Page 75 of The Games We Play

“Spark,” she gasps, tugging against the silk. The momentary flash of panic subsides as she breathes into being bound.

I stroke the side of her face. “Good girl. Do you know how fucking hot you look tied to my bed?” I pick up her other hand and kiss each of her fingertips before placing it gently down by the headboard. “I’m not going to tie this one because of the brace, but I’m trusting you to leave your hand right where I put it. Now you can let go, and focus on taking what I give you. If it becomes too much, just sayrain.”

“I’ll try not to,” she says. Her breath catches. So does mine when I see the trust in her eyes.

“Good girl.”

Crawling backward down her body, I look at her. There’s a freckle above her breast, and I want to lick it, but I school myself to wait. When I get to the end of the bed, I sit back on my knees and look at her. The sunlight shifts, diffusing one side of her body in a warm glow. “You’re perfect, Iris.”

“None of us are,” she replies. “But I’m glad I’m perfect enough for you right now.”

The way she saysright nowis like a song with a note out of tune. It grates, like it doesn’t belong. “You’re more than perfect enough. Forever.”

I slide my hands along her calves. They’re soft, not overly defined. “Open your legs,” I instruct.

She doesn’t, and my pulse skips a beat.

I stare down at her, and she rubs her thighs together.

I hold my position, my cock pulsing as she defies me. My eyes meet hers as I lean forward and slap her mound. “One.”

Iris gasps. Her whole back arched off the bed as she tugs against the tie.

When she doesn’t open her legs, I do it again. “Two.”

“Spark.” The word comes out on a breath.

“We have all morning, little chick. And I’m more than happy to slap this pussy of mine as many times as you need until you’re ready to open those legs of yours for me.”

I raise my hand. And this time, she opens her legs and bites down on her lip. “Three,” she whispers, and I slap her again. This time, right over her wet and glistening pussy. My fingers are coated, and I bring them to my mouth, sucking her juices right off them.

“Beg me to lick you.”

“What? I—” she says, her eyes on me.

My dick twitches as I raise an eyebrow.

She tries to close her legs as a pink blush creeps along her cheeks.

“Ah. Ah. Ah.” I slap her pussy again. Her clit is proud, red, likely aching. “If I want to look, you’re going to let me, Iris. Beg me.”

“Just do it instead.” Her words are forceful. See, she does have spirit.

“You want me to eat out that pussy of yours? Make you come with my tongue before my dick?”

“Yes. Please, Spark.”

And there are the two words that are my catnip.PleaseandSpark.Our energies vibrate, a perfect collision of need and desire. To dominate and obey. To find the joy in submitting to our needs.

“Then. Beg. Me.”

“Please, will you eat out my pussy, Spark?”

“Your pussy?”

“Please will you eat out this pussy you own, Spark? I really need your mouth on me.”

I breathe deeply. Letting the power of her words fill up the holes deep inside me. “It’ll be my pleasure.” I use my shoulders to keep her legs wide and bury my tongue between her thighs. I mean to go slow, but the taste of her, the sound of her pleasure cranks me to a place where self-control slides in favor of gratification. Hers. Mine. I don’t really care as long we’re both getting what we need.