31 Flavors of Kink (12 page)

I watch his reaction, biting my lip to keep from laughing. His lips purse as he studies me. I gulp.
Oh crap.

Two hands slam down on the counter on either side of me. His nose is within inches of mine.

“Lick it off,” he commands.

“Uh-uh.” I look left, then right, see that I’m trapped, and contemplate another dollop of cream. Something in his manner warns me not to.

The mixing bowl is jammed between us. As deliberately as a man disarming a bomb, he takes the bowl from me and sets it aside, then does the same for the spoon.

Slowly he leans in, until his mouth is above my ear.

“Lick it off, and I’ll have mercy on you.” His warm breath sifts over my skin. His cheek rests on mine, and the scent of soap, Nick, and freshly applied cologne tantalizes me.

“Mercy?” The squeak in my voice betrays my nerves. The world lurches downward. “Just what are you planning to…”

I trail off when his hand shoves down my pants and nestles between my legs. “I’m planning to show you why crotchless panties are so appealing.”

There’s nothing between us there—skin on skin.

Old reflexes hit, and I stiffen with anxiety. Then his fingers sweep sideways, brushing over my lower lips at the same time as he closes his teeth on my earlobe. The tiny pain shoots from ear to groin. Arousal flashes through me, and my clit stirs until he releases my ear. Gone. The warmth drains to a flat, dreary nothing.

“Um.” I wriggle and feel his fingers poke around down there again. Nerve-plucking tension is rapidly eclipsing Nick’s seductive ways.

“What?” He nibbles my neck, then draws away to watch me like I’m some scientific project while he fiddles about in my crotch. Not squirming is difficult to do, but I manage to stay still.

“Nothing.” I grope at the sink behind me, searching for the bowl. “This is nice, but…”

“I have another Christmas present for you.” He turns me around to face the sink, then grabs a paper towel from the counter, I assume, to wipe his neck. “Grab the tap and don’t let go.”

My hesitation earns me a swat on one butt cheek. I hold the faucet, wrapping my fingers over one another. This time the tension stirring is the good kind. Nick undoes the tie at my waist. As my pajama pants slide down my legs, the soft cloth feels like a lover’s caress. He holds each ankle to strip the pants from me, then rises to his feet.

I’m naked, or almost, with him behind me. What is he doing? I crane my neck to see.

Though he steps back, he keeps one hand on my butt and traces the edge of the panties where they dive between my legs. “Whoa. That’s more like it.”

Another two smacks vibrate my ass. I gasp, then shudder when he rubs his palms in heavy, hot circles. The way I rise up to his touch is inevitable. I want more and put the tip of my tongue to my lip, ready to plead. The elastic of the panties snaps into my cleft.

“Ow!”

“Nice. They make me want to bite you down here. Makes you look sexy and available.”

Oh. Yes. Damn. I don’t care what the panties do so long as he smacks me again. Or bites me. I hold the tap even tighter, hoping for, at the very least, a nip. But Nick smooths a hand up my side and beneath my top, skimming the undercurve of my breast. The length of his body presses into me. He pinches and tweaks one nipple to hardness.

“Makes me want to fuck you. Don’t let go of the faucet.” Again the low tremor of his voice reaches into me like a minor earthquake.

To my surprise he produces my pajama pants, wraps one leg of the pants about my wrist, winds the cloth about the tap, then around the other wrist, before knotting everything firmly into place.

My heart does an up-tempo cha-cha-cha. I try out the knots with a twisting motion of my wrists, but no matter how I pull, I can’t get loose. Heat surges—my lower body seems plugged into a power socket. Half the fun happens when I realize I’m caught, controlled in an inescapable way—one of those things I’m learning about myself. When Nick molds himself into the contours of my back, slides a hand over each of my breasts, and thumbs my nipples, I let out a long sigh that melts into a moan.

He chuckles, then quickly unbuttons my matching sugarplum flannel top and drags it down my shoulders as far as he can. Cool air teases my exposed flesh. “Got you going now, huh? Let’s see if you like the rest of this present.”

When he pulls out the kitchen utensil drawer and stands there, peering and poking and rattling the contents, I figure this is all impromptu.

Anticipation sings high inside me, and I’m so needy. My body hums for more of whatever he decides to do. But I can’t stop a smart-ass remark. “Lost your way, sir? Need some ideas?” I wiggle my near-naked butt in the air like a red cape before a bull.

