Beg For Me: Chapter 18

A thick stream of cum blasts out from Carter’s dick. He drops his head back and groans loudly at the ceiling, thrusting his hips into my fist as he continues to orgasm in short, hot pulses.

He’s beautiful like this. Eyes closed, stomach clenched, the cords in his neck standing out. Hips thrust forward, body arched. Adonis in ecstasy.

I lean over and take his cock in my mouth, swallowing his ejaculate as he feeds it to me. Jerking and moaning, he grabs my head and starts to frantically fuck my mouth.

He calls out my name. Once, then again, brokenly.

When he’s finally spent, panting and trembling, he opens his eyes and looks down at me in hazy-eyed bliss.

I slip his cock from between my lips and smile. “You taste like the ocean.”

He drops his head back and starts to laugh. It’s a deep, husky sound, utterly masculine.

“Fucking hell, woman.”

“You good?”

“I’m better than good. I think my soul left my body for a second there. Jesus.”

Cradling my head in his hands, he inhales, exhales in a gust, then looks down at me again. He’s smiling now. Beaming, actually.

“I got a little carried away there at the end.”

“Yes, I think you found the bottom of my stomach.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Not even a little bit.”

He exhales in relief. “That was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“I have to admit, it was pretty exciting watching you. Even if I’m all sorts of awkward with the dirty talk.”

He chuffs. “Are you kidding me? You’re a natural.”

“Thank you. How does your ass feel?”

He thinks about it for a moment, then sighs. “So good.”

I take a look at his butt, taut and perfect except for the pattern of vivid red splotches. “You’ve got some welts. Nothing too scary. No broken skin or bruises. I should put a cold compress on it though. Maybe some aloe vera.”

“That sounds great, except I’m in the middle of making you dinner. If you couldn’t tell, the oven is getting impatient.”

As if on cue, the oven beeps again. I press a kiss to his hip. “I’ll put the lasagna in the naggy oven. And while it’s cooking, I’m going to take care of you. Lie face down on the sofa and wait there until I get back.”

I stand and head to the kitchen while he arranges himself on the couch. I hear a great, heaving gust of a sigh, then a chuckle.

“Man, her ladyship is strict.”

Smiling, I remove the foil from the casserole dish and pop it into the oven. I set the timer for thirty minutes, then rummage around in a few drawers until I locate a clean dishtowel.

I find a big glass bowl in a cabinet above the sink and fill it with ice from the freezer. Then I run water into the bowl and put the dishtowel in to soak.

As I make my way back to Carter, he’s looking over his shoulder at me, watching me approach with a sleepy, satisfied smile. Half-naked, with his jeans and briefs around his thighs and his pale ass all welted, he’s the very picture of ravishment.

I did that.

The thought is intoxicating.

I sit next to him on the sofa, set the bowl on the coffee table, and wring out the towel. When I lay it over his naked bottom, he flinches and hisses through his teeth.

“I’m sorry.”

He chuckles. “Don’t be. I’m having the time of my fucking life.”

“Is the cloth too cold?”

“It feels amazing.”

“Okay. Hold on a second.”

From my overnight bag, I remove the travel container that holds my various creams and potions and take out a small tube of gel. I turn back to Carter, lift the towel from his behind and lay it back into the ice water bowl, then gently massage a dollop of aloe vera onto his reddened skin.

He lies quietly while I work, every once in a while sighing in contentment.

“You’re a goddess. What’s-her-face Nightingale.”

“Florence. Is this strange for you at all?”

“No. Why, is it strange for you?”

“For someone who’s never role-played before, it feels bizarrely natural.”

“I’ve never role-played either.”

“Really? That surprises me.”

“The girls I’ve dated haven’t been into that kind of thing.” He thinks for a moment. “To be honest, and I hope this isn’t an off-putting thing to say, but in my experience, most women don’t really know what they want in bed. They usually let the guy take the lead.”

“Am I the oldest woman you’ve dated?”

He props himself up on his elbows and peers at me. “I feel like there’s a landmine in there somewhere.”

“I’m not baiting you. I was just curious, but you don’t have to answer.”

There’s a brief pause, then he nods. “Yes. You’re the oldest woman I’ve dated. And by far the sexiest.”

That makes me smile. “Well, thank you for that, fine sir. You’re by far the sexiest person I’ve dated too.”

