He Pays
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,800
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,800
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
He Pays
Glancing both ways before inserting the room keycard, I turn the handle and quickly enter the room, dropping my bags and shutting and locking the door. In the flickering candlelight and soft music, I exhale in relief that I made it once again, unnoticed, to our oasis of erotic touch.
Turning, he surprises me by swiftly moving and pressing me against the wall, impaling my mouth with his warm lips and tongue. The kiss takes over and I become a pool of liquid heat, living for the feel of his hands running over my sensitized skin, his strong, muscled body pressing against me, his cock throbbing insistently. Reaching for my hands, he meshes fingers with mine and presses my arms against the wall, high above my head. Leaning back, he looks deeply into my eyes, holding me helpless with his dark gaze.
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” His deep, gravelly, voice sends instant thrills up my spine.
Instantly I recall the prior Friday. My hushed, hurried conversation with the hotel clerk to accept some cash towards payment of the room from another guest, our conspiring smiles, my giddy secret. As the male, he expects to pay for the room, always. End of discussion. I decided to trump him. Mostly, because I think it’s not fair that he ALWAYS pay. Partly, because I want to see how he’ll react.
I’m about to find out.
Opening my eyes widely, I respond with what innocence I can muster. “No. Why?”
He holds me, riveted, with sensual, chocolate eyes, curling lashes that must have made all the girls go weak in grade school. I feel certain he can see into the depths of my soul, and I start to squirm. Losing courage, I drop my eyes, certain he sees the telltale blush that creeps into my cheeks.
Glancing over to the bed, I freeze at the sight of the item he brought with him today. A large wooden paddle with oddly shaped holes. He explained at our first meeting the sport he’d used it in. I’ve forgotten. I just remember picking it up and smacking it lightly against one palm and jumping in surprise at the sting. And I remember thinking, God, I hope he never uses this thing on me. As warped as my fantasies get, I don’t think I’d ever want that kind of pain.
Flitting startled eyes back to his, I feel the blood drain from my face at his steady regard.
“Are you sure?”
Feeling my heart move to my throat, I try to speak but emit little more than a dismayed sounding squeak. Trying once more, I manage to whisper, “I paid $50 down on the room.”
He never blinks. His eyes, the laugh lines I love, crinkle, and he presses his forehead against mine, uttering deeply, “I know.”
Pressing his lips softly to mine, he gently undresses me. When the last item drops to the floor, he turns me and places my hands flat on the wall in front of my face. One arm presses my waist to move me slightly away from the wall. A firm hand presses to arch my back. Moving soft lips to my ear, he whispers, “Open your legs, Sweetheart.”
When my thighs clench together in response, he reaches down to slap them apart.
Moving silently away from me, he returns and presses the broadside of the paddle against my trembling flesh. His deep voice rumbles close to my ear. “You will never pay for a room again. Do you understand me?”
His words make me shudder, half in fear, half in desire, and before I’ve had time to form a response, I hear a rush of air and the loud crack of the paddle striking flesh. The pain is instant and intense and I jump and cry out, turning around in shock, my hands immediately going to rub against the offended area. Watching him through a sheen of tears, I hear the paddle drop as he grabs my shoulders and spins me around once more the face the wall.
“Did I tell you to turn around?” Placing my hands flat on the wall once more, I begin to tremble in fear and before I’ve had the chance to voice an apology, the wicked piece of wood hits its mark once more. I jump and begin to cry in earnest.
His lips move softly near my ear. “If you ever try that again, if you ever think of doing that again, I’ll lay this paddle on your sweet ass a half a dozen times. Do you understand me?”
My response comes through choked tears. “Yes, Michael.” I keep facing the wall until he turns me, placing large palms against the wall on either side of my head. He calmly watches me cry for a long moment, before picking me up in his arms and walking to the bed.
“I’m sorry.” I whisper through quieting sobs.
Laying me gently on the bed, he kisses me softly. “I know.”
Turning, he surprises me by swiftly moving and pressing me against the wall, impaling my mouth with his warm lips and tongue. The kiss takes over and I become a pool of liquid heat, living for the feel of his hands running over my sensitized skin, his strong, muscled body pressing against me, his cock throbbing insistently. Reaching for my hands, he meshes fingers with mine and presses my arms against the wall, high above my head. Leaning back, he looks deeply into my eyes, holding me helpless with his dark gaze.
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” His deep, gravelly, voice sends instant thrills up my spine.
Instantly I recall the prior Friday. My hushed, hurried conversation with the hotel clerk to accept some cash towards payment of the room from another guest, our conspiring smiles, my giddy secret. As the male, he expects to pay for the room, always. End of discussion. I decided to trump him. Mostly, because I think it’s not fair that he ALWAYS pay. Partly, because I want to see how he’ll react.
I’m about to find out.
Opening my eyes widely, I respond with what innocence I can muster. “No. Why?”
He holds me, riveted, with sensual, chocolate eyes, curling lashes that must have made all the girls go weak in grade school. I feel certain he can see into the depths of my soul, and I start to squirm. Losing courage, I drop my eyes, certain he sees the telltale blush that creeps into my cheeks.
Glancing over to the bed, I freeze at the sight of the item he brought with him today. A large wooden paddle with oddly shaped holes. He explained at our first meeting the sport he’d used it in. I’ve forgotten. I just remember picking it up and smacking it lightly against one palm and jumping in surprise at the sting. And I remember thinking, God, I hope he never uses this thing on me. As warped as my fantasies get, I don’t think I’d ever want that kind of pain.
Flitting startled eyes back to his, I feel the blood drain from my face at his steady regard.
“Are you sure?”
Feeling my heart move to my throat, I try to speak but emit little more than a dismayed sounding squeak. Trying once more, I manage to whisper, “I paid $50 down on the room.”
He never blinks. His eyes, the laugh lines I love, crinkle, and he presses his forehead against mine, uttering deeply, “I know.”
Pressing his lips softly to mine, he gently undresses me. When the last item drops to the floor, he turns me and places my hands flat on the wall in front of my face. One arm presses my waist to move me slightly away from the wall. A firm hand presses to arch my back. Moving soft lips to my ear, he whispers, “Open your legs, Sweetheart.”
When my thighs clench together in response, he reaches down to slap them apart.
Moving silently away from me, he returns and presses the broadside of the paddle against my trembling flesh. His deep voice rumbles close to my ear. “You will never pay for a room again. Do you understand me?”
His words make me shudder, half in fear, half in desire, and before I’ve had time to form a response, I hear a rush of air and the loud crack of the paddle striking flesh. The pain is instant and intense and I jump and cry out, turning around in shock, my hands immediately going to rub against the offended area. Watching him through a sheen of tears, I hear the paddle drop as he grabs my shoulders and spins me around once more the face the wall.
“Did I tell you to turn around?” Placing my hands flat on the wall once more, I begin to tremble in fear and before I’ve had the chance to voice an apology, the wicked piece of wood hits its mark once more. I jump and begin to cry in earnest.
His lips move softly near my ear. “If you ever try that again, if you ever think of doing that again, I’ll lay this paddle on your sweet ass a half a dozen times. Do you understand me?”
My response comes through choked tears. “Yes, Michael.” I keep facing the wall until he turns me, placing large palms against the wall on either side of my head. He calmly watches me cry for a long moment, before picking me up in his arms and walking to the bed.
“I’m sorry.” I whisper through quieting sobs.
Laying me gently on the bed, he kisses me softly. “I know.”