It lands on the exposed skin of her ass cheek, and she lurches forward with a squeal. Then she giggles. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. With great power comes great responsibility, Batman.”
I take my pants and boxers off in record time.
“Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I plan on satisfying every responsibility I have, again and again and again for good measure. Now get on the f**king bed.”
She does—on all fours. Her hair falls over one shoulder, and her eyes are on mine. Christ, look at her. All laid out—just for me—waiting.
I feel like a goddamn kid in a candy store.
The only question is: Where to start first? It’s always a fabulous conundrum. Every one of Kate’s assets are equally deserving of attention. Hell, even the backs of her knees are sexy.
I slide the velvet tip of the crop across her chest, between her br**sts, and down her stomach. I pause between her legs.
The beauty with this kind of tool is that the nerve endings rush to wherever it touches, making the skin hypersensitive. Taut—like an over-tuned guitar string just dying to get plucked.
Kate’s eyes close, and her head tilts back. I rub the crop over her pu**y, back and forth.
Then I smack it lightly.
And she gasps.
When I was ten, my parents got me a racing bike during the height of the BMX craze. I remember thinking at the time that it was the greatest gift I’d ever get.
Boy, was I a moron.
I lean closer to the bed, over her, and kiss a trail up Kate’s spine and around her neck.
I pull the gold bikini down from one plump tit and latch on.
Her nipple’s already a stiff pink peak, but I flick my tongue over it anyway. Kate moans. And lifts one hand to the back of my head.
I smack her ass with the riding crop. “Don’t move.”
Her hand snaps back to the bed.
This…submission. It’s not about degradation or humiliation—it’s about faith. Leaving yourself completely open, totally exposed. Offering everything you’ve got, everything you are, to someone else. Letting them see the real you, not just the person you want to be. Every sin, every fantasy, because you know they’ll never judge you. Never hurt you. Some people go their entire sorry lives without knowing what real trust is.
But I know.
I have it.
With Kate. Only ever with her.
I give her nipple one last lick and move on. I put the riding crop down and twist the vibrator on.
Then I move down to Kate’s ass. A bright red square marks one cheek. I soothe it with my mouth. And bring the buzzing bullet between her legs, moving in wide, slow circles—coming close to her clit but not actually touching it.
Anticipation, satisfaction—pleasure and pain—it’s a delicate balance. When combined in the right amounts, the sensation can be overwhelming. And because I’m an expert on Kate’s body, I know just how to play her. When to speed up and slow down. If Kate were an orchestra, I’d be a maestro.
She moans and wiggles her ass, trying to move her hot spot closer to the vibrating toy. But I’m not having it.
I grip the gold bikini bottom from the back, drag it down her hips and toss it on the floor. Because as fun as crotchless panties are, Kate Brooks’s cunt is just too f**king pretty to cover.
I move the bullet in ever tightening circles in front. And then I dip my head down between her spread legs from behind. I nibble around the outside, taking my time. Then, I plunge my tongue deep inside.
The bullet finally makes its way to her clit—and I press it down firmly.
She moans as she comes. Her forehead hits the bed and her arms and legs tremble with aftershocks. She pants, “Drew…please…I want…God…”
All the nightingales out there? They should just freaking kill themselves with a bird-sized BB gun.
Because Kate begging for it is by far the sweetest sound God ever made.
“What, baby…what do you want?”
Instead of pleading for my cock, like I thought she would, Kate turns the tables on me. She spins around, and before I can blink, my painfully hard dick is down her throat.
My head rolls back. And I’m pretty sure I just went blind.
She sucks hard and moves her lips up and down fast. Yet as unbelievably perfect as her mouth feels, I find the willpower to pull out. I turn her around, grab her hips with my hands, and thrust into her from behind. She groans long and low. With relief and satisfaction.
Or maybe that was me.
We’re both so f**king turned on—I can’t tell anymore.
She pushes back against me as I surge forward. Kate’s head is low, and her hair swings like a pendulum as we rock and grind against each other. Clashing. My strokes gain force. Driving us forward.
But I need more. I need to feel her—be closer. I nudge her further onto the bed and climb on behind her.
Then, still buried inside, I pull Kate up by her shoulders and bend my knees so she’s straddling me—but facing away. Reverse Cowgirl Style.
My chest presses against her back. Her hair tickles my face as my lips devour her neck. She’s everywhere—surrounding me. Her scent, the feel of her against me, the taste of her skin, the sound of her voice crying my name.
And if you’ve got to go? Trust me—this is the f**king way.
My arms cross over Kate’s chest with my hands on her shoulders, pushing down as my hips thrust up hard.
And her words come out high-pitched and urgent: “Drew…Drew…I’m coming.”
“Fuck…I know…I can feel you.”
Her walls tighten around me like a starved boa constrictor.
And even though I want to hold out, even though I don’t want it to end yet—or ever—my dick apparently has other ideas, and I explode deep inside her.
My hands fall down to Kate’s waist, pulling her closer to me. Her head rests on my knees, and my mouth is against her back.
We’re both panting, out of breath.
But I find my voice first.
Kate laughs against my legs. “Couldn’t agree more.”
Much, much later, Kate and I lay in the middle of the bed, on top of the covers. A tangled mess of limp limbs and sweaty skin.
I like this part.
That may be pansy to admit, but let’s be real. Kate’s name is tattooed on my frigging arm. Trying to pretend like she doesn’t have my balls in her purse? Really kind of useless at this point.