Page 88 of The Beast Who Bought Me
As if to prove my theory, he murmurs in my ear, “You like being treated like some fucktoy, huh?”
I can only moan in response, pushing back into him, clamping tighter around his shaft. He smacks his hand down hard on my left cheek, the sting sharp and immediate. It brings back the memory of being bent over his lap, coming all over his pants while he spanked me like a naughty child.
And he’s thinking of that, too. “Remember how you shot your load all over me,” he breathes. “Got off on learning your place?”
I wish I could be angry. Wish I could snipe back at him, but my whole attention is on my dick and the grip he has on it. My bodyis alight with a raw need as he drives into the tight, wet space between my thighs. His thumb presses into my slit, smearing pre-cum everywhere.
“Yeah, you remember,” he chuckles darkly, his rhythm getting faster. “And you’re gonna come for me again. But you shoot that mess into your hand, you hear me? Not all over these sheets that I sleep in.”
The dirty talk, the feel of him, the denial, and the sheer reality of beingusedlike this—it all coalesces into a storm of sensation that detonates almost before I’m aware. I come with a loud, protracted cry, spilling into my own palm obediently, my whole body trembling, my asshole clenching and unclenching on nothing.
He pulls me close with an arm around my body, his cockhead nestling into my balls, and tugs my overflowing hand up to my mouth. “Come on, golden boy. You need your protein.” His grip tightens around my wrist until I have no choice but to open my lips and taste the mess from my own fingers. My face is burning, but a deeper, darker heat swims through me as I lick at it.
He throws me down onto my back and straddles me, his heavy cock resting on my belly. There’s a thump beside my head as he falls forward onto one hand. He leans in so close I feel the warmth of his breath on my sweat-soaked face, and I think maybe he’s going to finally do it, maybe he’ll lean in and kiss me?—
CHAPTER 32
DAMIANO
I wantto kiss Caligula Clemenza.
His chest heaves as he breathes beneath me, harsh and fast as though he’s excited all over again.
As for me, I might burst if he so much as lays a finger on me. God, the way he wriggled around while I enjoyed myself between his legs. Felt like wet, hot velvet. I had to exert every ounce of self-control to avoid taking the angle that would let my dick sneak into his tight little knot.
I won’t fuck him. I definitely can’t kiss him. So I do the only thing Icando.
I pull his sticky fingers up to my mouth and start sucking them clean. He tastes so good, so sweet and silky, that I almost groan. I lick right up his palm, chasing the rest.
He makes a strangled, helpless sound beneath me. I stare down at him in the utter blackness while I work my tongue over his hand. I can’t see him. But his other hand is sliding coyly up my shoulder, around the back of my neck, trying to pull me down to kiss him.
No fucking way.
I pull my mouth off of his fingers with a wet pop and roll away onto the bed, my dick slapping against my belly, complaining and angry. I ignore it and leave the bed to go clean up in the bathroom. I run a washcloth under water and bring it back to the bedroom for him. “Here,” I say, tossing it in the dark.
It seems to land alright, a soggy slap on skin that makes him gasp. I hear him running it over himself.
My dick has finally died down. I need to stop doing this to myself; it’s torturing me more than it’s humiliating him. Everything I said tonight, he just took as dirty talk, got off on it as much as…
Well. As much as I did.
“What do you want me to do with—” he begins.
“Just throw it on the floor, for Christ’s sake. And then move over.”
A second later, I feel a breeze past my arm and hear a damp splat against the wall behind. That little fucker balled up the cloth and threw it at me.
But I guess I can’t blame him. And I can’t prove it, either. There are no cameras in my bedroom that I could review, even if I wanted to.
So I just get back into bed and put my arm back around him.
“Are you going to crush me in your sleep again, Dami?” he needles. “Because if so?—”
“Shut up and go to sleep,” I mutter, holding him tighter.
I don’t plan to give him any chance to get out of bed without me knowing. If that means I have to hold onto him all night like a prickly fucking teddy bear, then that’s what I’ll do.
I wake the next morning to find the Clemenza gone from my bed.
