Hungry for More by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Author:Rachel Kramer Bussel
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781940550084
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

REDRAWING THE LINES

Bren Emile

Are you sure about this?” They’re nearing the point of no return, and the palm she has wrapped around the crop’s handle is sweaty.

He rolls his eyes at her. “Yes. And just so you know, the next time you ask? My answer is still going to be yes. Just like it was the last three times.” He shifts on the bed, moving into as comfortable a position as he can manage. She resettles herself, sitting astride his narrow hips, staring down at him. She’s wearing her black lace panties and a red bra; both are favorites of Brandon’s. She’s got her hair down; it tumbles in tangles down her back. She knows that he likes her hair; he’s told her that he likes feeling it slide through his fingers, likes tugging on it as if they were back in kindergarten when love was as simple as a pulled pigtail.

He can’t tug on her hair now; she let it down just to tease him.

He can’t tug on it now, because she’s tied his hands and legs to the corners of the bed and strapped him tight. Their double bed is old, but at least it doesn’t creak. They bought the under-the-bed bondage straps two weeks before and they’ve been tucked away in her closet since then, like a Christmas present waiting to be unwrapped. Her lace panties rub against the hard line of his cock when she shifts her hips. It’s obvious he’s enjoying this—enjoying the view, enjoying the sensation, enjoying the anticipation. Her own enjoyment is tinged with apprehension. She’s probably more afraid than he is. She adjusts her grip on the riding crop. It’s brand new; she’d taken the tag off right before climbing on the bed. She runs it through the fingers of her free hand. Brandon’s wide eyes follow her movements. She watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“Ready?” she asks. He nods.

She’s nervous the first time she hits him. She worried about the angle and the force and the timing, but when his body jolts underneath her—an involuntary reaction to pain—her cunt clenches. There is something automatic in her pleasure, something instinctual in her response. An ache she’s never felt before has settled itself inside of her.

“How did it feel?” She hadn’t hit hard enough to leave a mark, but she hadn’t expected to yet. On their one-year anniversary, he’d asked her to leave a hickey on him, and she’d sucked on his collarbone until she felt like a vampire, just to give him a mark that would last longer than a day. His eyes are open wide and she thinks that if she bites him now, hard, it would leave a deeper, lasting bruise; she wonders how hard she’d have to hit him so that the marks will be there when the sun rises.

“You already know how it feels,” he says. And he’s right, she does know, kind of. She’d tried the crop on herself in the store and again at home, learning the feel of it, adjusting the force.

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