Page 126 of Bid For Me

His hand slips around to cup my chin, tilting my head back slightly. “Trust me, Elle. Let go.”

His fingers skim up my ribs, trailing over the lace of my bra before circling the swell of my breasts. He takes his time, teasing, dragging out the moment until I’m biting my lip to keep from begging.

“You’re trembling already,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble of satisfaction. “Such a sensitive little thing. Is this what you wanted, Elle? For me to touch you like this?”

“Yes,” I whisper, the word catching in my throat as his thumbs brush over the lace-covered peaks of my nipples.

“Not good enough,” he says, his tone hardening, a delicious edge of command. His thumbs press firmer this time, rolling my nipples between the fabric, sending a sharp, intoxicating jolt through me. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me properly.”

“Yes, Sir,” I manage, my breath hitching.

“That’s better.” He slips his fingers beneath the lace, finally finding bare skin. His touch is firm but deliberate, coaxing, teasing, until I’m arching into his hands without thinking.

His fingers pinch, just enough to make me gasp, the sensation sharp and electric, before it melts into something warmer, deeper. My head tilts back, lips parting, a soft moan escaping me.

“That’s it,” he croons, his tone darkly indulgent. “Look at you. So beautiful, so perfect, falling apart for me already.”

His thumbs circle my nipples now, slow and torturous, the pressure building with each deliberate motion. He pinches again, harder this time, and my knees nearly give out, the tension winding through my body like a live wire.

“Do you want more?” he asks, his voice dripping with authority, the command sending a thrill straight to my core.

“Please,” I say, the desperation clear in my tone, my voice trembling with need.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my skin, as he presses a kiss to my shoulder, his teeth grazing lightly. “Then take it.”

The first strike of his hand against my bare skin pulls a gasp from my lips. The sting is sharp but fades quickly into warmth, a heat that spreads through me, igniting something deep inside.

“Again,” I whisper, surprising myself.

His chuckle is dark, low, and full of promise. “That’s my girl.”

The next strike is harder, and this time, I moan, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Seb doesn’t stop, alternating between firm spanks and soft caresses, the rhythm dizzying and intoxicating.

“You take this so beautifully,” he says, his voice a mix of pride and lust. “Do you feel it? The way your body responds? This is you, Elle. This is what you’ve been craving.”

“Yes,” I gasp, the word tumbling out without hesitation.

“Say it again.”

“Yes,” I cry, louder this time, my voice filled with need.

The rope, the spanking, the blindfold – it all blends together, a symphony of sensation that leaves me trembling on the edge.

Seb’s fingers trail over the heated skin of my thighs, his touch feather-light yet commanding, grounding me, even as the world around me dissolves into sensation. His hand cups my breast again, his thumb brushing over my nipple, raw and sensitive from his earlier teasing.

“Feel how your body responds to me,” he murmurs, his voice like a caress, each word dripping with authority. “Every tremble, every gasp. It’s all for me.”

My breath hitches as his fingers pinch harder, the sharp sting a counterpoint to the rhythmic strikes of his other hand against my skin. Each spank sends a wave of heat through me, the line between pain and pleasure blurring until they become indistinguishable.

“You’re so sensitive, Elle,” he says, his tone dark with satisfaction. “Every sound you make, every way your body moves – it’s like you were made for this,”

My body arches involuntarily, seeking him, needing him. I can feel the flush spreading over my skin, a physical manifestation of the fire he’s igniting in me.

“Please,” I whisper, the word breaking on a moan as his fingers tweak and pull on my nipple in a way that makes my head spin.

“Please, what?” he demands, his hand pausing mid-motion.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp, the desperation in my voice raw and unfiltered.