Page 127 of Chicago Sin
I smile and step up on the bed and crawl toward him, never taking my gaze from his. I circle my arms around his body. Deeply. Passionately. Wantonly.
He wraps me in his arms and flips me to my back, his tongue dancing with mine. He tastes like scotch, and it’s a good scotch, I can tell. I like the way it tastes on his tongue and the way he tastes on mine.
“Tell me what you want.” He lifts my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.
“I want it... kinky. Dark. I want to feel... submissive to you,” I confess, feeling safe to admit my darkest desires. “I don't want gentle. I don't want caresses. I want it dirty. The way you like to give it.”
I don't know what got into me and why the request is coming so easily. But we just left Sins, and if there is ever a time to completely let go, now is it.
“You want me to fuck you hard?” he pushes. “Push you around a little? Fuck you like the dirty little slut you just admitted you want to be?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“I'm going to do all that to you and more.” His smirk is dangerous.
“Don't hold back,” I breathe.
“Roll over, I want to see your ass,” he orders, releasing me and climbing off.
“Like this?” I roll to my belly.
“Up on your knees, Flowers.”
I step up on my knees and bend over, then look over my shoulder at him.
“Exactly like that. Now spread your cheeks.”
I do as I'm told, and he strokes his hand over my ass. I hear the snap of the tube of lubricant and his slickened fingers slide over my pussy, his thumb at my asshole. I shamelessly push back onto his fingers, begging for more.
“You want this?” He slaps my ass hard with his other hand, then rubs the hurt away.
“Yes. I want you to fuck my ass.”
“What else, Flowers?”
“I want you to get rough with me. Fuck me so I can’t walk straight. Until I can't even think anymore. All night long.”
Armando growls and plunges his fingers inside my pussy.
“I want you to slap my ass until it’s red and sore.”
“Fuck, baby. You’re getting me harder than stone. What else am I going to do to you?”
“I want you to…” I almost don’t dare ask for this one. But it’s a fantasy I’ve had since the day he showed up in my flower shop.
“What, Flowers?”
“Choke me.”
“Yeah? I’ll choke you, baby. You want a hand necklace while I fuck you hard?”
“Yes, please.”
“You like a little fear with your sex? Want me to cut off your air? Or just pretend, baby?”
I grow dizzy, scarcely believing we’re having this conversation. That my fantasy is actually going to come true. “I want you to cut off my air... make me feel like you're about to end me. Like I'm about to die for you.”
The room spins. I’m terrified by my request, but I go on. “I want you to own me. Make me yours and only yours. Your slut. Your dirty girl. Yours.”