His gaze zeroes in on my second-best feature, then on my boobs, so I try wiggling them too. With my hands fastened to the tap, it’s a pretty poor effort.

A strangled laugh erupts from Nick. Triumphantly he holds up a spatula and whips the end back and forth. “How red would you like your ass, honey? Medium rare?”

I clear the tightness from my throat. “Um. Just a little pink?” I ask with hope lilting my voice. The way his eyes darken and his mouth turns up at the corner tells me he has other plans. “Mercy?” I squeak.

He shakes his head. “Too late for that. Though…” He tosses the spatula to the counter, fumbles with his belt buckle, and pulls it through the loops. “I need more practice with this. First course?”

The slap of the doubled-over belt on his palm reminds me of the last time. I want to feel the sting—can imagine the whack and spread of that blissful bite—but I’m equally afraid of what he can do with it.

When he approaches, I’m as quivery as Bambi would be on spotting a wolf sneaking up. Plus I’ve got my hands trapped. But the first touch of the leather on my butt makes me lean my elbows on the edge of the sink, stick out my rear, and bow my head. I wait. My pussy clenches, and I squeeze my thighs.

“Stay still,” he mutters. Having meandered the belt across one cheek and down into my cleft, then across the other cheek, he lifts it away.

The first strike plants on me fast and burning. I yelp, but more from surprise. Five more stripe up and down one side before he whacks the other. Two more power strokes there make me squeak and try to dodge, but he pushes on my lower back.

“Stop moving or I might miss.” Another blow and this time I hear a hiss from Nick. Then silence. Though his hand still pushes at my back, I see him brace his other fist on the counter and lean in. His face is pale, and he breathes deep and fast through his teeth.

Something’s wrong.

I’m still tied to the tap. “Nick?” Nothing.

He bends farther and presses his forehead to the counter. A long groan escapes his lips.

“Nick? What’s wrong? Let me go!” I tug and tug before he interrupts me.

“’S okay.” He pats the small of my back and straightens—even manages a shaky grin. “Just got myself in the balls is all.”

“You
what
?” My chest shakes. I’ve got my mouth firmly closed, but the laughter is bundled up so tight it’s going to come out my ears any minute. I make what could only be described as a snorting sound through my nose, then erupt into hysterical giggles.

His eyes narrow. “Are you laughing at me?”

I bite my lip and shake my head, but it only makes the laughter more obvious. “I…I ca…can’t help it.” I giggle some more until he swipes me with the doubled-over belt, twice. After a squeal, I stop giggling. “Okay! Okay! I won’t laugh!” I bite down on my bottom lip. “I’ll just grin. You sure you’ll be able to…perform, after that?”

He puts the belt down to my right and picks up the spatula and turns it slowly, inspecting it while we stand hip to hip. If this is the end of playtime, I guess I can stand it, though my pussy throbs and I’m so wet the stickiness has reached my thigh.

“I’m sorry I laughed. Are you okay?”

“Honey.” He looks sideways at me. Somehow his expression conveys both dark seriousness and amusement. “You just earned yourself extra punishment.”

“What?” I don’t know if the idea thrills me or scares me.

“How are your hands?”

“Um. Fine.” He’s not letting me go? I eye the spatula. The flat blue end on it looks promising. I can’t help doing a tiny wiggle.

Confidence back in his stride, he goes to the fridge. I hear the slide of the vegetable drawer opening, then closing.

“Nick! Whatever’s in there is for eating. Not…not…”

A grin plastered across his face, he returns and pokes me.

Cold!

“Stop! Nick!” I dodge, laughing, as best I can, but the thing—which turns out to be a cucumber—gets applied to my belly and breasts. He holds me down and slips it along my cleft. “Nick!” He better be joking about where that is going.

“I can’t put it inside your wet little pussy? Stick out your ass.”

I do the opposite. I tuck in, attempting to shield myself from him and his…evil salad ingredients. He steps away and smacks me with the spatula right on the crease of my thigh and cheek.

“Ow!”

His hand gripping my hip also has the cucumber, but at least the vegetable has warmed a bit and is a long way from any orifices. My giggling and wiggling return as he lays a series of fiery smacks all over my butt. There will be marks left, I’m sure. By the umpteenth smack, I’m going hazy, and I arch my back, seeking that odd fusion of pain and pleasure that sits there waiting for me.

Another few swats and he swipes his fingers along my folds, moves some inside, deep, then slips them out and in with my moisture.

