Page 45 of 'Tis the season of Wicked Deeds

“Now will you be my quiet, little whore, and let me finish my meal?”

I whimper and nod again, while my ass is stinging like hell.

Spank.

I wait for him to pull his hand away from my mouth. Instead, it tightens as he paddles my ass and the top of my thighs without a single pause.

Spank.

Spank.

Spank!

Every inch of me rocks and trembles in Kingston’s hold. Over the roaring in my ears, I hear him throw the spatula away and rub my punished skin soothingly. There’s reverence in his touch, even as aftershocks run down my spine.

Pain slowly ebbs into erotic pleasure, and when I shift, arousal makes my inner thighs sticky. Understanding dawns on me.

I enjoyed it.

In spite of the hurt where, at one point, I feared he might tear my skin, I loved every minute of his harsh discipline. My body an instrument for him to play.

Flipping me over on my back, he resumes his position between my spread thighs and his mouth latches on to my clit. My painful lesson fresh on my mind, I bite down on my lips when he purposely grabs and squeezes my ass, loving the feel of my inflamed flesh—all his sadistic doing.

All I can focus on is his tongue flicking my nub in a perfect rhythm. Kingston’s balancing the sensations between soft and hard.

“Drip for me,” he orders. “Soak my face. Show me what a whore you are for me.”

I tug at his hair, riding his tongue.

One palm rests on my lower belly, while his free hand joins his mouth and circles my entrance. I can’t tear my heavy-lidded eyes away from him, watching his lips and fingers work me over like a voyeur.

Trapping my clit between his teeth, he sucks hard while thrusting two fingers inside me without warning.

I dare not make a sound and forget about the wide-open doors to the kitchen.

The threat of anybody walking in.

The staff I spent the whole morning working alongside. If they saw their boss going down on me, they will think I’m his dirty whore.

The little catch—I want them to.

Kingston’s wild eyes connect with mine and he fucks me hard and fast, making it difficult to hold back my moans. Another finger joins in, stretching my walls. I grab the edge of the counter when he curls the digits and pounds right against my G-spot.

Thrust.

Thrust.

Thrust.

I want to beg and plead, but I’m scared to disobey him and risk another paddling. Head dropping, I ride his hand, forcing myself to come fast. He catches on to my plan and stops moving his fingers.

His wet tongue swirls around my swollen clit achingly slow. Running the sharp edge of his teeth over the hood, drawing a shudder.

Desperate to come, I grip his hair to urge him to taste me faster. Instead, he captures my wrist and traps it to the side.

“I own your orgasms, Twinkle,” he growls, licking from my clit to my asshole without shame. I shudder when he rims my ass with his tongue. So nasty and taboo. “I’m still hungry. You will come when I’m full.”

No. I can’t wait till then.

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