Free Hard by Cheryl McIntyre, Dawn Decker Page B

on a moan.
    “Oh, my God,” I pant. It’s an unexpectedly sensual feeling. Yet another first for me. Keeping my body still is horribly difficult. I want to push back into him. I want to crawl away. Fuck, I want more .
    He pushes two of his thick, long fingers into my pussy, rolling them, and I don’t know how much more I can take. It’s sensory overload. My legs go weak, but I am forced to stay on my feet, bound as I am. I lean a little further, allowing my upper half to take most of my weight on the bed.
    Jensen pulls back, his mouth and fingers leaving me. I think I hear the slap before I actually feel it. It could be that I’m just too shocked to register that he actually hit me. The sting sets in, red hot on my bare ass. Before I can react, his tongue is there, gliding over the burn. He blows across my skin, instantly cooling it. Goose bumps prickle my flesh and I shiver.
    “I said not to move,” he utters, and I swear I hear regret in his voice. He steps away and my eyes pool with unwanted moisture beneath my blindfold, more of a knee-jerk reaction than from any real distress. I track him by his footsteps. The sound of the latches on his camera case hit me and I comprehend that probably wasn’t remorse I heard in his tone.
    “I wish you could see how incredible my handprint looks on you. Like a tattoo or a brand…” He lets his words float between us, the soft click of his camera the only noise in the otherwise quiet room. He circles the bed several times and I remain motionless.
    “So beautiful.”
    I hear the metal teeth release on his zipper. Hear the soft rustle of his jeans hitting the floor. I expect him to drive into me from behind, but Jensen hasn’t once done what I expect. Something cool and wet trickles through the rope and over my wrist. Then the other. The tangy scent of wine fills the air. I’m confused, unsure why he would pour wine on the cords binding me.
    But he always has a motive.
    “That should hold you in place,” he murmurs close to my ear.
    An exhilarated rush tingles down my spine as I feel the restraints around my wrists tightening. Slowly but surely, squeezing pleasingly. I realize he was in complete control of this entire situation. Of me. Pulling my strings like a puppet. Purposely leaving enough give on the ropes and doing something he knew I would react to. Despite what he says, he wanted me to move. Wanted to punish me. Spank me. Even bringing my wine into the room was calculated, knowing he would use it to expand the rope.
    I should probably be scared. Most other women perhaps would be.
    But I’m not like other women.
    Jensen’s breath tickles my neck. “Are you ready for me?” The head of his cock teases my entrance, rubbing up and down, sliding through my arousal.
    “Yes,” I breathe. “I’m ready for you.”

 
    19
    Jensen
     
    I dig my fingers into her hip as I slowly push inside of her from behind. My other hand covers the still lingering raised red print on her ass cheek. It’s hot to the touch. A mix of pride and shame battle inside my chest. I like leaving my mark on her. Worship seeing the glow of my hand on her supple skin. Feeling the swollen, inflamed flesh. Claiming what is mine. I adore it. God help me. I fucking love it .
    At the same time, I can’t stop replaying the way her body jolted and trembled under my palm. I was too rough. I hit her too hard. Much harsher than I intended to. Her mouth opened on a shocked, silent cry of pain and the realization of what I did struck me. The truly fucked up part is that I want to do it again. I want matching prints burning her perfectly round ass. I want her thinking of me every time she sits down.
    I want her thinking of me always.
    My head falls forward as I thrust my hips deep. I watch myself slide in and out of her, my cock glistening with her sweet juices. She’s always so wet for me. So responsive.
    Keeping one hand on her hip for leverage, I glide my other around, my fingers finding her clit. I rub