Asking for it, p.24
Asking for It, p.24Part #1 of Asking for It series by Lilah Pace
He shoves me onto the bed. One shoe I lost in the doorway; the other falls off now. I try to push him off, but it’s futile. Jonah straddles me and smiles in slow satisfaction as he spreads my arms wide. “Shhhhh. ” He pushes one of my wrists through a loop of rope—it’s soft, silky, like the stuff that holds back curtains, but when he tightens it, I’m bound as inexorably as I could be by handcuffs. “This will go so much easier if you stop fighting me. Much faster. Don’t you want it to go faster? To be over?”
“Let me go—”
Jonah thrusts my other hand into its binding. “Shut up,” he whispers. “Or I’ll gag you with your own panties. ”
He slides off the foot of the bed and pulls one of my ankles to the post. Within a moment I’ll be tied down, spread-eagled, open to him and whatever he wants to do to me.
He ties the other foot. That’s it. I’m completely helpless. Only the word silver could save me now.
As he stands at the foot of the bed, between my legs, Jonah runs his hands up my thighs. “I wanted a pretty one. A girl like you. One I can keep. ”
Silver, I think wildly. Silver. But that’s not what I say. “Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I swear. You could drive me somewhere—let me out, so I don’t know where you are—”
Jonah shakes his head slowly. “I warned you. ”
He reaches under my skirt and rips my panties away. As I watch in a crazed mixture of horror and desire, he wads the cotton into a ball, then climbs atop the bed. One of his hands forces my jaw open, and he stuffs what’s left of my panties inside. I can taste my own wetness, my own need.
As he kneels between my parted, trembling thighs, Jonah takes my T-shirt collar in both hands and rips it open. I went without a bra, so my breasts are exposed to him. As he cups them, he pinches my nipples and smiles as they harden to his touch.
“Let’s see what else I caught,” Jonah says. His strong hands tear through my skirt as if it were made of tissue paper. Now I’m naked, as exposed to him as a person could be. “Oh, I can think of lots of things to do with you. ”
By now I’m crying. It’s not acting, not completely.
“What?” He looks at me, mock-innocent. “Do you have something to say?”
He pulls my panties from my mouth for the pleasure of hearing me beg.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please. ”
“Why should I? Are you a virgin?”
“Then you’re a slut. Anyone can use you. Now it’s my turn to use you. ”
I try to turn my face away, but he stuffs my underwear back into my mouth. For a few moments he watches me, writhing and helpless. My cunt is completely exposed to him—every part of me is laid bare—and I can hide nothing. Prevent nothing.
“So many things I can do to you,” he murmurs. “First I need my toys. ”
Toys? That could mean anything. I told him not to cause me serious pain—so not a whip, probably—but the list of things he could use to bind or humiliate me is endless. They run through my mind, a kaleidoscope of sexual perversion that lights me up inside.
I hear him outside, then at the door. What else could he have brought?
When he walks inside, he casually tosses a bag near the foot of the bed, then smirks to see me there, tied so that he can see my exposed cunt. Jonah steps closer and thrusts his fingers inside me. He works his hand in and out, slowly, then steps back. His grin is wicked as he unzips his pants.
I don’t want to want this, but I do—I do—
“You want to beg me some more?” Once more he tugs the panties from my lips. I think he likes this, shoving them inside, silencing me.
“You don’t have to do this. ” My words come out shaky.
Jonah laughs. “Say anything you want, bitch. ”
Then he climbs atop me, his blood-dark cock thick between my legs for the moment before he pushes inside.
It burns. It aches. It’s so fucking good I could scream.
His cock fills me, inch by inch—he’s taking it slow, tormenting me with how long it will take. “Yeah,” he whispers as he sinks in deeper. “That’s it. ”
He’s in me all the way now, and starts thrusting, still going slow—but strong, so strong he pushes my body upward on the bed, and the ropes around my ankles strain. I groan in mingled satisfaction and pain.
