Page 12 of Breaking Rosalind
I reach between her legs, and my fingers brush against the crotch of her panties. I slide the fabric to the side, exposing her pussy, and am pleasantly surprised to find it’s slick.
“Wet for me, already?” I ask.
“Hardly,” she replies with a snort.
I can’t help but grin. She’s defensive, obviously still stinging from Leroi’s rejection. I can handle her prickly attitude if it gets me what I want.
My fingers explore her swollen clit. I rub circles around it, expecting a gasp or even a moan. Instead, she pinches her lips and rolls her eyes.
Fuck this bitch. She’s getting on my last nerve.
With a snarl, I rip off her panties and slap her pussy. Her eyes widen, and she sucks in a breath.
“You like that?” I deliver another slap.
She bites down on her bottom lip and groans. “Not particularly.”
Triumph fills my chest, and arousal fills my cock. It looks like she doesn’t want to admit that she’s into pain. I can work with this. I can’t remember the last time I had a real masochist.
My hand descends on her pussy again, this time with an extra sting.
She moans, her eyes fluttering closed.
I lean over her and grin. “You’re just a dirty girl who needs to be punished.”
She jerks her head to the side. “You wish.”
I chuckle. “Actually, I don’t give a fuck. You’re going to spread those legs wider for me so I can whip your pussy, and you’re going to love it.”
“Whatever.”
To my surprise, she raises her heels to the desk’s surface and holds her knees open. Her pussy is bare and completely soaked, each delicious fold glistening with her juices.
Arousal floods my cock so quickly the edges of my vision turn black. By the time I steady myself, my mouth waters with the need for more of that sweet, wet cunt.
I curl my fingers and resist the urge to taste. This mouthy bitch doesn’t deserve my tongue.
It’s rare to find a woman who truly enjoys pain. Many pretend they do to impress me or appear edgy, but they balk the moment I take them to the playroom. This one looks like the real deal.
It’s a pity she’s so aggravating.
I unbuckle my belt, yank it out from my pants, and slap the leather against my palm.
Her fingers tighten around her trembling thighs. “Are you going to tease me to death all evening or give me what I want?”
Without even thinking about it, I swing the belt down her pussy with a crack. She flinches, her knees jerking, and hisses through her teeth.
My cock surges, urging me to give her another. “Tell me you love this.”
I deliver another strike that makes her squeeze her eyes shut and gasp.
“Oh, God,” she says with a moan.
“I already told you,” I sneer. “My name is Cesare.”
“Christ.”
The muscles in my jaw tighten, and I exhale through flared nostrils. Fury and frustration coil through my guts, threatening to strike. I’m not surprised Leroi rejected her for someone more agreeable. No woman I’ve ever met has had such power to aggravate a man as much as she excites.