His Little Tart by Sindra van Yssel Read Free Book Online

couldn’t. Why had she told him that? It seemed silly now.
    “You can, if you want to,” she murmured.
    “That’s not asking, love. You have to ask.”
    Her cheeks flushed. “No way.”
    He laughed. “There are other things we can do.” His fingers left her. “Open.”
    She spread her legs farther.
    “Your mouth.”
    Misunderstanding that was nearly as embarrassing as asking for him to fuck her, and she felt her cheeks getting warmer. But she opened her mouth and was rewarded with a taste of sweetness. She breathed in and smelled something familiar, the cream-cheese frosting she used for cupcakes. A moment later, a morsel of cake was placed on her tongue. For a change, she tasted without guilt, savoring it in her mouth, swallowing and opening her mouth for another taste. He fed her, bit by bit. It didn’t quell the desire in her pussy or the ache in her breasts, but it was pleasurable anyway.
    He spread something between her breasts, more icing from a cupcake perhaps, and licked. She leaned back her head and sighed. It felt beautiful. Only one thing would feel better, and she was trying not to think about sex.
    And failing.
     
    Bondage Ranch 4: His Little Tart
    35
    He slid his hands beneath her skirt and up her thighs, and she could think of nothing else. Maybe he’d lose control, forget his promise. Maybe he’d pull her skirt up and her panties down and fuck her hard and fast. She was handcuffed; she couldn’t resist and didn’t want to. She wanted him.
    His reach went almost to her pussy. So close. Then he pulled back and kissed her, his mouth sweet with the tastes of cupcake and icing. She swirled her tongue against his eagerly, tasting, smelling his male scent mixed with her sweet. He moved away and slid his hands forward again. She willed him to push his fingers inside, but when he seemed about to touch her most intimately, he scraped his fingernails lightly down her thighs again, driving her crazy.
    “Please.”
    “Please what?”
    She couldn’t say it. “Please do whatever you want.”
    “You’ve been very good.”
    “Do I get a reward?”
    “You do.”
    His hands left her, and a moment later she was sucking chocolate off his finger again. She wished it was his cock. That wasn’t cruel like ice cream. The chocolate was delicious, but it wasn’t what she wanted. “Please.”
    “Please what?”
    Fuck me. It was on her lips when she heard a woman’s voice.
    “Sorry, didn’t mean to bump you, Sir.”
    “No problem,” said Aidan.
    She’d forgotten where she was for a moment, forgotten all about the crowded room. It all came back to her. She heard the swish of a flogger, smelled paraffin from a candle somewhere. Voices that had been in the background now formed words, even
    36
    Sindra van Yssel
    though those words were quickly forgotten. Her pussy still ached for his touch, but she couldn’t say it. Not in a crowded room.
    “You know, Master Aidan. I’m all yours.”
    “In that case.” He kissed her, long and deep. She responded hungrily, wanting to feel his tongue snake all the way down to her pussy, wanting the kiss to satisfy her need. I can’t beg. I can’t.
    She tried to block out all the other sounds, everything that wasn’t him or her, hoping she could work up the courage to ask him for what she wanted. It took her a second to realize that the beeping she heard wasn’t part of someone else’s scene. His watch. The hour.
    He pulled away.
    “We can go longer,” she said.
    “I’d love to. But I promised you I wouldn’t.”
    “Please?”
    He kissed her lightly. “No, Constance. I’m sure you had your reasons, and I have to respect them.” She felt his hand covering her eyes. “Blindfold coming off, but I’ll let the light in slowly.”
    “Maybe we can go to your room? You have a room here, right?” The whole safety-of-being-in-public part seemed unnecessary now. He’d kept to the letter of everything they’d said. She trusted him.
    “I do. But I promised you I’d