Page 50 of Black Flag

He kept his right handaround my neck, his thumb swept over my lower lip. His other hand traced theoutline of my funbags, ran down my stomach, along my inner thigh, circledtoward my crankcase and then pulled away.

My eyes searched his.He winked with a smirk biting down on his lower lip. His eyes fell closed andhis forehead fell against mine. When he let out a soft groan, I dropped my eyesto his motions below to find that his hand was dipped inside his jeans, rubbingalong his hard camshaft.

Hot fucking damn!

My only answer was torub my thighs together searching for any type of friction. Jameson shook hishead pushing forward, spreading my legs as he continued to stroke himselfinside his jeans.

“What you did...driving me to the point of utterfixation...was cruel.” He breathedagainst my cheek, the words vibrated throughout.

“So is this...” I pointed out. “Thisiscruel.”

Let me explain, myhands were handcuffed to the chair. Jameson had my legs spread, panties weresoaked with so much assembly lube I could bottle the shit and he was touchinghimself inches from me.AndI couldn’t do a goddamn thing.

This is punishment inthe cruelest form.

Jameson chuckled,amused by with himself and yanked away, unbuttoned his jeans, flipped my dressup to my waist and dropped to his knees.

Both of his stronghands slowly traveled from my ankles, up my thighs and around my ass where hepulled me to the edge. “I should make you beg me right now...but I need you so bad...that it’s going to happen like this,” hepulled my panties down to my lower thigh and ripped them off with his teeth.

Fucker...now I won’t have underwear the rest ofthe night. Not cool.

“You’re going to staytied up, while I driveyouto complete insanity.”

“You already have.”

“Ah honey,” he drew outlazily. “I haven’t even begun to drive you insane.”

We didn’t have a lot oftime. Racing would be starting in less than twenty minutes but Jameson wastalented at what he does and he knows his way around an engine.

His fingers were quick,his hands were strong, his tongue was fervent and his mouth was scorching.

The problem I had isthat Jameson would get me right to the point of my release and then pull awaywith a chuckle. He did this probably five times before I screamed, “Fuck meJameson!” at the top of my lungs.

Whatwaseven more embarrassing were the chuckles from the announcer’s booth next toJameson’s office.

Yep, ten grown men,most of which I grew up with, just heard me tell my boyfriend to fuck me.

Was I embarrassed? Yes,immensely so.

Did I care? Not onefucking bit. What I cared about was Jameson finishing what he started.

“I swear to godJameson!” I whisper-shouted, “If you don’t fuck meright now...I will never have sex with you again.”

He chuckled looking upthrough his dark lashes. “Don’t threaten me.” His eyes grew solemn. “You and Iboth know that wouldn’t happen.”

“Don’t test me.”

“You know, I don’tthink you’re in the position to be threatening me.” His eyes shifted to myhands. “You are in fact handcuffed to a chair and I have theonlykey.”

Why you dirty fuckingheathen!

I knew what to do toget him. After all, Iama woman. Naturally, we have a built in defensemechanism for when a situation isn’t going our way.

We cry.

So I cried. Bigcrocodile tears with my puppy dog eyes. “Please Jameson...” the clanking of the handcuffs as Ipleaded caught his stare and he weakened just like I knew he would. For a dealsealer, I raced to add, “I need you!”

He ripped the handcuffsoff the next second, dropped his pants and had me bent over his desk instantly.

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