“Shut the fuck up,” he says. His hips rock forward, so that he’s buried in me to the hilt. “Or I’ll pound you harder, ’til you bleed. ”
Jonah slides into me. Out of me. Every stroke burns; every move aches. My traitorous body responds to him, wanting more even as the ropes bruise my wrists.
“Taking it slow,” Jonah says. “Do you know why?”
I shake my head. My hair is stuck to my forehead with sweat
“Because I’m not going to come in you yet. You have to wait for it. Soon you’ll beg for it, because that’s the only way I’m going to stop. ” He pushes in again, burying himself deep inside me, and whispers against my shoulder, “Stop for now, I mean. I’m going to fuck you again. And again. I’m going to fuck you blind. ”
“I told you to shut the fuck up. ”
Jonah pushes the panties back into my mouth, and this time he won’t take them out again. He pumps into me, his hips pistoning faster and harder until the force of it feels like it’s going to rip me apart. He’s spread my legs so far apart that I can see where he sinks into me, the faint glistening of my wetness against his rigid cock as he slides in and out and in again. My ragged cries are muffled by the cotton in my mouth, and I can tell he loves how I try to scream, and fail.
When I’m on the verge, I can’t help rocking my hips up to meet his—but that’s when he pulls out, denying both of us release.
For a moment he kneels there, his cock jutting forward as he looks at his prisoner. He reaches up to cup my breasts, squeezing hard.
Then he slides off the bed.
He goes for his bag and pulls out something small and white, U-shaped. What in the world?
“I’m going to roll you over,” he says. “You’re not going to kick me, or fight, or do anything else stupid. If you do, you get spanked. Understand me?”
Nobody’s ever tried to spank me before. Is Jonah talking about light, playful pats, or something more brutal?
Probably the latter. I mean to find out.
When he loosens one of my ankles, I do nothing more than flex my foot. Renewed circulation sends blood rushing through my heel and arch and toes, tingling in a way both painful and welcome. But when he releases the other, I use my newfound traction to push myself farther up the bed and kick at him.
“Bitch. ” Jonah lunges over me and sinks his teeth into my shoulder. Pain ripples through me—has he broken the skin?—and I freeze. This is what he wanted. He turns me over as best he can. While my arms are still tied to the posts, most of my body lies on my left side, and he’s now scooting down the bed to tug my legs to the opposite bedposts.
He’s turning me over just enough to expose my ass.
“That’s right,” Jonah murmurs. “Lie still instead of fighting. You want to make me happy, don’t you? If you make me happy, I can be nice to you. Give you something to eat. Let you sleep in this bed instead of on the floor. ”
Oh, God, oh, God. What is he going to do to me? I fear it as much as I thrill to it. Is there no danger, no humiliation, that can ruin this fantasy for me? Or will it own me forever?
It owns me. Jonah owns me.
I shake my head yes, silently affirming that I’ll do what I can to “make him happy. ”
He grabs my hair, lunges close. “Good. You’ve learned that you have to do whatever I want. And now I want you to wear something. ”
Wear something? Confusion only adds to my fear as he pulls away again and grabs the sm
“You’re not just going to take this,” Jonah says. “You’re going to like it. ”
I hear a soft click—and the device inside me begins to vibrate.
This is a vibrator? I’ve only seen the rabbit ones, not counting the enormous things they sell at the pharmacy as “back massagers. ” I come so easily that I’ve never bothered buying one.
It feels good, though. Great. I realize now that this is perfectly designed to be worn during sex; the end inside me is slim enough that Jonah could push his cock in there too. Maybe the sensation will do something for him, too. But I don’t know why he thinks I’d need a vibrator to enjoy it when he fucks me . . .
Just at that moment, Jonah slides two fingers inside my ass.
My entire body tenses, clenching around him. His fingers seem to slide up so deep inside me; the pressure kindles primal shame within. I start to shake, individual muscles in my legs and my ass trembling like the strings of an instrument being played. As Jonah turns his hand inside me, I can feel the pressure of his knuckles—the roughness of his skin against my hole—and I feel myself blushing so strongly that my skin seems to be on fire. Jonah chuckles, low and hot; he must see that I’ve gone scarlet with shame. He pulls out his hand, but he’s not done.
