Free Mr. Sir (Ball & Chain) by Jayne Kingston

picked her up in his arms and carried her to the chair in the corner. He sat, draping her legs over one arm while resting her upper body on the other.
    “The room is tits,” she told him, shifting her hips as she settled in his lap without sitting directly on her tender bottom.
    “ You are tits,” he said with a laugh, kissing her gently when she angled her face toward his.
    He let one hand rest gently on her ass while the other cradled her head. Her arms came up around his neck and gripped him tight. He could tell she was going to come back with a vengeance when she returned from whatever realm she went to when she went deep. He braced himself.
     
    A fireball burst through her entire body as her head dropped back into reality. She could feel his long, thick cock against her side. That combined with the dreamy way he was kissing her was the equivalent of pouring gasoline into a bonfire. She wasn’t going to be able to get him inside her fast enough.
    He practically lifted her in the air himself when she started to shift so she was straddling him, her unsteady hands fumbling with the zipper of his unbuttoned jeans. He sucked in a sharp breath as she clutched his incredibly hard cock and angled herself over him while he attempted to wriggle his jeans down his hips.
    The sound of the groan that rumbled up out of his chest tore through her as she touched his hot, swollen head to her cunt and sat down hard. The first jolt of her orgasm caused her back to arch and her hips to grind down on him. She braced her hands on his shoulders, raised herself up on wobbly legs, and lost her fucking mind.
    She could hear herself calling out his name as she rode him wildly, crest after teeth-jarring crest crashing through her from where he filled her to impossibly full outward. His grunts and gasps, equally as desperate as hers, filled her ears, electrifying the tips of her fingers and burning through her nipples, her clit.
    And when she didn’t think she could take any more, he gripped her hips and fucked wildly up into her, pushing her farther over the edge of bliss than she ever thought possible as he came with a gloriously primal growl.
    She collapsed against his chest even as he continued to pulse and throb inside her. She pressed her lips to his sweaty neck, touched her tongue to his salty skin, breathed in the heady smell their bodies made together. Eventually he went completely slack beneath her, panting for breath, their bodies still connected.
    “Fucking hell, Grace,” he said after a very long time. “I hate to say we should wait a year again, but maybe we should wait a year again.”
    She smiled into the curve of his shoulder.
    “I still can’t feel my toes,” he added, stroking her bottom lightly.
    She winced. Then she thumped his shoulder with her fist and sat up.
    “The whip was a dirty trick,” she scolded, and thumped him again.
    He laughed, then dropped into his stern face. “The whip was long overdue.” He touched his fingers, still full of the unmistakable smell of her arousal, to her lip just under her nose.
    Remarkably, her body sprang to life instantly.
    “Tell me not to use it again and I won’t.” He slipped two fingers into her mouth.
    She sucked and his eyes flashed dark.
    “That’s what I thought,” he said, smirking as his cock, which hadn’t yet gone soft, jerked within her. “You want to take this upstairs like normal people?”
    She angled her head back until his fingers almost slipped free, then sucked them back in and shook her head.
    “Did I tell you the builder who custom-made that table asked for my specific leg measurements?” he asked conversationally, taking his fingers out of her mouth.
    “You didn’t,” she answered, wrapping her arms around his neck as he shifted toward the edge of the chair.
    “Well, I did. And do you know what that means?” he asked, getting his arms under her as he stood with her clinging to him.
    “I really don’t.” She knew full well where he was