Page 40 of Vance

Vance crouches in front of me and tenderly cups my cheek. “That’s my good girl.” He leans in, and his lips brush over my sore jaw. “That’s my very good girl.”

“That’s my good girl.” I kiss the words across her jaw, knowing how sore it must be from being stretched around my cock for the entirety of that call. “That’s my very good girl.”

And, fuck, she is.

My gaze roams over her swollen lips, slightly bowed head; the entire posture screams surrender. It’s a breathtaking fucking sight, almost as much as the fire she had in her eyes just an hour ago when she struck me. There’s a duality to Sophia that fascinates the hell out of me. She’s both a wild, defiant spirit and a woman capable of complete submission. Both are fucking gorgeous. One is a challenge to be conquered, while the other is a reward to be savored—and I’m not sure which I enjoy more.

My cock, still wet from her mouth, throbs with a need so visceral, it’s painful. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, a spring ready to snap. I need to be inside her again, not just to claim her, but to feel that connection. More than anything, I need that moment when her body betrays her mind, and she melts around me—when I feel her surrender from the inside out.

I rise, pulling her to her feet with a single, fluid motion. She’s unsteady, a delicate creature on trembling legs, and the sight sends a fresh surge of possessive triumph through me. I turn her, my hands firm on the soft curve of her hips, and gently bend her over my mahogany desk. The desk that just witnessed her punishment is about to be the stage for her pleasure. Her palms press flat against the cool wood and her body arches, offering itself up for my taking.

The shirt has ridden up, but not enough. I hook my fingers beneath the hem and lift, slowly peeling the soft blue fabric away to reveal the smooth canvas of her thighs and the twin globes of her ass.

And fuck… those welts.

A groan rips from my chest, raw and unbidden. They are more than beautiful. They are fucking art. A series of angry, raised red lines, stark against her milky skin, a geometric pattern of pain and possession that I created. “Fuck, sweetheart. I can’t take my eyes off you,” I breathe, my voice a rough, reverent whisper. “You’re fucking perfect like this, decorated and marked as mine.”

I sink to my knees, a king in supplication to his most sacred treasure. The change in perspective is breathtaking. From this angle, she is all soft curves and vulnerable flesh. When I lean forward, with my lips hovering just above the most inflamed line, I can feel the heat radiating from her skin. I press a soft, almost chaste kiss to the warm welt. She flinches, sucking in a sharp, slightly pained breath, but she keeps still. My good girl is learning so quickly. I kiss each mark—a slow and deliberate pilgrimage of my ownership—my tongue darting out to taste the faint, salty tang of her skin and the coppery heat of her punishment.

After kissing the last of my marks, I drag my tongue along the sensitive crease where her thigh meets her ass. My path guided by the intoxicating scent of her arousal, a sweet, musky perfume layered with the thrilling tang of anticipation. Carefully gripping the cheeks of her ass, I spread them wide to reveal the tight, forbidden pucker of her ass and the slick, glistening folds of her pussy. The pretty pink flesh is swollen and ready for me.

Leaning forward, I drag the flat of my tongue from her clit, over her dripping entrance and across her tight asshole in one long, possessive stroke. Her body bows as a strangled cry tears from her throat. “Daddy…”

I answer her not with words, but with my mouth. I feast like I am a starved man and she is my buffet. I lick, suck, and devour, my tongue delving deep inside her cunt, tasting her desire, and claiming every inch of her. I focus on her clit, swirling the tip of my tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing it until she is writhing on the desk and her nails scrape uselessly at the polished wood. When she’s on the precipice, I slide two fingers inside her, crooking them to find the spongy spot that makes her sing. I fuck her with my hand while relentlessly sucking on her clit, my only goal to make her fall apart so I can taste her sweet surrender on my tongue.

It doesn’t take long. Her body goes rigid, every muscle tense beneath my hands as she teeters on the edge. Her breath comes in short, desperate pants as her fingers claw at the desk.

“I’m coming,” she gasps. “Fuck… I’m coming…”

She shatters, a wave of pleasure crashing through her. Her cry—a high, keening wail of release—fills the silent office as her tight pussy clenches around my fingers. I lap at her, drinking her down, until her tremors subside, and she melts against the desk, utterly spent.

My cock throbs with an almost painful urgency as I rise to my feet with the sweet, musky victory of her release glistening on my lips. I grip her hips, my fingers digging into the soft flesh beside her beautiful welts, and pull her up. I line myself up, the swollen, weeping head of my cock nudging against her slick entrance.

“Please…” Her breathy, desperate plea is music to my ears.

I give her what she wants—what we both need—driving into her with a smooth, merciless stroke that buries me to the hilt. My head falls back, and a guttural groan rumbles from my lungs at the feeling of being completely sheathed in her. This… This is where I belong. Where she belongs.

Setting a slow, deep, and punishing rhythm, my cock is slick with her desire as I watch myself disappear inside her. My hips grind against the red, welted flesh of her ass; the sight is all-consuming, a visual confirmation of my possession. My fingers drift over the warm, raised lines on her skin and a series of dark thoughts surface.

I’d love to fuck her tight little asshole.

I want to watch it stretch around my thick cock as I rub my hands over her heated, thoroughly marked flesh.

How beautiful my wife would look with cum dripping from it when I leave her gaping.

But not today. Not until my seed has taken root and is growing in her belly.

I lean forward, my chest pressing against her back as I murmur lowly against her ear. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

“So good,” she pants, her voice ragged. “Please… don’t stop.”

“Do you need to come?”

She shudders, a full-body tremor that has nothing to do with pain. “Yes,” she whimpers, the confession desperate and fractured. “I need it.”

A dark satisfaction settles in my chest. “I’ll always give you exactly what you need,” I promise against her ear. “Always.”

Having lifted her from the desk, I help her find purchase on it. Her palms flat against the polished wood as I claim her lips in a bruising kiss over her shoulder. I swallow her moans as I roll and pinch the sensitive buds of her nipples. Teasing them as I grind into her, I force her toward another release, wanting her to come with my cock buried deep inside her. “Come for me again, sweetheart. Come all over Daddy’s cock.”