I called off my limits. Why did I do that? Because now he’s going to do something to me no other man ever has. Jonah is going to fuck my ass.
“You’re going to love it,” he whispers as he ties one of my legs to the bedpost, then the other. I couldn’t turn over if I wanted, now. Jonah’s fingers push back inside me—not so slow, this time—and he starts working his fingers back and forth. Yet the vibration against my clit keeps doing its job, turning me on even more. “You’re going to come hard while I’m in your ass, and that’s going to prove how much you love it, slut. ”
Oh, God, oh God, oh God, oh God. I told him this was no longer forbidden, but only because I knew it was something that could happen in a real attack. Nobody’s ever put it in my asshole before. It’s going to hurt. It would hurt if anyone did it, but Jonah’s massive cock will split me in two—
“You’re going to come so hard, it’ll be the best it’s ever been. ” Jonah pushes another finger in me. Tender flesh stretches. By now I can tell he’s slicked his hand with something, oil or some other kind of lube, but it doesn’t lessen my panic. I don’t want him to do this. I want out of here.
And yet I don’t.
I can’t say silver, not with my underwear jammed in my mouth. Still, I could stop him by snapping my fingers. Even bound as I am, I could manage that. But the vibration is starting to profoundly affect me. Spirals of arousal spin through my head, dizzying me completely. My cunt throbs and aches. But it’s my ass Jonah is working hard.
One last plea: I shake my head. Jonah laughs. “What, do you want to beg? I like hearing you beg. ” With that he tears the wet rag of my panties from my lips and throws it aside, done with it at last. “Beg me, baby. ”
“I—” I choke out the word. “Please, not that. Anything but that. I’ll do anything else you want. ”
“You’re going to do everything I want anyway, bitch. ”
And then Jonah pushes inside.
I cry out. The pain is undeniable—and yet it lessens quickly as Jonah holds still, stretching my body to fit him. Shaking, I try to wriggle away from him, but I can’t move. All I do is push the vibrator more forcefully against my clit, and then there’s no telling the pain from the pleasure.
Jonah starts to move, taking my ass the way he’s wanted to since the beginning. I hear him groan in satisfaction.
He’s tearing me apart—no. He’s fusing us together. There’s no me any longer, no him. There’s only the way Jonah pumps into me, every move turning us into one.
Jonah’s the only man who ever made my entire mind splinter like this. Because I can’t speak. I can’t think. I don’t know what to feel. All I know is that he’s pumping me hard now, so deep inside me that it seems like—like there’s nothing left of me except my body, and my body is completely his—even the arousal arcing inside me, more and more powerful, that belongs to him too—
My cunt contracts, and my orgasm crashes over me, through me, a tidal wave of pure ecstasy. My ass clenches around Jonah’s cock, and I hear his low, cruel laugh of triumph. He did this to me, fucked me up the ass and made me come long and hard and good while he did it.
That’s it. He’s won. He could never own me more than he does right now. And I glory in my own defeat.
Jonah plunges into me again, his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of me. “Not done yet, baby. Not nearly done yet. ”
And the vibration isn’t done with me either. Already I feel arousal building inside me again. Surely I can’t come again this fast. I can’t. Yet the vibrator’s inexorable stimulation continues rippling through me, demanding my response.
He keeps pumping into me. Stretching me out. Violating me in the most degrading way a man can force a woman—and making me love it.
Every single flutter of the vibrator between my legs brings me closer to the brink.
“Oh, God,” I whisper against the mattress, in mingled surrender and shame. “Oh, oh—”
It crashes into me like white noise and white light and oblivion. I come so hard it makes me convulse beneath him, and Jonah laughs out loud in his triumph.
No one else could ever master me like this. Only Jonah.
