Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories (29 page)

“Let’s see if I can make you like this also.”

At that moment, she felt the tip of his cock find the correct place on her pussy and as he stared into her eyes, his cock slowly parted her lips. She sighed at the burst of pleasure and her head would have flopped back onto the bed if he’d not been holding her.

“If you are who, what, I think you are...you must be a virgin.”

She blinked at him, suddenly aware of what a virgin was, but she couldn’t find words to reply. Inexorably, he was sinking farther into her, carving a path of pleasure.

He groaned and ceased to move and she felt him pulse inside her, felt her flesh taut from the extreme stretch forced on her.

When he moved again, inward, she gasped and shut her eyes.

“Hurting?”

“Some. I like it. It is...good, bad, together.” She squirmed in his hands, pinned there in so many ways.

“My cock likes being in you, too fucking much.” He groaned but stayed still. “You are a virgin. If...if you make me come too soon, I will spank you again.”

Despite everything, despite him fucking here on the bed, despite his...cock being inside her, hurting her and pleasuring her, and making her want him deeper, despite all of that, she giggled.

“Bad Ahnyil.” Then he slid into her another half inch.

She trembled. There was laughter in his words, but she wondered, how much farther could he go?

“Are you in, all the way?” she said huskily. She couldn’t bring herself to say cock.

“No, dear girl, I’m not. I’ve not touched bottom yet. When I do, you’ll know.”

He wrapped his arms beneath her shoulders and began to do something different then, to rock in and out of her. Shallow then deeper, working at her, until she moaned and babbled. The slide of his cock in and out made her wonder if she were about to fall apart.

“Can I...” She raised her legs and wrapped them over his back then promptly forgot what she’d asked because the shunt of his cock in and out of her felt amazing.

“Can you?”

Mmm
was all she could manage.

He chuckled. “Yes. It lets me fuck you better, so yes.”

Mouth open, she heard breathy
uh, uh, uhn
sounds she’d never made before. She was so consumed by sensations, she wasn’t sure if all the noises were hers. Rough? If this was rough, she’d mistaken its meaning.

“Almost there. Almost all of me there, in you.”

All her questions went far, far away and she soared into a scattered state where her body strained and she cried out. She shook and came, and came again.

Chapter Three

––––––––

A
dam lowered himself onto his forearms, resting his chin on her breast. The orgasm he’d given Ahnyil had floored her and she lay there with her eyes shut and her chest rising and falling crazily. He was shaking, and he never shook after sex, and his cock was still hard inside her. Her raw beauty awed him and swept him with wonder, remorse, and extreme satisfaction.

He wanted to roar his triumph and yet also cradle her.

What had he done? Screwed an angel? A fallen angel, he guessed.

He hadn’t even worn a condom, but then surely she couldn’t get pregnant?

He was probably insane.

Pulling out was going to have to happen sometime. He sighed, withdrew slowly, then rolled onto his side and gathered her to him, making her snuggle into the dip below his shoulder where a woman should be.

“Huh,” she whispered after a minute, snuggling into him some more.

“What, beautiful creature?” He stroked her arm.

“I can feel something wet dribbling out of me.”

“That’s cum...semen.” Damn. She was so innocent it stunned him.

“Oh yes. That.”

“You knew?”

“I think I know a lot of, umm, bad words. I just don’t
know
them until I come across them.”

“Ahh. Not sure I’d call those ones bad.” He buried his nose in her hair and nestled his palm below her breast where he could feel her heartbeat. It slowed. Her breathing calmed, so did her heartbeat. Did angels have hearts? They must. Probably bigger, purer ones.

He recalled the moment when he’d understood – his little revelation when he, all at once, doubted his sanity and yet knew he was right.

Just the marks on her back would never have made him decide she was
this
, it was when he’d raised his hand to spank her. He’d been already wondering but the room had actually changed with the potential of that moment. Extracting penance from an ex-angel must be some sort of a la-de-da big event in the ways of the universe.

Then, when he’d hit her, the feeling had rocked him, had rocked the room, and an earthquake seemed to crumble his thoughts. Her ass had a perfect imprint of his hand, and from the handprint had arisen motes of silver that drifted upward, reflecting some impossible light, as well as that lemon scent he’d noted before when she’d cut her hair. His mouth had fallen open. Ridiculous, yet appropriate. He’d considered collecting each mote of silver, and saving it, somehow.

The penance of a fallen angel. Had to be worth something. He’d smirked then smacked her ass again, kept on with the punishment.

He’d been certain of her identity from then onward.

He might not have believed in this sort of thing before but after that he did. Trapping the evidence of her penance would probably lead to some doom befalling him, like getting cooked in a gingerbread house’s oven.

He wasn’t greedy. He’d had her over his knee.

And now, she was in his bed.

He stirred her hair with his nose and sighed. Wasn’t greedy? Sure he wasn’t. The length of her warm, curvy body against his felt perfect. He wanted to keep her. Could he? How long would she stay?

Ahnyil yawned. “I would like to sleep here, Adam. May I?”

“Yes. You may.”
May
wasn’t a normal word for him. She made him feel weird. Protective, as well as horny, savage, and bloody deviant, that last especially, and like he should e-nun-ciate better. All that, after having sex with her, once.

What had she done to fall?

“You didn’t tell me what I am,” she whispered sleepily. “I was good, yes?”

“You were.”

“Mmm. I like being good.”

