Chase by Flora Dain

Kind of cramps my style.’
    His expression hardens. ‘Too bad. That’s how I work.’
    I gaze up at him in despair. ‘Yes, but it’s hardly normal, is it? Most people have fun without an armed guard in tow.’
    His arms wind around my back, then one hand eases down my zipper and the other slips inside my dress and splays out all over my tender rump, where the effects of his spanking are flowering fully under the tight satin. ‘It’s just for a couple of days. And they’re not here now. Or hadn’t you noticed in all the excitement? I like this dress, by the way, but we’re going to have to rearrange it a little.’
    The rearrangement is swift and dramatic. He bunches it round my hips, hauls the top down to pin my arms and lifts me bodily over to the bed. In seconds he’s kneeling over my face, his eyes burning down into me with all the fire he’s kept hidden so long.
    Excitement flares. The pressure at his flies is startling now. I feel an answering pressure down below. With an effort I lean up to try to unfasten him with my teeth, one of my most effective party tricks whenever we reach this point.
    With a grin he pushes me back down. ‘Not so fast, missy. You’ve still got some ground to make up from your schoolgirl antics earlier. I’ll do the honours here.’ He’s smiling as he frees himself. His massive column juts in my face, my doom and my delight, and as he edges it just within reach of my eager lips I lap eagerly, the light scent of his shower gel blending with his body heat in a heady mix that stirs my senses and sends a fierce glow straight to my groin.
    ‘
Whoa
, easy. Leave some for later.’ His voice comes out in a rasp, surprising me a little. Why is he so moved by this? Why tonight? He’s been watching me all evening, like he can’t get enough of me. Now he’s close to the finish line already and we’ve hardly started …
    ‘Lick it a little. All the way. I like to see your tongue. You look like a kitten with cream.’
    I obey eagerly, nervous at first and then eager, thrilling to the salty, silky surfaces he shifts to present to me, making it easier for me to reach. His breath is uneven now as he holds off from release, determined, as always, to make me beg.
    Just when I’m sure he must erupt into orgasm he pulls away with an effort, wrenches my dress a little further down my arms, scoops my breasts out of my lacy bra cups and plunders them with his mouth.
    I writhe below him as he feasts first on one and then the other, his kiss deep and arousing as he fastens on each swollen, stiffening nipple in turn, bringing heat to the surface of my areolae and nibbling my hard, rumpled little pebbles to tight, quivering numbness.
    Pinned and helpless in my bunched satin sheath I can only plead, rigid and inflamed as his eager mouth travels slowly down to my wide-splayed thighs, still sheathed in black nylon, my arching feet still poised in my achingly high heels. With delicate, skin-rippling precision he eases the tip of his tongue under the tight, lacy edge of each stocking-top and licks, leaving a taut, wet trail around the top of each thigh, achingly close to my pulsing centre. With a sound somewhere between a sigh and a snarl he finally lands on my fully exposed, quivering sex and starts to feast.
    I shudder with excitement but his angry look quells me to silence as his tongue-tip works deep into my private places, sending heat and shame through me, equally fierce, equally inflaming. Slowly, tasting as he goes, he makes his way back up towards my face and when he leans back over me I see a glint in his eyes as I hear the rip of foil.
    Focused and stern, he holds my gaze as he plunges inside. Now my rigid position has one big advantage: I’m trussed so tight his thrusting loins ram hard against my pleasure centre at every plunge.
    His expression softens as he pounds. ‘Keep looking at me. I want to see this.’
    He watches my pleasure build. Bliss creeps closer but my pleasure must dawn and