“You’re soaked down here,” he says distantly, painting my skin with coolness. I don’t care at all, lost in a foggy land where all is right.

No more smacking. I lean on my forearms as he makes me move my stomach away from the counter. I feel him get down between my legs. There’s a thump as maybe his back hits the cupboard door; then his broad hands are on my thighs, parting me. Heat engulfs my clit.

“Ohh.” I moan and push into his mouth, still with my elbows braced in the sink. My flesh is infused with fire and lust and wet molten lava that seeks out my little clit. It pumps up, filling. Blood. Hotness. Delicious slippery tongue.

The cucumber probes at my entrance. I gasp and squeeze my legs together. “Nick! This isn’t funny anymore!”

His laughter is pure evil. “Oh yes it is.”

I’m in a panic now, pulling furiously to free my arms. I’m going to lodge a vegetable in his ear if he—

Then he pushes it up, up inside until I feel as if I’ll burst. Fuck! I can’t believe he did it.

“Nick! Take it out right now or I’ll—”

A slow vibration startles me to a stop. Wait. A vibrating cucumber? “Wha…?”

With a strangled chuckle, Nick plops the cucumber next to me in the sink. The Throbbinator is in me.

I huff. “Very funny. I so hate you right now. Just wait until I get loose.”

He grips my clit in teeth, and again my rant is cut off. Coldness wars inside with warmth, making me more aware of precisely where he’s put the vibrator. The buzzing rumbles through my flesh to where his teeth and tongue are playing. Nibbling, sucking, and flipping that sensitive part of me from side to side like some appetizer.
Mmm
—nice. But cold. Cold?

“Why is the vibrator cold?” My words come out thick and slow. His tongue deserves a Nobel Peace Prize. Maybe I can forgive him.

“I hid it in the fridge.”

The fridge? A vibrator in my fridge? I swallow my next protest. His tongue, the vibrations, and the strange coldness are together doing glorious things. Complaints can wait. I open my mouth, lower my eyelids, and part my legs farther. He slides the vibrator out to the very tip, then back in, splitting me.

In and out, lick, wriggle of wet tongue, and then I come and come, hurtling into white space. My legs and tummy jerk as I moan at the exquisite explosion of my senses. I settle, slowly, falling almost into the sink with my head lying on my wrists. I pant and recover, listening to the slithery metal sounds of a zip undoing and then the shuffle of Nick shedding his clothes.

“Now,” he whispers huskily at my ear, his hands on my shoulders. “I get to perform.”

At the first prod of his cock at my pussy, I curve my lower back. He slips one of his hands around my chest to cup my breast, while he flattens the other across my tummy, urging me outward until I’m stretched out and exposed. Now he can take me easily. He does so with a single thrust that slides straight in, on target, making me gasp at the sudden fullness. Then a smooth withdrawal—going, going, and gone. I’m empty and aching.

“
Mmm.
” I whimper and wriggle. He drives back in, hot and fast and devastating, slapping into my butt and jarring me forward. Fire flares to life where the belt and spatula hit me.

“Ahh…” The sound eases timidly from my lips.

Nick chuckles and bites the side of my neck, clamping down with teeth as he speeds up the tempo of his thrusts. Faster, harder, shaking me to the core.

I surrender to him, wanting all he can give, giving all that he can take. My legs tremble and wobble. More thrusts and I’m pure melted muscle, breathing hard, hair over my face and the pajama rope bouncing and jerking each time Nick slams in and pulls out.

Just when I think I’m happiest, he slows and fumbles for something on the counter. Half-dazed with pleasure, I spot the Throbbinator disappearing downward. It buzzes to life, and Nick places it over my clit. He resumes his thrusts, steadier now. My clit engorges. One second it’s barely there, but now, oh my God, it’s standing up and begging. More, please, more!

Tension builds within, blossoming stronger. I groan and drag in air. My nipples bunch tighter in the cool air, and the heat in my butt burns higher. I’m pinioned between the humming on my clit, the blunt ram of his cock into my tunnel, the ties on my wrists. The fires spread, twist into one, and tighten. I moan again as my body locks in place, focusing down, thighs straining. Bliss erupts and tumbles through me. Head down, I cry out, shuddering while the orgasm wreaks havoc on my overpleasured body. My knees cave.

Nick doesn’t let me fall. With his arm wrapped under my breasts and a hand at my hip, he thumps his cock up into my still-spasming sheath. Jammed against my ass, he groans and comes.