Page 15 of Tempting Kat (Lust & Luxury #2)

“Fuck,” I whimper, unable to keep the sound trapped in my throat.

“That's it,” he growls, his fingers working magic inside me. “Let me hear you.”

“I'm not—I don't—” But I can't finish my sentence because he's added a third finger now, stretching me in the most delicious way.

“You don't what?” he taunts, his fingers slowing to a torturous pace. “You don't beg? You don't submit? You don't moan like a little slut when a man knows how to handle you properly?”

“Fuck you,” I gasp, but it comes out breathy and weak.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my inner thigh, and then I feel his mouth on me. Not teasing, but devouring.

He fucks me with his mouth, fast, hard, and deep.

It feels better than any sex I’ve ever had, and I’m desperate for more of it.

The scrape of facial hair against my skin makes my core clench and I wish I could wrap my legs around his head, grip his hair with my hands and ride his face until he drowns, or I pass out.

I'm close, so close, my thighs trembling against the restraints, when suddenly he stops. Everything. His mouth, his fingers—all gone.

“What the—” I gasp, my body screaming at the loss. “Why did you stop?”

“Did I say you could cum?” His voice is hard, uncompromising.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I tug against the restraints, fury and frustration making me wild. “You can't just?—”

“I can do whatever I want,” he cuts me off. “That's what you're being paid for, isn't it?”

I want to scream. I want to kick him in his smug face. But I can't do either of those things because I'm strapped to this fucking wall with my pussy exposed and throbbing.

“This isn't fair,” I whine. I’m almost embarrassed by the way my voice sounds.

“Life isn't fair, kitten. You should know that by now,” he says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice before his fingers slide back inside me again, three of them stretching me again deliciously as his tongue works magic on my clit.

I'm right on the edge, so close I can taste it, when he pulls away again.

“No!” I cry out, actual tears of frustration pricking at my eyes. “Please, Daddy, please don't stop.”

The word slips out again this time, like my body knows it's the key to getting what I need.

“Daddy likes when you beg,” he growls. “Is that what you want, kitten? Me stretching this greedy little pussy?”

“Yes,” I gasp, all pride forgotten in the face of raw need. “Please, Daddy, I need it.”

“I need to hear it clearly,” he says, pulling back slightly. “What do you want from me, Katarina?”

“I want you to fuck me,” I admit, beyond caring how desperate I sound. “I want your cock inside me, Daddy. Please.”

Instead of his cock, his fingers plunge back into me. His thick digits stretching me open while his thumb circles my clit with merciless precision.

“Not yet,” he growls. “First, I'm going to make you cum on my fingers. I want to feel this greedy cunt squeezing me when you lose control.”

I'm so close that my entire body is trembling. The restraints are the only thing keeping me here as he finger-fucks me with ruthless efficiency.

“Oh god, I'm—I'm going to—” I can't even finish the sentence before the orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave. My pussy clenches around his fingers as I cry out, my voice echoing in the small space.

But he doesn't stop. If anything, he moves faster, his fingers curling to hit that spot inside me that makes my vision blur.

“That's it. Soak my fucking hand,” he demands, his voice rough with arousal. “Show me how much that bratty cunt loves being controlled.”

The pleasure is so intense it borders on pain. My clit throbs under his relentless attention, and I'm squirming, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation.

“Wait, stop—I can't—it's too much!” I gasp, my thighs quivering uncontrollably.

“Are you calling red?” he asks, his fingers slowing but not stopping.

I grit my teeth. The idea of using the safe color makes something stubborn flare in my chest. “No. Fuck no.”

“That's what I thought,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Then you can take more.”

His fingers pick up the pace again and I’m caught between wanting to kick him in the face that I can’t even reach and begging for even more. My body betrays me completely as I already feel myself climbing toward another peak.

His mouth closes around my clit, and he bites, and I nearly levitate off the floor.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I babble, no longer caring how desperate I sound. My thighs are quivering uncontrollably, and tears leak from the corners of my eyes.

“Your pussy's getting tighter,” he growls against my flesh. “You're going to cum again for me.”

“I can't,” I insist, even as my body betrays me, clenching around his fingers. “It's not possible.”

“It is,” he insists, crooking his fingers inside me in a way that makes my eyes roll back in my head. “You just need the right man to make it happen.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” I'm chanting now, my hips both trying to run away and chase another orgasm.

The second orgasm hits me like a freight train, harder than the first. I'm screaming now, not caring who hears me as my entire body convulses. My pussy clamps down so hard it must hurt him, but he doesn't stop.

“Fuck, yes, that's it,” he snarls, and I feel him adding a fourth finger, stretching me wider than I've ever been stretched before. “But we're not done yet.”

