When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine #2)(72)

“You will paddle yourself ten more times. Count out loud, so I can hear you. I expect it to sting. If I notice the smacks weakening, I will tell you how many more you must take when you finish. Do you understand?”

Arousal flashed through her, electrical in its intensity. Could there be anything more exciting than hearing Lucien instruct her in self-punishment, anything more stimulating than his utter confidence that she would do precisely what he demanded?

“May I . . . may I touch myself now,” she asked, unable to disguise her breathless eagerness.

“You may begin.”

It was excruciating, the anticipation. She was having trouble catching her breath as she propped her upper body on her left elbow so as to better see the profile of her curved, naked bottom. She plunged her hand between her thighs and rubbed slick, hungry flesh. Her phone had never seemed remotely sexy before, but knowing Lucien was listening while she spanked and pleasured herself made the mundane technology incredibly erotic.

She lifted the paddle over her ass.

Smack.

She jumped slightly. In her excitement, she’d landed the paddle more briskly than she expected. Her buttock prickled with mild pain. Her hand moved more strenuously between her thighs. “One,” she called out, remembering what Lucien had instructed.

She paddled her ass again and grimaced. “Two.”

At five, her bottom was starting to burn. Surely Lucien would be pleased, wouldn’t he? She rubbed her clit more rapidly in mounting excitement.

“Are you turning pink?” he asked, his voice sounding slightly hoarser than before, like a rough seduction.

“Yes,” she panted, inspecting her right buttock.

“And hot? Touch your bottom.”

She skimmed two fingertips over the taut skin with the hand that held the paddle, feeling the heat.

“Yes,” she told him, her hand moving even faster between her thighs. He gave a harsh groan.

“Continue,” he said, sounding much less calm than he had earlier.

“Six,” she said between pants as she paddled her ass again. The protesting nerves sent prickles of excitement along her anus, sacrum, and sex. Her * was aflame and drenched. She was going to come . . . very soon. She landed the paddle again with an even louder cracking sound. A puff of air flew past her lips.

“Seven.”

Lucien was masturbating while he listened to her punishment; she suddenly just knew that for a fact. She imagined his fist moving up and down on his thick stalk in a rapid, powerful, pistonlike motion from just below his fleshy cockhead to his full balls, his facial muscles rigid, his eyes hot. She’d seen him do it enough to have the image burned into her brain for an eternity.

She felt herself cresting at the erotic image and moaned out loud. She paddled her bottom briskly again, the flash of pain and the subsequent burn feeding her arousal. “Eight,” she grated out before popping her ass again in quick succession. “Nine . . . oh . . .”

Orgasm loomed. She struggled to stave it off by paddling her smarting ass extra hard, but the burst of sensation only served to send her over the edge.

“Ten,” she managed through a desperate, quaking voice before she groaned in delicious anticipation. She fell back onto the pillows and dropped the paddle heedlessly. Orgasm crashed into her. Her entire arm jerked back and forth as she pressed her hand between her thighs and pleasure swamped her consciousness.

A moment later, she gasped to catch her breath and her sawing arm movements slowed. Distantly, she became aware of Lucien’s voice emanating from her phone.

“Pick up the phone, damn it,” he bellowed.

She followed his instructions dazedly, instinctively drawing the phone near her ear even though it was still on speaker. He must have heard her ragged breathing because he immediately began issuing orders.

“Put the phone right next to your *. Quickly, Elise,” he hissed tersely, his breath sounding nearly as erratic as her own. She rolled onto her back and spread her thighs, then did what he’d said.

“I heard you coming,” he said roughly. “Are you wet?”

“I’m soaked,” she admitted starkly.

“Run your fingers over your *. Play with yourself. Let me hear how wet you are.”

She followed his orders. Sure enough, she was so intensely aroused a wet sound could be heard as she moved her fingers against her satiated, lubricated flesh.

“I can hear you,” Lucien said, and Elise knew he was nearing orgasm by the ragged sound of his voice. She pictured his flexing muscles as he pounded his cock . . . straining. “God, I wish I was there to suck and swallow every drop of you,” he said so quietly but so fiercely that her eyes sprang wide.

She went completely still and listened, enthralled. He grunted, as if he’d just been stabbed by a knife of pleasure. Slowly, she raised the phone to her ear as a taut second of silence was shattered by his sharp shout. Turning the speaker off—feeling closer to him with his voice directly in her ear—she absorbed his every gasp, his every groan as he climaxed.

Every time she was with him, he introduced her to yet another height of pleasure and intimacy. He’d done it again, in spades. How did he do it so effortlessly? So precisely?

She waited, completely satisfied listening to his pants as he recovered from what must have been a powerful orgasm.

“Do you think you’ll sleep well now, Lucien?” she asked quietly when his breathing slowed.