Complete Me(51)

I feel something warm and flat press gently against my rear. The surface is slightly rough, and I cock my head without thinking, trying to figure out what it could be.

“A simple wooden kitchen spoon,” Damien says, as if in answer. “Who knew it could be so tantalizing?”

I feel a rush of cool air when he removes the spoon, but it is gone almost immediately, replaced by the sting of wood against flesh. I cry out, my ass stinging, then immediately soothed by the firm press of Damien’s hand against my rear. All too soon, his hand is gone, and he swats me again—not too hard, but hard enough that it feels as though a million pinpricks of pleasure are rushing to the spot.

I squirm a bit, wanting more. Wanting the pain to center me—and wanting Damien to launch me off into the stars.

“That’s it, baby,” he says. “You’re glowing, but your ass is on fire.”

I can’t speak. I just want more. But I’m not expecting the next blow—not on my ass, but on my sex. One light, upward thrust with the back of the spoon, barely brushing my clit. But it sets off little sparks inside me. Then another spank, this one firmer, and I cry out as I come closer to the edge. I bite my lip, wanting another—just one more. One more to take me over.

But instead of the thwack of wood against my sex, there are Damien’s fingers inside me, Damien tugging the pearls. I arch up and cry out in surprise and release as he draws the pearls out of me, each tiny round bead rubbing against my sensitive clit. Each pearl heightening the sensation. Each millimeter sending me spiraling off until a cry is ripped from my throat and my body bucks and quakes, unable to withstand the force of the ecstasy that is spinning out of control inside me.

“Oh, yes, baby. Yes—”

And then I hear the soft thud as the pearls fall to the floor. I hear the brush of material against flesh as Damien steps of out his jeans. I feel his hands stroke my hips, my ass. Then his fingers are inside me, opening me, readying me—though that’s hardly necessary at this point.




I suck in a breath and moan with pleasure as the head of his cock presses against my folds. He thrusts forward, entering me, going deep, so deep that it feels as though this will never end, that we will tumble off into each other.

His hands release my hips and he leans forward to cup a breast with one hand, the pressure of his fingers on my nipple as he moves my body back to his in time with his thrusts, so that it is as if we are wrapped in a web of current, sizzling and alive.

His other hand reaches around, finding my overly sensitive clit. He strokes me ever so lightly until all I know is a bone deep pleasure, so consuming that I lose all sense of where the sensations come from, but know only that they are there. That I am pleasure. That I am electricity. That I am Damien’s.

The second orgasm hits me just as fast. It’s an explosion, and I cry out, my body contracting around him, the touch of his finger against my clit now so intense it borders on pain. He doesn’t relent, though. Instead he draws it out and out and out, until his own release comes even as my body is still quivering and shaking—and if I weren’t tied to the pillar, I would surely be collapsed on the ground.

“Damien.” It’s all I can say. It’s enough.

“Shhhh.” He unties my hands, but doesn’t remove my blindfold. Gently, he carries me into the bedroom and lays me on the bed.

“I want to see you,” I say, as he begins to trail slow kisses up my body.

“You see me better than anyone,” he says, then gently removes my blindfold. I open my eyes to find Damien smiling down at me, and all of my own emotions are reflected there on his face. He kisses me, deeply and gently, his mouth claiming mine.