Instead, his expression turns intense as he tells me, “We’re going anal.”
I jerk and try to step backward, but his hands are on my hips to hold me in place.
Shaking my head, I whisper, “There is no way your dick is going to fit in my ass.”
Jerico laughs lightly and squeezes my hips with affection.
Yes, that was affection from the self-proclaimed hedonist.
“I’m going to start the process of getting you ready I should have said,” he amends.
Jerico leans to the side and grabs something off his nightstand. When he straightens back up, he holds an object up for me to examine.
“So you’re going to use a butt plug?”
“A small one,” he clarifies with a wicked smile. “I promise you it will feel good.”
I study the glass plug, which is no thicker than his index finger and I have to admit, it doesn’t intimidate me. I don’t know if the fact I was able to have dirty sex in front of complete strangers with a man who is a virtual stranger broke something open within me, but I feel this adventurous spirit… Almost as if I’ve been freed from some sort of intangible shackles.
My gaze goes from the plug to Jerico’s eyes, which seem brighter than normal. “Okay. Let’s give it a try.”
Jerico’s hand shoots out to grab me behind the neck. He pulls me roughly to him for a hot, possessive kiss. When he releases me, his voice sounds like pure sin as he says, “Turn around and grab your ankles.”
Adrenaline, fear, excitement, and plain old giddiness course through me.
I turn around, bend at the waist, and grab my ankles.
Trista isn’t the first woman who’s bent over and grabbed her ankles at my command.
But she is the first to induce a wave of lust so shockingly powerful, my balls tighten up in anticipation of an orgasm.
Drawing in a silent but deep breath, I smooth the palms of my hands over Trista’s ass to collect myself. The silkiness of her skin turns me on even more. As I slide one palm down the back of her thigh, I contemplate what it is about this woman that is affecting me differently than others.
There’s no doubt the two orgasms I’ve had with her have been spectacularly better than anything I’ve experienced in a long fucking time. But the question is why?
Trista is beautiful, but that alone isn’t the cause. I’ve had women just as beautiful, if not more so.
Perhaps it’s because of the very thing Kynan pointed out to me.
She’s an innocent.
Not so innocent she’s a virgin, but the world she has stepped inside of is sordid and depraved, and for every experience she has inside The Wicked Horse, a little more of that innocence is being scraped away. I’m a fucker for thinking it, but I might be getting off on teaching her how to push past her normal boundaries.
Trista’s entire body trembles under my touch, I’m sure with a mixture of fear and excitement. I bet she’s the type of girl who would bungee jump off a bridge or go skydiving for the rush. Fear definitely enhances pleasure if it’s done right, and the fact she jumped off a pretty tall bridge by having sex with me in The Orgy Room last night tells me that her adventurous spirit is only growing bigger.
Bringing my palms back to her ass, I use my thumbs to spread her cheeks, lightly stroking the sensitive skin there. She lets out a tiny moan, and I can’t help the smile that comes to my face.
“This won’t hurt,” I tell her softly as I graze the pad of my thumb right over her tight opening. She jerks forward slightly and then pushes back. “But I think you can figure out it will be intense.”
“I can take it,” Trista reassures me.
“I don’t doubt it. But just so you know, all you have to do is say stop at any time and I’ll take it out.”
She whispers just one word. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I mimic her, leaning to the side to grab the lube from my nightstand.
With a practiced and efficient flick of my thumb, I open the tube. Rather than drizzle it over Trista’s exposed ass, I pour it in my palm and rub it together so it becomes warm. Then I use my fingers in between her ass cheeks to massage lightly over her pucker, taking great satisfaction as Trista moans in pleasure.
I take the butt plug, give it a squirt of lube, and then command Trista, “Let go of your ankles and spread your ass for me.”
“Oh, God,” she mutters softly with clear embarrassment but immediately complies.
“Good girl,” I praise her. “I’m going to insert it now, and I’ll go very slowly. Tell me if you want me to stop.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I can see her shaking her head in the negative. What little I’ve come to know about this woman, I know the word “stop” will not push past her lips because I’m not hurting her, nor will I.