Page 127 of Cartel Devil
“What should we do about that?”
He takes some of the wetness and rubs it around my puckered hole. He taps it once before going back to my cunt. His touch is torture. I just want him to sink his fingers into me. Instead, he adjusts my arms, so they’re bent and out of the way. The moment he touches my clit, he brings the crop down on my left ass cheek. My back arches, and I stomp my feet.
“Chiquita?”
“I’m all right. I promise. Somehow, I always forget how much it stings.”
Mothertrucker!
It hurts like a motherfucker.
“Do you need me to be lighter?”
“No. That was just right.”
He continues, alternating sides, as he rubs my clit. Stimulating my clit is what’ll get me off, but that’s not what I need.
“Daddy, please put your fingers in me. I’m so empty.”
“I know, baby girl. I’m not filling you until it’s my cock. And we’re still in the middle of your punishment for being such a temptation.”
He flicks my ass again. I moan, need and pain coalescing into a consuming blaze. I shift, and Joaquin stops immediately.
“I’m just impatient, Joaco. It’s not because I’m uncomfortable. I mean, my ass burns with the heat of a thousand suns. But my belly’s fine. Promise.”
“Okay.”
He doesn’t sound as sure as he usually does.
“I’ll tell you the moment I get any twinges.”
“Twinge. Not twinges.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I attempt to rock against his fingers, but an extra sharp snap of the keeper reminds me Joaquin decides what I get. And what I get right now is edging. I’m into orgasm denial with him because it only intensifies the pleasure when he gives me one. But it tests the very limits of my patience.
“Please, Daddy. Make me come… God, it aches… You’re torturing me, Joaco… Fuck, I need you.”
“I know, chica.”
He says it with amusement rather than sympathy. He’s picked up the pace. The smacks come faster as he rubs my clit harder. I squeeze my eyes shut, my hands balled into fists to keep from reaching for him. I breathe through the pain to find the pleasure. It’s a challenge.
I’m quiet for a couple minutes as I clench my jaw. I love this as much as I hate it. One moment I want to beg him to stop. The next I’m begging him for more. I never say my safe word.
“Chiquita?”
“I’m still okay.”
He puts the crop aside and uses both hands to massage my burning flesh. While he didn’t spank me nearly as hard as he would if I weren’t pregnant, he made up for it with more spanks. He unties my wrists and rubs the inside of them before helping me off his lap. He moves my arms around, ensuring I’m not too stiff.
“I worked up more of an appetite, Tre. Will you help a starving man?”
I giggle as I crawl onto the bed. He snags me by the waist and pulls me back to the edge before flipping me over. He sinks to his knees, hooking my legs over his shoulders. He sniffs and sighs. My latest craving has been pineapple juice. I like to think it makes a difference—I’m a little self-conscious with everything changing down there—but the man’s had his mouth between my legs every chance he got from the start.
He drags his tongue the full length of my pussy before dipping the tip in, teasing me as he thrusts and retreats. When I squirm, his hands come to my hips and hold me in place. His thumbs rub just inside the bones, warming spots on my lower belly. That soothes me while his tongue excites me. I don’t know which sensations to focus on.
When I don’t squirm again, he uses his fingers to peel me open. He thrusts his tongue all the way in while sucking on my clit. His teeth graze the bundle of nerves, and my hips come off the bed. Immediately, he pins me and withdraws his mouth.