He watches me in silence as I finish gently rubbing the gel onto the raised red marks on his skin. I wring the towel out in the bowl and lay it back over his ass, and he’s still watching me.

I say, “You’re thinking.”

“I am.”

“Does it hurt?”

He takes the small velvet throw pillow he was resting his head on and flings it at me. I dodge it, laughing.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

“Maybe you deserve a spanking.”

I stop and look at him, considering it. “I’ve never been spanked. Not even when I was little. My father didn’t believe in corporal punishment. The worst I ever got was a stern talking-to.”

Carter glances at his butt. “Am I good to go?”

“We should probably let that cold cloth stay on for a while. It’ll hold down the swelling.”

He quirks his lips and gazes at me with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Are you babying me?”

My immediate instinct is to say yes, but I rethink it.

What if he wants me to baby him? What if we keep going in this direction and I wind up spoon-feeding him applesauce while he sits in a high chair, squalling?

I picture him crawling around the carpet with a pacifier in his mouth wearing a soiled diaper that needs changing and grimace.

He chuckles. “Whatever you’re thinking, you should probably share it because you look a little green.”

“Right. Sorry.” Slightly embarrassed, I clear my throat and meet his eyes. “If you’re into age play, like having somebody be your mommy while you’re a helpless infant and all that, I’ll have to pass. I already raised a child. I don’t want to do it again.”

He bursts out laughing. Dropping his forehead to his crossed arms, he laughs and laughs while I sit and think about picking up the wooden spoon again and giving his sore ass a good thwack with it.

“Move, please, beautiful. I want to stand up.”

I rise and step around to the other side of the coffee table. He stands, drops the wet towel back into the bowl of ice water, and pulls up his jeans. After he’s zipped up, he props his hands on his hips and grins at me.

“I’m not into the infant role-play thing.”

“Thank God.”

“But I do like to eat fresh poop, so if you could just bend over a chair and take off your panties, I’ll get situated…”

I’m horrified for a second until he presses his lips together and his chest starts heaving with silent laughter.

I say sourly, “Oh, very funny. Gross but funny. Thank you for almost giving me a heart attack.”

He clutches his sides, bending over at the waist because he’s so overtaken with laughter. “You should’ve seen your face!”

I pick up the pillow he threw at me and hurl it back at him. It bounces off his head and lands on the floor. “Well, how am I supposed to know what you’re into? Millennials are weird.”

He stops laughing and sends me a dour look. “Okay, boomer.”

That makes me chuckle. “Now you’re really asking for it.”

He says archly, “I’m sorry, did I dent her ladyship’s ego?”

“No, because technically, I’m a Millennial too.”

“But like an elder Millennial. Pretty much Gen X.”

“You’re swimming in dangerous waters, my friend.”

“Oh, c’mon. We have to be able to joke about it.”

“I should have punished you with a proper whip.”

Smirking, he strolls over to me. “Only if I get to reciprocate.”

I shake my head. “You’re a brat.”

“No, beautiful, I’m just giving as good as I get. But I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

He kisses me on the cheek, then walks into the kitchen, whistling “Old McDonald Had a Farm.”

I call out to his back, “Don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here feeding myself some fine cheeses while you gloat over your fast metabolism and high bone density.”

By the way his shoulders shake, I can tell he’s trying not to laugh out loud.

Smartass.

I sit down and eat a juicy piece of cantaloupe. Carter putters around in the kitchen for a few minutes, then comes back to me, holding his wine glass. He gestures to the bottle on the coffee table.

“I picked this especially for you.”

I look at the label, bearing the same winery logo as the Amarone I ordered the night we had dinner in Venice. “That was thoughtful. Thank you.”

He picks up the bottle, refills my glass, then sits down beside me, flinching a little as he settles in.

I hope his welted butt stings like hell. “Okay boomer,” my ass.

He says, “So you don’t like infant role-play, and you’re not into eating fresh poop.”

“Or providing it for anyone else to eat. Correct.”

“What are you into, then? Aside from topping, I mean.”

I turn to look at him. “Is that like being a dominatrix?”

“Topping and bottoming are activity based. Dominance and submission are psychology based.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about it for someone who’s never role-played.”

He lifts a shoulder. “Not really. Someone told me that once, and I remembered it.”

“Was this someone trying to tie you up at the time?”

“I wouldn’t enjoy being restrained. How about you?”

I eat another piece of melon while I consider it. “I don’t know. I guess it would depend on the person who was doing the tying. How much trust I had in him.”

