slashed in crisscross patterns and she whimpered and cried out, again and again, rearing against his fucking fingers, scrambling away from his blows.
Punished.
Just as she deserved.
“Still happy,
Kimmy
?” he demanded with the harsh slash of that paddle. His hand plundered, pushing inside, spreading her wide.
“Still sure?”
Smack! Smack, smack, smack!
Leather bit into her and her response, however inane, came automatic. “Very!” she ground out, jaw clenched.
Very.
Kim had never known such exquisite pain could exist. Never had a man touched her, used her this way. Never had she even ventured to fantasize over such things…
But she liked it.
Her nipples were so tight, pinched and dancing with tingly pricks, and brushing across the comforter as her breasts dangled. Her ass was on fire, her cunt creamy with desire, pulsing with need so intense she was sure she’d die from wanting.
Simultaneously, she squeezed both fists secured at her back and her pussy muscles around his fingers, grasping for control of herself.
“More, Jackson!”
If this is what he was, then she could never get enough. Spank her silly. Kim loved
him
and she loved this.
“More,” he pulverized the word between gnashed teeth.
“That so?”
And then he was gone, her request somehow having driven him away, and Kim wanted nothing more than to take it back.
“Jackson?” Without him there, the air around her flaming butt felt oddly cold, her pussy miserably empty.
Abandoned.
“Jackson?”
She listened to him rummaging, knew he was in the closet, but she couldn’t move.
Was paralyzed by her desire.