Page 44 of Dirty Delivery

My eyes wander back to the shiny black shopping bag perched on the kitchen island, its tissue paper sticking out haphazardly. Curiosity nags at me, and before I can stop myself, the words are out of my mouth.

“What’s this?” I ask with a nod toward the bag.

Rylan glances over his shoulder as he tosses the vegetables into a simmering pot on the stove, and his lips curl into that infuriatingly cocky smirk. “Just some fun things I thought we should have on hand.”

My curiosity spikes. I step closer, reaching for the bag. But before my fingers can brush the tissue paper, his hand wraps gently but firmly around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

“Patience, mo stóirín,” he says, his tone teasing. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

I scoff, yanking my hand back. “Patience? That’s rich coming from you.”

His smirk widens, and in one swift motion, he spins me around and bends me over the cool marble of the kitchen island. My gasp echoes through the room when he pins my wrists to the counter with one hand and uses his foot to nudge my legs apart.

“I thought you remembered what happens to disobedient girls,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “Or do you need a reminder?”

I squirm, trying to wiggle free, but his grip only tightens. The sharp contrast between the marble and his heated touch sends a shiver down my spine.

“Rylan,” I start, but my voice betrays me, shaky and breathless.

He reaches over me, his chest pressing against my back, and pulls something from the bag. Before I can turn to see, he tugs my wrists behind me and secures them with soft leather cuffs. The click of the fastenings sends a jolt of anticipation through me.

“What is this?” I demand, my voice a mix of indignation and something I won’t quite admit.

“This,” he says, his voice like molten honey, “is your lesson in patience. Naughty girls need to be taught, don’t they?”

I whimper as his free hand trails down my back and slips under the fabric of my bikini cover. His fingers tease the sensitive skin of my inner thigh before grazing my already aching center. A moan escapes my lips, and I hate how easily he pulls it from me.

“Before we continue,” he says, his tone suddenly serious, “you need to pick a safe word.”

“A safe word?” I repeat, my mind struggling to focus through the haze of his touch.

“Yes,” he says, his fingers drawing lazy circles that make my knees weak. “Because now that I have you all to myself, I want to do many things to you. But I need to know you’re enjoying them. So pick a word.”

“Pineapple,” I blurt out, my cheeks flushing.

He chuckles, the sound dark and delicious, sending a rush of heat coursing through my body. “Pineapple it is. Now, where were we?”

His fingers slide beneath the scrap of my bikini, only to find me wet and wanting. “So ready for me.” Approval laces his tone. “Such a good girl.”

I shudder as he presses one finger inside me, slow and deliberate, before trailing the wetness to my virgin hole. His finger circles it gently, and my breath hitches.

“Has anyone ever taken you here, mo stóirín?” he asks, his voice velvety.

“No,” I whisper, my cheeks burning.

“Well then.” His tone is almost reverent. “We better get it nice and ready.”

He withdraws his hand, and I whimper at the loss. From behind me, I hear the rustle of the bag. When he returns, he’s holding a small anal plug and a bottle of lube. “Stay just like this,” he orders, his voice firm but teasing.

I obey, pressing my forehead to the cool marble as he unties the strings of my bikini bottoms, letting them fall away. The sound of the bottle opening sends a shiver down my spine, and then I feel the cool liquid drip between my cheeks.

His fingers work the lube in slow, deliberate circles, massaging and teasing until my clenched muscles slowly start to let go. The sensation is foreign but not unpleasant. If anything, it’s . . .intoxicating.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice filled with pride. “So responsive.”

I push back against his hand, silently demanding more. He chuckles, delivering a playful smack to my cheek. “Impatient as ever, I see.”

When he finally presses the plug to my entrance, he pauses. “Relax and breathe out,” he instructs.

---