Page 154 of Wicked Little Secret
But it doesn’t matter—I feel her body shudder even at the merest intrusion.
“You might like this more than you let on, Miss Oliver. You’ve had the medium before. Let’s see how you do having it in you during more intense play. Remember the safe word. You speak it, it stops. But at what costs? Are you willing to lose?”
“I… I don’t… I never lose,” she huffs out stubbornly.
“Good girl.” I lean forward to press my lips to the back of her bare shoulder. “But don’t forget to breathe. This will still be a lot to take.”
Holding the silicone butt plug in hand, I begin pressing it against her tight little entrance. It’s tapered in shape, with a special feature that I haven’t yet used, though I will tonight.
Nyssa groans at the feel of it. Her body tenses up and she bites into the pillow she’s propped up on. I hold her still, one hand on her lower back, the other easing the plug into her rear puckered hole.
The tight ring of muscle widens to allow the tip in. I pour some more lube and slick another inch in. The musclegives way to let it in, swallowing up the silicone toy ’til it’s deeply embedded inside her.
Arousal courses through me. My cock twitches in my pants.
Just the erotic sight of watching it disappear into her is enough to make me hard. Admiring how the handle of the plug sticks out between her ass cheeks is enough to make me come.
I’m practicing discipline, keeping composure. Instead, I squeeze an ass cheek and bow my head to kiss the other.
“How does that feel, Miss Oliver? Too much?”
“Would it matter?” she asks breathily. “I’m not quitting, and you’re not stopping. So what does it matter if it is?”
“Very mouthy of you. Are you angry with me?” I ask in mocking.
Her expression tightens, eyes opening for a glare. “You can play these games all you like. I still want nothing to do with you after this. If you think I’ll forgive you for being Valentine, you’re mistaken.”
Anger shoots through me as quickly as arousal had. I clench my jaw and grip the bottle of lube so hard in my hand it would shatter if made of glass. Nyssa’s pushing my buttons; she’s intentionally trying to rile me up.
Almost as if she wants me to unleash myself on her. She craves it.
“Up on your hands and knees,” I command, pivoting toward the desk. “Now. No talking.”
Nyssa obeys with the petulance of a child. Again, a strategy of hers where she makes it known she’s pissed off and hates me.
It doesn’t really matter. I’m more than happy to dole out some punishment.
Two more items are retrieved from the desk. BeforeNyssa can glance to see what they are, I’m covering her eyes with one of them.
The leather mask that takes away her sight. She flinches as I pull it over her, clearly startled by yet another disadvantage working against her.
The other item is the paddle that she brought to Jackson Wicker’s that night.
I beat it against the palm of my hand as I pace back and forth in front of the bed.
“There’s so much you don’t know, Miss Oliver,” I say in deep thought. “Where to even begin?”
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing you can say changes anything!”
SMACK!
I swat the wooden paddle hard against the curve of her ass in warning. She jerks in place, surprised by the sudden reprimand.
“Didn’t I tell you no talking?” I ask, pacing some more. I stop to go for a second blow, swatting the paddle into her backside. She releases a shaky breath in answer. “This isn’t the time for you to speak. This is the time for you tolisten.
“I should’ve known from the first time I ever saw you—the day of the year one orientation—that there was something different about you. I suppose I did know in a way. There was a reason I couldn’t throw away that damn note. Some reason I stayed to chat when I saw you at the art festival. But that was nothing compared to what came after. I followed you home.”
I give her another harsh spank with the wooden paddle, enjoying how she sways in place. How the plug entrenched in her ass remains firmly planted inside.