"Yes sir," I said softly, stepping forward and straddling it. As much as I could anyway. Positioning my body near the end, leg on each side and lowering. There were a few key differences. I'd been clothed then. And even though I'd imagined what it'd be like to ease my body forward until it was flush against the bench and feel him beside me, fantasy paled in comparison to reality.
The strokes lengthened, his path angling toward my bottom until his fingers drew up the rounded curve, kneading it and making me squirm.
"Are you ready?"
I must have said ‘yes sir’ because there would have been repercussions if I hadn't. I was in a daze, lowering myself on the bench.
I strained my neck, fingertips millimeters from the pavement. Tingling. I was completely exposed but I wasn’t thinking about any eyes that could be pointed in our direction. The little voice in my head whispered that my zen at being na**d on a bench on the patio was because no one could see me. And if they could, all I could see was the cement.
But it was more than that. I trusted Jacob. And even though I was still coming to terms with the part of me that seemed to love pushing the envelope, doing things that would make the old vanilla part of me blush, it was the fact that I was listening to that side that made me smile. My dark, kinky side. The piece of me that was counting down the seconds, aching for him to spank me.
“Do I need to get restraints?”
“No sir,” I said without hesitation. I would lie there and take it. I wasn’t gonna run. Not that I would get very far anyway since the railing was only a few inches away.
“Good girl,” he said huskily. I shivered when his hand rested on my lower back, pleasure vibrating through me. “You will count...and use your color if you need it.”
The hand was creeping downward, cupping my cheeks and my eyes rolled back in my head. We hadn’t even gotten to the main event and already I felt like I could come on the spot. The hand tightened, a piece of flesh blooming as pain snapped me from my daze.
“Are you listening?” he asked sternly.
Uh oh. “No sir.” I clenched my fists as the pinch intensified, grounding me.
“Don’t let that happen again,” he admonished me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my body tensing. “I’m sorry.” As soon as ‘sorry’ dropped from my lips he released me and traded the pinch for tender strokes.
“Are you ready to begin?”
I relaxed my fists, fingers spreading out. Trembling with anticipation. “Yes sir.”
The first strike was a whisper, lust curling around me, its slice making my core weep. “One.”
I drew a shaky breath as the second landed, any fog officially cleared as my bottom tingled.
“Three.” The tickle became a sting, pinpricks lighting along the surface.
Four spread them, making me bite my lip.
Five...well, five showed me that this was no game at all. I felt every inch of his hand throbbing against my skin, even after he retracted.
Six and I bit down on my lip, connecting the pain on my behind with the new slice of it that clutched my lip.
Seven and my mouth was open, a silent cry echoing through me. I felt his need to release, to take me to the edge with every strike.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
I wanted to hold on, to surrender to the bliss of pain; that moment where the two stark emotions bled into one another. Between my legs I knew I could go there and beyond. I was already spiraling out of control, my cl**ax a word away. But the rest of me was on fire.
“Yellow,” I said hoarsely when we hit seventeen. Louder. “Yellow.”
Eighteen didn’t come and when I heard his footsteps retreat I almost leapt up and told him that I took it back. I missed it. I felt like that was crazy, the rational, thinking part of me wondered what screw was loose that made me entertain the thought of him coming back and wailing on me until I went numb. To abandon everything but the count. To focus on nothing except us. But I didn’t move from the bench, using the moments to breathe, to stretch out my fingers and toes.
His feet reappeared beside me, a finger stroking a curl before I heard the click sound of a top being flipped.
“This may be cold.”
I sucked in a breath behind my teeth as I felt the chill of the medicated lotion, the stuff tingling as it warmed, smoothing away the last tendrils of pain. He bent down beside me, his face level to mine. Blue eyes searched me, the concern making me smile.
“You alright?” My smile broadened just as a tear sprung free and he leaned forward, cupping my cheek as he paled. “God, Leila if it was too much you should have--”
I shook my head adamantly. “It wasn’t. I used it when I needed to.” I felt my ni**les aching, the place inside me unfulfilled. “In fact, I, uh...”
His fingers drew to my chin, thumb sweeping across my bottom lip. “You want more, huh?”
I clenched between my legs, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes sir.”
He smirked, his eyes dark with mischief. “You are insatiable, Leila Montgomery.”
I bat my eyelashes at him boldly. “Have you seen yourself lately? I didn’t stand a chance.”
He stood up, gesturing for me to join him. My limbs should have felt like jello but I was so into him, into feeling him that I practically leapt to my feet, feeling sure. Confident. How could I not be with him looking at me that way?
“For curiosity's sake, if I let you take the reins, what would be next?”
My eyes darted to his groin then back up before I asked him coyly, “May I show you?”
“By all means.”
I reached forward, slowly pulling his belt loose and holding onto his heated gaze as I pulled down the zipper. I slid my hand inside his boxers, moaning behind my lips when I gripped him, hand barely able to fit around the engorged bulge. His jaw tightened, still fighting to maintain control but when I started sliding up and down the shaft, his mouth opened as he looked down at me, a low moan hanging in the space between us.
“I want to take you in my mouth,” I said softly.
His lips trembled but his voice was steady and authoritative. Just like I liked it.
“Then get on your knees.”
I lowered my body slowly, bringing his pants with me. They pooled at his feet and he stepped out of them, offering me some barrier between my knees and the cement. Not that I would have felt discomfort. I was focused on nothing other than the way he twitched and throbbed in my hand.
I took him firmly in one hand and leaned forward, tongue dancing over the slit, the velvety taste of him coating my tongue. I let my tongue roam around the mushroom tip, lingering when his muscles flexed and his c**k thumped in approval. I brought my other hand to the base of him, pumping in tandem with my mouth. His hand knotted in my hair as he drug me up and down the length. His grip reminded me that even though he was wildly thrusting his hips, a slave to my mouth, he was still running things.