“What’s the safe word?” his husky voice whispers into my ear.
I shiver from the contact, my lips parting to say something, I can’t think of a safe word, not while his breath mingles with mine. He is so close that I can’t think straight.
“What is the safe word?” his voice again, but only this time it is firm.
I gulp, struggling for the easiest word to use. “Peaches,” I blurt out.
He raises his brow. “Peaches?” he questions.
I nod my head, unsure of what to say.
He appears deep in thoughts. For a moment, I thought the word meant something to him, but I dare not ask questions, not if I value my behind.
Right now, I don’t want to ask questions, I want to feel the pain and pleasure his sinful lips have promised me. I need to feel the promises his cock has assured me I would get.
I had longed and dreamt about this moment since the moment his lips captured mine in a fierce kiss. I was rattled. If his lips could make me feel that way, how else would I feel when I have his lean, muscular body on mine?
He turns around, going towards the chest of drawers, housing his tools for pleasure, he takes out a feather, and I almost laugh aloud. What can a feather possibly do to me? I want to be thoroughly fucked and punished, and he is bringing a feather? Fuck that!
I take my eyes off him and let them wander around the room.
It has a large mirror for a wall – I could see myself hanging from the harness he had up there. The leather he used in decorating everything is all black, and the walls are painted red. It’s a typical playroom. I love it.
I lick my lips. Pain with pleasure is what I craved no matter what.
I keep my breaths slow and even, trying to make little noise because I don’t want to draw attention to myself more than I had already.
I watch the muscles on his back contract as he keeps rummaging through the drawers, searching for the perfect toy to use on me. The evidence of anticipation forms a pool between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together, squirming, as my thigh rubs against my clitoris. Oh, that feels so good! Good.
I close my eyes, wanting to feel more of the friction. I rub my thighs aggressively, reaching out to ease the ache between them when a hand stops me, and my eyes pop open to gape at him.
“What do you think you are doing?” he questions, the power in his voice making me tremble and ache for him at the same time.
“N…nothing, sir,” I stutter out. I can feel the rush of elephants stampeding in my belly. He stares at me, not saying anything. I don’t know if he is mad at me, but his face remains unchanged. He doesn’t utter a word.
He raises his hands, and I flinch, waiting for the pain that will follow after; instead, I hear a low humming sound…
What the hell is that?
