Page 11 of Over the Line
It had been a long time since she’d been this turned on, and he was driving her out of her mind. “Don’t make me wait, Sir.”
He laughed again softly. “It will be worth it. I promise.”
Deep inside her, pressure thumped in persistent demand.
“Ready for more, Sydney?”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
He slapped her left buttock, then quickly stroked between her legs. The momentary friction drove her mad. Before she could react, he smacked her right cheek then teased her again. On and on he went, relentlessly repeating the pattern, not doing any one thing long enough for her to get off.
What he did instead was set every nerve ending on fire.
As the seconds passed, her resistance receded.
“That’s it,” he said, his modulated, rich voice sounding as if it came from the farthest mountain peak. “Your butt is turning the prettiest shade of pink. Beautiful, beautiful, Sydney.”
Sydney no longer held the bars as tightly, and she didn’t struggle against the ankle cuffs. She didn’t even wriggle her body in an attempt to press her pussy against his hand when he paused there. Instead, she surrendered.
The world seemed to spin backward, and she stopped being concerned that they were out in the open. She no longer noticed her earlier discomfort. In fact, her body felt as if it were weighed down by a thousand stinging sensations.
“Even more?”
“Oh…” She was already delirious.
“We can stop now, and I can give you the orgasm you’ve earned. Or we can continue with my belt.”
Sydney shivered. He’d taken her past the limits of how long she thought she could hold off her orgasm, and the curious part of her wanted to know what else was possible. Tonight—Master Michael—was the adventure she craved. “Please,” she said. “I want more.”
“Please…” he prompted.
Frustrating man. “Please, Sir.”
“To be clear, Sydney, are you begging?”
“Yes.” How long had it been since she’d been this aroused, aware of every muscle in her legs and the throbbing sensation between her legs? “I’m begging. Tell me you’re taking off your belt, Sir,” she pleaded.
“Damn straight, I’m taking off my belt.”
Hunger crawled through her, for the taste of his leather, and for the sight of his naked body. She’d noticed the breadth of him, the long, lean length of his legs and his tight ass. She’d bet he wasn’t a ranch owner who let the hired hands do all the work—the calluses on his fingers proved it. “And your hat?”
“That might happen later,” he told her.
Later.
Earlier, he’d mentioned going to his place, but she hadn’t been convinced she’d accept an invitation. And when he’d mentioned chemistry, she hadn’t argued, even though she believed it was nothing more than a word to make insatiable romantics swoon.
She had planned to live by her personal motto—show up and hook up. She’d mingle, looking for unattached Doms, introduce herself then see if a private room was available.
At this point, however, she wanted to see where the evening might go.
Sydney moaned and writhed when he drew the belt across her shoulders. Now—longing to feel the caressing bite of his leather everywhere—she wished he’d had her remove her dress entirely.
She wiggled around, but he took a step back.
With a sigh, knowing he wouldn’t be rushed, she forced herself to settle again.
The impending orgasm loomed distantly, leaving her edgy.