“Something to consider.” He swirls his wine, watching me with avid eyes.

“One thing I really enjoyed was having you wake me up with your mouth. I was in the middle of this incredible dream about being defiled by a satyr in the woods, and all of a sudden, I’m in my own bed orgasming with your face between my legs.” I smile at the memory.

“So that’s why you called me king satyr. I wasn’t sure if I’d been given a pet name.” He leans over, picks up a grape from the board, and pops it into his mouth. “Defiled, hmm? That sounds interesting.”

“He chased me down and had his beastly way with me. It was lovely.”

“Against your will?”

“Yes, but I liked it.” I stop and think about what I just said. “That probably sounds awful.”

“Not at all. It sounds like you enjoy the thought of someone physically stronger than you forcing you to submit to him sexually.”

“Now it sounds even worse!”

“Sometimes people who have a high level of responsibility in their daily lives need to let go a little. It’s an outlet. Like going for a run or getting a massage.”

My laugh is dry. “Yes, except for feminism, I’d agree with you. Women fought for decades for our right to equality, only to surrender it in the bedroom?”

He drawls, “What makes you think it’s only women?”

I consider him. “Yes, I suppose that’s true, Mr. COO of Earth. You seem to enjoy surrendering control.”

“I didn’t know I did.” His voice grows softer. “Until this afternoon.”

“Really?”

“You asked for the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So yes, really. That was incredibly fucking hot. I found it surprisingly Zen.”

I almost cough out the sip of wine I was taking. “You had a spiritual experience, did you?”

His smile is hot and lazy. He pops another grape into his mouth and chews it, holding my gaze. “I guess the only way you’d understand, your grace, is if you let me try it with you.”

I open my mouth to issue an automatic denial, but stop before a word leaves my lips. If it was as hot for him submitting to the punishment as it was for me dispensing it, he might be onto something.

“Okay. You’re on. What else do you think you’d like but haven’t tried yet?”

“I’m more interested in what you think you might like. You got pretty excited when I put my hand around your neck and squeezed.”

Just thinking about it makes my thighs clench. I nod, exhaling a little raggedly.

“Have you experimented with that?”

“No. My ex was as straight as they come. Missionary only, lights out.”

“But I assume you had other sexual partners before him?”

“I did. And if you ask how many, I’ll politely decline to answer, then politely throw the rest of my wine in your face.”

He chuckles. “I wasn’t going to ask. By the way, I’m clean.”

When I look at him with my brows raised, he says, “I meant I don’t have any nasty little germies that I could infect you with.”

“What a creative way of saying it. I know what you meant.”

“Then why are you making that face?”

I look at the wine and the cheese board, at all the elegant furnishings in this elegant room, then back at him. “Cognitive dissonance, I suppose. Last week at this time, I was picking my daughter’s dirty clothes off the floor. Now, I’m sitting here talking about STDs and washing the taste of your cum down my throat with expensive wine.”

He smirks. “Don’t forget the fruit and fine cheeses.”

“But you see the point I’m making.”

“I do. Maybe it’s just easier for me because I’ve been fantasizing about you for so long. You can’t imagine the number of times I’ve ejaculated onto your beautiful bare tits. It’s got to be in the thousands.”

I stare at him for a moment, speechless, then dissolve into helpless laughter. “I’m glad to know I’ve been such a source of inspiration!”

He starts to laugh too. “Baby, you have no idea. Is now a good time to tell you I’m into anal? Because I’d really like to stick it up your butt.”

I fall back onto the sofa, laughing so hard, I have to clutch my wineglass to my chest so I don’t drop it.

I suppose it wouldn’t matter much if I did, anyway. He’s going to need to call a carpet cleaning service to get his semen out of the rug. What I didn’t swallow is currently drying there in clumps.

“Okay, Carter,” I say, gasping for air. “You’re on. I’ll let you stick it in my butt. But not tonight. Let’s eat dinner and act like we’re normal people for half a second before we sink into all the debauchery.”

He leans down, takes my foot in his hand, and kisses it, gazing up at me with heated eyes and a dangerous smile.

He says softly, “As you wish, your ladyship. Just for tonight, we’re nothing but two normal people. A beautiful woman and the fool who’s madly in love with her.”

I look away and take a big gulp of wine so I don’t do something stupid like ask him if he’s telling the truth.