Chapter Twenty-Seven - Diane

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

DIANE

I'm tender from his cock. He feels big and hard and hungry inside me. It scratches an itch I've had since we first slept together. He can do whatever he wants with me; I just want to ache tomorrow.

"Go on, get on your knees," he says. "I thought you were a good girl."

Those words in that deep voice make me scramble to my knees on the bed. The corner of his mouth jerks up.

"I can't put my name on you," he says, cocking his head. "If I could, I'd make good on my threat to brand your ass. But that doesn't mean I can't put my name in you."

I do a double take, wide eyes following him as he goes to the closet. When he returns, he carries a box that he places on the dresser. He takes something out and tosses it onto the quilt.

A little bottle of lube. A glass bulb with a silver flared top.

My stomach swoops. I know what that is, and I know where it goes. My mouth is dry as I lick my lips, watching him closely. He uncaps the bottle, spills the lube into his palm, and rubs it over the plug.

"On your knees, darling," he says. "Face in the bed, ass up."

"Is your…name on that?" I whisper, hesitating .

He flips it over, revealing the top. It's silver and adorned with what looks like a brand. The letters are in black: WRQ.

"You made that for me." I look up at him.

"All of it was made for you," he says, kneeling one leg on the bed. "There seems to be some dispute over who you belong to, and I intend to put that to rest."

I'm hot all over, unable to speak. No one has ever wanted me the way Westin does. It leaves me breathless.

"Palms on the bed," he says.

I obey, spreading them and sinking down to my elbows.

"That's a good girl," he rumbles. His fingers work the lube over my asshole, making my face burn.

He doesn't have any shame when it comes to sex. I'm sure tonight is just the tip of the iceberg.

I shiver. Deep inside, I want to know just how far he's willing to go.

His fingers work over my sensitive opening. The tip dips in. I bite my tongue and close my eyes. His other hand rests on my hip, holding me in place as he works the tip of the plug against my opening.

"Relax, darling," he says, kneading me with his fingers.

I focus, trying to obey. He pushes, and there's a split second of pain, and then it's inside me, bigger than his finger, but less intrusive. Maybe it's because it's smooth and he's rough. Experimentally, I wriggle my hips, and the plug rubs against all the right places.

He bends over me. "Does it feel good?"

I nod. He nuzzles his face into the back of my neck.

"Sit back on your heels," he says, moving off me.

I obey and he rumbles his approval. "Now, put your palms on your thighs, upward facing. Good girl. Open your mouth."

Tentatively, I obey. He took something else from the closet—a little velvet bag. From it, he pulls a strip of leather with a metal buckle.

It's a ball gag .

My thighs tense. My pussy responds, already dripping from the plug. He kneels one leg against the edge of the bed, brushing back my flyaway hairs.

"If you need out, you hit my arm or leg," he says. "I'm going to ease you in, so no hand restraints this time."

So it gets worse?

My mouth is open, but somehow, my jaw drops as he dips the ball gag between my thighs. I feel it, round and smooth, against my pussy. He drags it up over my clit, back and forth. His head dips, and he captures my nipple between his teeth and flicks it with his tongue.

Oh God. My body quivers.

"Keep your mouth open." He moves to my other nipple. "It's alright to drip a little."

His voice is hoarse, sitting low in his chest. The ball gag moves over my clit in slow circles. My mouth starts salivating as soon as I start thinking about it, but I don't pull my tongue back. It drips down between my breasts. He licks it off my skin.

His eyes dart up, intense, impossible to read.

The gag moves faster. The pressure increases.

"Come for me, you pretty slut," he breathes. "You can do it. Give me one more."

He takes my nipple in his mouth and grazes it with his teeth. Heat plummets through my veins. My body coils and releases so fast, all I can do is let out a sharp cry as I come. He moans, pushing the gag up against my pussy so I can ride it.

I can hear how soaked I am.

Pleasure ebbs, leaving me hot and shaky. He lifts his head and sits up, pulling the gag from between my legs.

"Good girl," he says.

I nod, but before I can speak, he slips the gag between my lips and fastens it beneath my hair. The taste of what he did to me blossoms over my tongue: sweet, with a slight tang and a hint of his cum. I try to swallow as I start salivating, but the gag blocks me. Wetness slips from the corner of my mouth and etches down my neck .

His eyes drag over me, drunk with lust. "Fuck, you're such a sweet girl. Look at you."

I blink my wet lashes, tongue pinned down by the gag.

"Do you want to see yourself?" he asks.

I feel my eyes widen. Before I can nod or shake my head, he picks me up and carries me to the far side of the room. I didn't notice it before, but there's a full-length mirror with a wooden frame in the corner. He sets me down and locks an arm around my chest to hold me steady.

My cheeks flush dark pink.

I've never seen myself like this…so raw and vulnerable.

He takes me by the braid and drags my head up to look into his eyes. "It's no fucking wonder I'm obsessed with you, darling."

My chest aches, but in a way that I hope it never stops. His fingers close at the base of my neck. His mouth brushes my forehead.

"I want you to be mine," he says. "I'm going to get you back, Diane, and then I'm going to put a collar around your neck and keep you forever."

My eyes go wide. I'm not positive what that means, but I get the sentiment behind it. It somehow feels more life altering than when he said he wanted to marry me.

I wonder if he put a gag in my mouth to keep me from protesting.

I don't have time to mull it over, though, because he picks me up and carries me back to the bed, spilling me onto my hands and knees. His weight sinks the mattress. His tongue, hot and demanding, slides over my pussy, eating it from behind like he's starving.

The world shifts. This man is altering my brain chemistry.

My toes curl, and I'm whimpering around the gag as I come again, my breath stolen by the wave of pleasure that moves through my hips. His hungry tongue pushes into my pussy before stroking down to my clit. I waver, unable to hold myself up anymore.

His fingers work at the base of my neck. The ball gag falls from my lips.

"I want to hear you fucking scream," he rasps .

He digs both hands into my hips, and I have a second to brace myself before his cock slams into my pussy. It's tight, so tight that I do exactly as he says and scream, shocked by the intrusion.

"Fuck, that's right," he pants.

He slams the bed against the wall, and I cry out again, vision flashing. God, he's going to break me into a thousand pieces. There's no room; it's too much.

Something buzzes down below. Did he have a vibrator on the bed? I can't remember. All I know is it's on my clit and I'm shaking. He fucks hard and slow, using all the strength in his powerful body.

"Good girl. Come for me," he breathes. "You come on my cock, come until you can't come anymore."

Obediently, I come because I can't hold back. He fucks me through it, breath hot on my shoulder. The vibrator stays on my clit. When I try to squirm away, he spanks my thigh.

That only makes me come harder. I'm wrung out like a dishrag when another orgasm starts. This time, it builds so fast, it's all I can do to take a breath before he's riding me through it.

"Good fucking girl," he moans.

He doesn't reward me with a break. I'm so weak, I might faint in his arms. I'm just now realizing that every deep thrust makes me scream out loud. I can't bite it back, can't help it.

I hope they can't hear me at the ranch house.

My body hits a breaking point. I can't tell when I'm coming and when I'm not. I'm just a wet mess of pleasure and pain, held up by his iron forearm locked over my breasts. At some point, he dropped the vibrator, and he's using his fingers on my clit.

Circling as he fucks me. Rubbing from side to side. Punctuating his touch with a light spank here and there. Tears slip down my cheeks. A sob fights its way out.

Through all of this, he's careful not to leave a single mark behind.