Page 12 of Over the Line
She was more than ready when he landed the first two strokes across her buttocks. Her skin was already warmed from his earlier squeezes and spanks, and these new strokes seared her skin.
Although he was nowhere near her pussy, arousal returned full force.
“Thrust your ass out for me. And keep it there.”
Before he was done speaking, she presented her rear end as much as possible. Tur-tle.
“That’s it.” He laid several more strokes across her heated body, turning her inside out.
“I feel as if I’m going to come, Sir,” she told him.
“If you can, please feel free to do so.”
She tried to squeeze her legs together, needing just a little pressure, but he’d been clever in his restriction.
As he increased the intensity behind his swings, she cried out. This was exactly what she’d been seeking.
Despite her best intention of staying in one position, the force of his blows made her sway. But within moments, it was as if they’d found a rhythm that worked for both of them.
“Red is my new favorite color,” he told her. “And now to add some to the backs of your thighs.”
She’d been certain it couldn’t get any better. But it did.
He used infinitely less pressure on her legs, but the lashing was just as exquisite.
Slammed against the railing by his relentlessness, she loosened her grip and allowed herself to move freely.
She wasn’t sure how long he continued—all she knew was that she was no longer thinking about anything but the moment. Being halfway upside down combined with the Den’s mountainous elevation caused a mild oxygen deprivation, leaving her unable to speak.
For the first time in a scene, she wasn’t trying to set the pace or manipulate her Dom. She’d turned over control.
Several moments later, she registered the fact that he’d stopped.
Her heart rate increased, and she blinked, trying to clear her mind.
“You did well,” he said.
He cupped her heated pussy and squeezed.
“Sir…” The word was a moan wrapped in a breathless plea.
“Now I’ll help you to come,” he said, scraping her clit with a fingernail.
As if she were flying apart, she trembled.
Relentlessly, he persisted, inserting a finger inside her, fucking her with his hand while putting pressure on her clit. He kept it up until she was shaking, her hips jerking.
Orgasm after orgasm claimed her. And when she was convinced she had nothing left, he abraded one of the welts on her left buttock.
She arched her back, pushing away from the fencing, allowing him in deeper, and unintentionally increasing the force of his touch against her clitoris.
Reeling, she shattered once more. He’d left her breathless, overwhelmed, more satisfied than she’d been in months, if not years.
Her body was drenched in sweat, and her thoughts were scrambled as she gasped for air.
“You’re about warmed up,” he said.
Warmed up? Her knees sagged.