Heroine: Jolene. A shy insulated college graduate with extreme anxiety disorder whose come to Boston to find work.

Hero: Matthew. A neurobiologist with control issues who uses BDSM as an outlet.

I’ve put under spoiler tag as it’s pretty explicit.

[spoiler show=”SPOILER-NSFW”]He leaned across the couch, took the mug out of my hands, and set it on the coffee table, then he pulled me down by the hips until I was on my back underneath him.

“Oh.” My cheeks flushed. “What do you want right now?”

“Do you have anywhere to be today?”

“Nope.” I grinned.

“Good girl.”

He slid his hands over my skin under his T-shirt and kissed the sweet spot where my neck and shoulder met. “I want to fuck you on this couch, then we’ll have breakfast.” He punctuated his words with nips of my flesh from my shoulder to my jaw. “Then I might fuck you again before I take you home.” The last he whispered in my ear, sending shivers racing up and down my spine.

“I think that sounds like an excellent plan, sir.”

He laughed into my neck. “I’m glad you agree.” He abruptly lifted himself off me and stood. “Stay put,” he ordered and jogged down the hall.
I giggled at his retreating back. When he returned, he was completely naked but for a wolfish smile, and carrying a strip of condoms. Ambitious.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear that, Jolene,” he growled and flipped me onto my stomach.

He tore open the packet and I heard the crinkle of latex as he rolled the condom down over his cock. He leaned over me and the heat of his chest radiated over my back through the thin cotton of his T-shirt. He pulled away and pushed the shirt over my head, then gripped my panties in both hands and roughly pulled them down over my legs before pressing a hand to my throbbing, needy pussy.

He slipped two long fingers inside me and hummed. “So responsive. Do you like this? Giving yourself over to me?”

With his clever fingers dancing on my nerve endings, I couldn’t find the words to agree. I mustered an inarticulate moan. He removed his fingers and gave me a sharp slap on the ass. “Answer me.” He returned his fingers to my sex, working in slow, firm circles around my clit.

“Yes, sir,” I huffed before being reduced again to wordless babble. He teased me until I was quivering right on the verge of coming, then took his hand away and positioned himself to enter me.

“You don’t come without permission, understood?”

Not answering would get me another smack on the ass. I was so wound up, torn between chasing the orgasm he’d been on the verge of giving me and the buzzing, needy heat that last smack had left on my skin, I seriously had to consider what I wanted, a spanking or a fucking. In the moment I had to choose, I decided I wanted the fucking more, and choked out a shaky, “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He growled deep in his throat as he slid into me. His palms held me down at the hips and pushed me into the couch as the tips of his fingers found purchase along the crests of my pelvis.

My pussy was almost unbearably full in that position with his cock buried to the hilt. He gave me time to adjust before he began to thrust. He started slowly, with long, smooth strokes that made me whimper and moan and wriggle my hips trying to achieve more friction. He was going to reduce me to begging for it. Again.

It didn’t take long before I started whining, “Please. Please, sir.”

“Please what, Jolene?”

I groaned but couldn’t form words.

“Please what, Jolene? For a girl with an English degree, you’re not being very good at using your words.”

How is he making jokes right now? I moaned and mumbled, “Please,” into the cushions some more, but it didn’t satisfy him.

“Say the words, Jolene. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.” He slowed the pace of his thrusts to a crawl, teasing me with every inch of his cock from root to tip in a maddening display of control. “Tell me you want me to fuck you, Jolene. Tell me you want to clench your sweet, little cunt down around my cock while you come for me.”

How he expected me to respond coherently to the magnificent filth coming out of his mouth, I don’t know. “Please, please fuck me, sir.”

“What else, Jolene?” He pushed into me harder, but with no more speed.

He was going to make me say all of it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please fuck me, sir. Please fuck me so I can clench my cunt around your cock while I come.”
It was enough. As soon as I got the words out he shifted his hands to my shoulders, using my body for leverage to piston into me. I arched my back into his thrusts as his cock stroked in and out of me over and over until my muscles started to tense and ripple, hurtling toward an orgasm. Almost at the point of no return I remembered his injunction against coming without permission and cried out, “So close. Please, please, please, please.”

“You can come, Jolene.” He tucked a hand under me and found my clit. My body went rigid, teetering on the precipice. “You can come right…now.”

He pinched my clitoris between his thumb and forefinger, and I screamed into the couch cushion. I did, in fact, clench down around his cock, hard enough that he came with a yell before he collapsed on my back.

I don’t know how long we lay like that, me with my face pressed into the couch and Matthew sprawled over me, breathing into my neck, but I mumbled and snuffled in protest when he finally moved to get up and go to the bathroom.[/spoiler]