He whispers, “Slut. ” And then he grunts and shoves inside me to the hilt, shuddering as his own orgasm takes him.
For a moment I lie there, vibration now almost painful against my overstimulated clit. But Jonah leans back—slides out—and slips the vibrator out too.
“You’ll beg me for that again later. You’re going to beg me for all kinds of things. ” He unleashes my ankles and turns the vibrator off, setting it aside. I’m too limp and weak to resist or even to move. “Now you’re going to shower for me. I want to watch you. Then you’ll come back here and get tied with your legs open again. So anytime I want to use you, I can. ”
Jonah slips my wrists free, drags me to my feet—
—and my cell phone rings.
The sound of that ringtone—the one I assigned to Chloe after our last awkward phone conversation—jolts me almost entirely out of the fantasy. He must have brought in my duffel bag when he walked away for a few seconds, because the ring is close, maybe by the door. Jonah’s growl of frustration is completely real. How could I have forgotten to turn the ringer off?
“Are your friends wondering where you are?” Jonah runs his hand over one of my breasts, pulls at my nipple. “They’re never, ever going to know. I’m going to shut off your phone so we don’t get disturbed again. ”
The ringing stops. Thank God. Chloe will leave her voice mail, and Jonah and I can slip back into the fantasy. He walks me through the living room into the bathroom, which is basic tile, stark and white. Trembling, I step into the shower where I’ll have to perform for him—
—which is when the damned phone rings again. And it’s still Chloe.
Chloe would always rather leave a voice mail. Always. She wouldn’t keep calling back if this were any ordinary call.
This is important.
“Silver. ” I turn to Jonah and repeat the safe word. “Silver. ”
Instantly he releases my arms. His expression shifts in an instant, no longer the angry, brutal master. Now he’s Jonah again, and I’m me. “What’s going on?”
“My sister. She never calls twice like that. ”
I head toward the sound of the ring. My legs are still shaky; my breathing is still too quick.
“Thank God I got you. ” Chloe doesn’t sound sarcastic. She’s totally sincere. This is bad.
“What happened?” I whisper. “Tell me. ”
“Dad had a cardiac arrest. Tomorrow they have to do open-heart surgery. They don’t know if he’s going to live. ”
I was shattered before Chloe called. Now I’m—I don’t know what I am.
“It’s after seven o’clock,” I say as I put on my underwear, yank on a bra. “I couldn’t get to the airport before eight or eight thirty. They never have leftover seats anymore, especially not for the flights at the end of the day. ”
Jonah has refastened his jeans. He holds his hands out the way a groom might try to soothe a skittish horse. “You can fly out first thing in the morning. We can buy your ticket over the phone. ”
I shake my head. “That’s too long. ”
“They have to operate right away,” Chloe said. “He’s scheduled for a valve replacement first thing in the morning. ”
There’s no way I could spend the morning up in a plane, phone shut off, waiting to land so I can find out whether my father is alive or dead.
“Wait,” Jonah says. “Are you going to drive it?”
“I’ve driven from Austin to New Orleans before. ” It’s eight hours, usually—but late at night I can make better time. I might be able to cut that down to six. I could get to my house before dawn. Then maybe I could see my father first thing in the morning, before the surgery.
Jonah doesn’t look convinced. “That’s one hell of a drive. ”
“You meet the most interesting people that way. ” My laugh sounds strangled in my throat. “So don’t knock it. ”
“Vivienne. ” He steps closer to me. “You’re shaken up and worn out. Driving through the night—you could fall asleep at the wheel. ”
“While I’m freaking out about my father maybe dying any second? I seriously doubt I’m in danger of dozing off. ” I yank on my sweater, step into my jeans.
Jonah’s hand closes over my shoulder, a gentle touch that seems to flow into me like a slow, deep breath. “At least eat something,” he says softly. “It won’t cost you ten minutes, and you’ll be in better shape for the drive. ”
Asking for It by Lilah Pace / Romance & Love have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on100 votes