Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(106)

Beau pushes in deep with a rumbling groan, and I look up at him pleadingly.

His tongue teases his lower lip, and his expression becomes pained. “Fuck me. Those eyes of yours, darlin’. I like it when you beg me.”

I run my tongue along the root of him, flattening it along the underside of his length, and his head drops back.

He pulls back and then pushes in again with a short, chastising thrust. “You like having my cock in your mouth? I’m going to spill inside you, darlin’, and you can have every drop. I’ll smear it all over your tongue so you can taste me all the way home.”

I moan then, growing wetter. As I do, a hand crashes down hard on my other ass cheek, and the unexpected pain sends me rocking forward. I choke on Beau’s dick, and he clutches me tight against him, letting the contractions in my throat work over its tip.

Tears leak from my eyes and, desperately, I suck in air through my nose, whimpering as Dom’s calloused hand soothes over the sting. Then, as if to mock the moment of tenderness, he rakes his nails over my ass, adding a new scorch of pain over the easing prickle.

Beau pulls back, yanking my head off him. Saliva clings to my mouth, and I only just stop my hands flying up to wipe it away. I gasp for air.

“Hmm. I still don’t hear—”

“One!” I cry out, and my voice is hoarse, maybe from shouting, or crying out, or maybe just from strangling on Beau’s dick.

“One!”

“One what?” Dom’s voice is unbearably patient and the warning in it makes me quake.

“One . . . spanking?”

Dom’s hand comes down on my tender flesh again. “Try again. We’re still at one.”

Panic shimmers beside desperate need, and I don’t know if I want to shy away from the blinding pleasure-pain he’s delivering or melt into it.

“One, ah, one . . . um.” Shit, shit. I tense, readying for another blow.

Beau runs his thumb along the sensitive column of my throat and whispers, “Bit of respect might do you some good here, darlin’.”

I blink, dazed. “One, sir! Sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Spoilsport,” Dom mutters. His fingers track so lightly against my hot, stinging skin that goosebumps race down my spine.

“The ‘thank you’ is nice, though.”

I heave a sigh of relief. “Yes, sir. I’m so—”

I’m cut off with a squeak as the next spank comes out of nowhere, lower this time, right above the seam between my thigh and ass.

“Two, sir. Th-thank you, sir,” I stammer out.

Breathing through the bright, radiating sting, I wait for the ache to settle in and bring that delectable flush of heat. Before it does, he strikes twice more in quick succession against the middle, meaty flesh of each cheek.

“Ow!” I yelp and tears leap to my eyes, even though I don’t feel like crying again, not really. Dom’s hand pushes down on the small of my back until I arch again, keeping my wet folds presented to him. I feel them part and want nothing more than for him to bury himself inside me.

The sharp pain is blurring at the edges, mixing with the older hurts, layers of stinging and aching and delicious heat that licks across my skin. It’s lighting me up, making me airy and breathless, and I curve into the callouses on his hand, wanting him to scrape me with them again. “Three, sir, thank you. Four, sir. Thank y—”

Beau’s erection shoves between my lips, catching me by surprise. I instinctively press my tongue against him to push him out, but he ignores me, rocking in more deeply and holding me in place by my hair. His warm, masculine taste fills my mouth, and I relax around him, sucking on him to drag out more of that wonderful flavor.

Two dicks. I have to remember there are two. They’re both so distracting, I keep losing myself to one, then being surprised when the other claims back my attention.

“Don’t you dare.”

Beau drags himself out of my mouth and then slams back in, rough but not so deep that I gag.

“Forget.”

He thrusts in and out again. He swells against my tongue as he claims me.

“About.”

His shaft stretches my lips. My mouth waters, and I can’t spare the air to swallow, so my saliva soaks him on his backslide, making us sloppy and wet and messy.

“Me.”

Burying himself deep, he grinds against my mouth, and my nose tickles against the small, coarse hairs at his base. He’s at my throat now, and he works himself against me. Tears do spill over now, but I’m flying high on his taste and smell and the raw, coarse way he’s using me for his pleasure.

Forget about Beau? I’d sooner forget to breathe.

Just as I’m about to gag, he pulls free, and Dom’s hand slaps down again, hard. I gulp down air around a sob. Beau tilts my chin to study my face, but my mind is frantic.

Oh shit, what number am I up to?

Dom’s hand lifts, readying for the next smack that will take me back to one.

“Five! Thank you, thank you, sir. It’s five.” My breath hitches tearily. Ten more to go, I think, heart tangling somewhere between sinking and soaring. I look up at Beau through my tearstained lashes. “Thank you, Beau.”

Beau runs the backs of his fingers over the damp tracks on my cheeks, then lingers against my abused, saliva-slick lips, dipping in to caress the silky inside. “You dangerous thing.”