Bought By The Billionaire - BDSM 18 novel Chapter 71

“Master, you do not owe excuses for her behaviour…”

He exhales. “I don’t, no. But then again, I do.” He scrapes fingers back through his hair. “I should have told you…”

“Grace filled in some of the blanks for me.” I smile, wiggling my brows to take the sting out of my words.

He looks down. Looks up. “Which blanks?”

“That Irene led you up the garden path while it suited her. Then slapped you down when it didn’t.”

His breathing grows harsh again, his face reddening. “Elizabeth…”

I set paired fingers over his lips. “Master, when you and I first met, when you offered me your contract, you told me that the reason you were doing it was because of predatory women. I met Adele. I know there have been others. Irene is just another of the type. If she treated you badly when you were too young to know how to deal with it, then you’re the lucky one. You’re out of it. You’re not married to her. She’s someone else’s problem. Not yours. Not mine. Your friend, Jack... Well, he’s a grown man. He has to live with her.”

He eases, my touch on his lips becoming his kiss to my fingers. He leans forward, resting his forehead against mine.

He leans back, mischief dancing a jig. “I still think I owe you more of an apology than you’ve had...”

… and he surges forward…

“We don’t need that...” Unceremoniously, he tugs at the negligee, tugging at bowed laces, stripping it back from my shoulders and off…

“… Or those…” With a snap, my bra is removed…

Then, dragging at my panties. “Naked is how you should be.”

“Yes, Master.”

Removing the last of my clothing, inside, I Whoop!

This is how it should be…

Grabbing me, almost manhandling me, he rolls me over, then shoves me to all fours. His voice rasps. “Knees apart.”

I barely need the instruction as his own knees push in, levering mine open, wedging my thighs apart.

A palm flat between my shoulders, he pushes me down, my face pressed sidelong against the mattress. But looping the other hand into my hair, he winds in tight, gripping in, arching my neck back.

“Ass up,” he growls. I lift my hips, arcing my spine. Abruptly, the tension on my scalp dissolves, my hair released. The pressure behind my shoulders vanishes, both replaced by a hand gripping me at either hip.

Angling my body, he pulls up and back on my pelvis, his shaft nuzzling behind me... The slight pressure of his cockhead rubs as he moors himself against my sensitising entrance. Something soft brushes my calves and feet. His robe perhaps.

Despite the heat of his body so close to mine, the skin of my thighs shivers and quivers. Inside, my muscles skip and dance then, as he nudges closer, ripple at my belly wall.

I exhale, long and slow as he opens me, edging inside, then withdrawing again…

“Breathe.” A single word. Raw… Harsh…

And utterly beguiling.

I draw air, then expel it once more as penetrating again, now more deeply, his thick shaft stretches me. My core melts as he fills me, heating and liquefying…

The hard edge to his voice softens. “Good girl. That’s it…”

Another withdrawal. And a re-penetration. And now, my Master fills me completely, the heat of his flesh matching my own as he presses hard to me, his thighs against mine. The slight roughness of his groin to the smoothness of my ass. And he holds, unmoving.

My breath catches and shudders. Inside, my flesh flutters, dancing around his, my arousal brimming as he teases, flirting with my pussy. He’s doing it deliberately, I know. Making me wait. But his breathing is unsteady.

Without warning, he withdraws, then rams home, knocking the air from my lungs and a wild sound from my throat…

… a single stroke…

… and once more, he holds…

Then, another thrust. Ramrod hard. Spearing me. Skewering me.

As I cry out, the hands release me at the hips, one arm instead looping around my waist, the other wrapping around to lie between my breasts, both tugging me upright onto my knees.

Upthrusting, buried deep inside me, he pinches at a nipple, twisting hard, wrenching another cry from me. And lower, fingers scissor down and in, parting my folds, slipping around my clit. A thumb, already slippery as I spill hot and liquid, pulls back the hood, exposing my bud to the onslaught of his fingers.

The pain at my nipple shocks down, spiking into my already molten pussy. I would jolt, but my Master holds me in an iron grip. He arcs his face close to mine, his whispered words loud so close to my ear. “Good, my Love?”

“Oh, God, yes…”

“Let’s see if we can do better than good.”

Fingers still assault my clit, but the palm shifts. Flat against my belly, it presses hard, but behind me, my Master moves, grinding in, rotating his hips, the exquisite hardness of his penis corkscrewing into my G-spot. Robbed of my voice, I can only gasp and whimper and shudder.

The Rush is coming. The heat inside. The pressure like no other. Welling up from somewhere deep. Like heat. Like electricity. Like tension. It radiates from my core, swirling out, winding and twisting as my Master winds and twists his body into mine.

The heat soars. The electricity sparks and fizzes. The tension hums like ropes vibrating in the wind.

My climax mushrooms, then skyrockets, then starbursts.

My body tries to break free, tries to buck and spasm, but the grip around me tightens, and the relentless winding pressure inside me only surges. Harder. Faster. More powerful.

Pulse upon ecstatic pulse undulates through me, taking my mind and my sight with it.

I think I’m screaming.

I’m not sure…

Until… “Enough! Enough!. Stop, Master! Please stop!” Instantly, the hand withdraws from my stomach, releasing the pressure on my pummeled insides and twitching, still palpitating, clit. The arm supporting me at the waist remains, simply slackening a little.