Not Until You: Part VII by Roni Loren Read Free Book Online Page B

and swiped them over my lips, spreading my own taste there, then took my mouth in another heated kiss. I threaded my fingers in his hair and scooted forward, dragging myself along his erection. Everything inside me was already coiling tight. It’d been so long since I’d touched him. I felt starved—each breath, each touch providing the sweet sustenance I’d been craving.
    He pulled back from the kiss, his eyes almost black in the soft lamplight of the hotel room. “God, I’ve missed you.”
    I brought my hands to his jaw, feeling the stubble beneath my fingertips. “Every night I’d crawl into bed to try to sleep, but then I’d remember this, you, and my body would go so hot.”
    His grip tightened on my thighs. “Did you touch that pretty cunt of yours?”
    “Even when I promised myself I wouldn’t,” I admitted, the old flush of embarrassment still rising to the surface at the confession and his crude words.
    “Mmm,” he said, the sound rumbling through his chest. “And what did you imagine I was doing to you, my angel?”
    I bit my lip but refused to let my bred-in shyness rear its head again. “I imagined rough things, your dominance, you tying me up. My skin would actually tingle when I’d imagine your hand or your flogger coming down on me.”
    The look that crossed his face was almost one of anguish. “Christ, Cela, you’re killing me.”
    ***
    The open honesty on Cela’s face was enough to wring the air from his lungs. All the times they were together, Foster had always wondered if maybe she’d only been going along with things to please him, to be experimental. But to hear that not only had she missed him, but had also fantasized about his binding her and bringing her pain, made his heart want to grow wings and zoom right out of his chest.
    He knew he had to be cautious. She said she didn’t have answers tonight. There was still a very real possibility that she could walk away from him. But if he’d had any doubts whether or not she was truly wired for being submissive, he didn’t now. She craved what he could give her. And God knows, he ached for her.
    He pushed her dark hair away from her face. “Turn around and lie across my lap, angel. I don’t need you imagining anymore.”
    Her eyes went half-mast and she eased off his lap, turning to lay herself prone across his knees. Her muscles were already starting to loosen, her mind sinking into the moment. When he had her in position, he tugged down her shorts and panties, leaving them at her knees. Fuck, she was beautiful—full breasts pressed against his thigh, hair hanging down to brush the floor, and the feminine curve of her back and ass there like a feast for him.
    He rubbed a hand along the globe of one cheek, enjoying the silky-smooth skin, then he raised his hand and gave it a swift smack. She reared up, her breath catching, and his cock pressed against the fly of his jeans. The bright pink, five-fingered image appeared on that golden skin. He’d never be able to describe to her what that did to him, to see his mark on her, to know that she craved both his softness and his sting, but it was almost religious for him. He brought his hand down again on the other side and inhaled her reaction—the soft cry, the scent of her arousal drifting upward, the surrender in her stance.
    “Give me a color, Cela,” he said, rubbing his palm along the place he’d hit.
    “Green,” she whispered, squirming a bit beneath his hold. “So very green.”
    He smiled. How far she’d come. From being embarrassed about the smallest desire to begging to be spanked. He couldn’t ever remember seeing something as sexy as this woman taking ownership of her desires. He spanked her with a little more oomph this time and she quivered against him.
    Confident that she was totally with him now, he worked her over, darkening her ass and the backs of her thighs with a pattern of red marks. Her skin began to glisten with sweat, and her moans turned into breathy,