“I can't—please—” I'm sobbing now, actual tears streaming down my face as he continues his merciless assault on my oversensitive flesh.

“You can and you will,” he commands, his voice brooking no argument. “One more, kitten. Give Daddy one more.”

“I'm going to fucking die,” I gasp, my legs shaking uncontrollably against the restraints.

“No one ever died from too many orgasms,” he says, and I can hear the dark amusement in his voice. “Though I'd be happy to be the first to make it happen.”

I'm delirious with pleasure now, my body no longer my own as he drives me toward a third peak. I can't think, can't speak, can only feel as he manipulates my body like he owns it.

“You're getting so tight again,” he groans, his fingers moving faster. “So fucking wet. I bet you're going to squirt for me this time.”

“I don't—I can't—” I've never squirted outside of masturbation, no matter how good the sex was.

“You will,” he says with absolute certainty. “I'm going to make you soak this whole fucking room.”

His confidence is terrifying and arousing in equal measure. He angles his fingers differently, pressing up against my front wall while his other hand delivers a sharp slap directly to my clit.

“Oh my GOD!” The sensation is so intense that my vision whites out. I feel a pressure building inside me, different from a normal orgasm, more intense, more frightening.

“Let go,” he commands, his voice rough with desire. “Fucking let go, Katarina.”

Something inside me breaks open, and I'm coming harder than I've ever come in my life, a flood rushing out of me as I scream his name. I feel wetness splashing everywhere, soaking his hands, his arms, probably his expensive fucking clothes.

“FUCK!” I cry out, my entire body convulsing as the most intense pleasure I've ever felt rips through me.

“That's it,” he growls, sounding almost feral as I feel the warm splash of my own release hitting my thighs. “Fucking drown me.”

I can't stop shaking, can't stop the flood pouring out of me as he continues to work his fingers inside me, prolonging the most earth-shattering orgasm I've ever experienced. I didn't even know my body could do this.

“No more,” I sob, my voice breaking as he continues to milk every last drop from me. “Please, I can't—I need—fuck me, please fuck me, I need your cock, please.”

I'm babbling incoherently, not even sure what I'm asking for anymore. I just know I need him to fill me as waves of pleasure continue to crash through me.

Then I hear him groan, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through my core, before I feel sharp teeth sinking into my inner thigh. The unexpected pain-pleasure makes me jerk against the restraints, a fresh wave gushing from me.

“Holy shit,” I gasp, feeling the imprint of his teeth in my flesh. It doesn't break skin, but I know I'll be wearing his mark for days.

“No more tonight, kitten,” he says, his voice husky and strained like he's holding himself back from devouring me whole. “You've had enough.”

“What?” I'm still trembling, still desperate despite the three mind-blowing orgasms he's given me. “But you didn't?—”

“If you won't take care of yourself, then you force me to,” he cuts me off, and I feel his fingers gently releasing the restraints around my ankles.

My legs feel like jelly as they're freed, and I slump against the wall, trying to catch my breath. I'm a complete mess—sweaty, soaked with my own release, marked with his teeth.

“I don't understand,” I admit, hating how vulnerable I sound.

“I know you don't,” he says, and there's something almost tender in his voice now. “But you will.”

I feel something soft wiping between my legs—a towel or cloth—cleaning up the mess I've made. His touch is gentle now, almost reverent.

The gentle way he's cleaning me is throwing me off balance. I expected rough, demanding, selfish. Not this. Not careful touches and soft strokes as he wipes away the evidence of what we just did.

“What are you doing?” My voice comes out raspy from all the screaming.

“Taking care of you.” His answer is simple, matter of fact, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I shake my head even though he can't see me. This isn't how these things are supposed to go. Rich guys with power kinks don't tenderly clean up the girls they just made squirt for the first time in their lives. They don't worry about aftercare. They get what they want and move on.

“Stop,” I say, confusion making me defensive. “This isn't—I don't need you to?—”

“Enough.” His voice cuts through my stammering with such authority that my mouth snaps shut. “You've been fucking with boys, and I am a man. Don't put some preconceived notion on how I should fucking act on me.”

I don't know what to say to that. My brain is still fuzzy from those earth-shattering orgasms, and his tenderness is more disorienting than his dominance.

He finishes cleaning me up, and I hear the sound of him moving away, probably disposing of whatever he used to wipe me down. I'm suddenly aware of how exposed I still am, legs shaky and weak, skirt bunched around my waist, and no panties.

I straighten up, pulling my skirt down as best I can, trying to regain some dignity. My thighs are still trembling, and I can feel the ache between my legs where he stretched me with his fingers.

“It's the end of the night,” I finally say, breaking the silence. “I want to see you, know who you are.”

I hear him sigh on the other side of the wall. “Yeah, I think it's about time for that also, kitty kat.”