He smiled but took her shoulder in his teeth and growled.

“Shhh. You distract me. Do I get answer?”

“I think you want more punishment.”

“I can have more? This sounds interesting, but I think, not now.”

He sat up on his elbow. “Did you just sign up to do this again?” She was lucky he was feeling mellow.

“Maybe. You are still distracting.”

He was. He didn’t want to answer her.

The crux of it all. She learned from hearing words, she’d said. If he told her the word
angel
, where would that lead to? Sudden awareness of who she was, what she’d done and, maybe, why she should be elsewhere? He should think on this. He must not rush this. In the meantime...

“You’re a creature from another world. I haven’t worked out which creature yet.”

“Ahhh. This means little to me. Tell me if you decide which of these am.”

“I will. Sleep.” Then he patted her until her gentle movements told him she slept.

He’d told a sort of a lie. To an ex-angel. After he’d promised to answer her. If Hell existed he’d possibly earned himself, at the very least, a post office box address there.

Though he tried to sleep too, he ended up turning onto his back, carefully, so as not to wake her, and staring at the ceiling and the flecks of sunlight dancing on the cream-painted walls.

If she’d been a human, a submissive of his, he’d never have lied to her over this. It was such an important question and something a responsible adult should be allowed to know, unless there was some agreement between him and them that said this was his to decide. He had nothing like that as an excuse. Except...was she a responsible adult?

Twice now, that eerie look in her eyes had dropped him into a haze where he sensed a timelessness, a history of eons. And
bing
eons probably meant she qualified as adult. But then again, right now she wasn’t quite functioning properly. Maybe, he reminded himself, that was because she had no fucking clue she used to be an angel.

Shit.
He was going in circles. Deciding now, when she snored beside him, straight after sex, was a dumb time. He had the weekend off. He could think later.

So he turned back to her and grinned. Yes, Ahnyil snored when her face was half-stuffed into a pillow. He kissed her on the cheek, enthralled by the flutter of her eyelashes. He put his hand over the stripe of redness at her shoulder, where one of her wings had been, but could feel no evidence of anything there at all. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Breakfast, soon.

Renewed guilt occupied his soul, when he awoke beside her. She was too pretty, too cute, too vulnerable. He’d fucked her and spanked her and now he wished he hadn’t. His kinks had drawn him to her. What had drawn her to him, he didn’t know.

He made a vow within an hour not to touch her again. Only she didn’t know it and he couldn’t explain why, not properly, not without saying she was a fallen angel. So he stuck himself in agonizing limbo. He wanted her here, with him, but wouldn’t touch her, wouldn’t chance losing her by telling her she was an ex-angel. Where was his courage?

What a Dom he was, in orgasm denial, all by his own decision. Fuck, it killed him.

Later that afternoon, he decided to teach her to cook and was gathering ingredients from the fridge. He turned, to find her behind him and she wrapped her arms about his neck, went up on tiptoes, and kissed him, once, then stared.

“What was that?”

“A kiss? I saw it on the TV. I don’t think kisses are a bad thing, are they?”

“No, they aren’t. I’m one hundred percent sure of that.”

With his hands full of vegetables and eggs, he was handicapped. When had he kissed her before? He didn’t think he had. Fucking and spanking her had been his priorities. And feeling her, all over.

“Let me show you kissing done properly.”

He put aside the eggs and grabbed her, hoisted her onto the countertop, and kissed her until he had her breathless, though that was partly due to his hand being wrapped around her throat.

“Oh boy.” Panting, she grasped his hand at the wrist but he didn’t let go of her neck. “That was kissing?”

“Yes.” How easy it would be to take this further. Dismayed, he released her. Now he had a hard-on that wasn’t going away until he made it.

“I liked it. Can we go to bed again?”

He coughed and stepped back. “No. I decided not to do that with you again.”

“But...” She eyed the obvious erection in his shorts. “Your cock wants to.”

At her words, it stiffened some more. “Sex, Ahnyil, is supposed to be a treat. Not often.”

“But if it’s not a sin, we could do it whenever we wanted to? How often is not often?”

He grated out the words, “I’ll tell you when.”

This was impossible. He had to retreat to the bathroom to rub one out while she made toast, very burnt toast. He was no great cook but she was abysmal.

Since sex was off the menu, he taught her about living instead. She knew nothing of cooking, shopping for clothes, or walking hand-in-hand along riverbanks, or computers or phones, or feeding ducks with bread. Dressing up a girlfriend in clothes he’d bought was always strangely appealing to him. With Ahnyil, he was a bit excessive. Maybe because the little dresses and tiny shorts made his eyes bug out, made him want to tie her up and lick her and bite her all over? Yeah, it was that.

Late Sunday afternoon, he spotted a flotilla of ducks in the water. A little duck navy that’d steamed toward them as soon as they saw the loaves of bread.

When the ducks waddled up the grass to discover fallen pieces of bread, she laughed and he smiled. He’d done a lot of smiling this weekend. To his great pride, he’d not done more than kiss her.

Not if you didn’t count holding her waist to get past her, once; rearranging locks of hair about her ear, maybe two times; straightening her T-shirt when it rode up; or trailing a finger down the top of her thigh when she sat beside him on the bank. That last one had been dangerous, since it turned into another impromptu kiss.

Lying over her, doing deep tongue-wrangling kissing might have turned into fucking, if they hadn’t been in public.

He’d asked her to return to the apartment without him because he’d needed the time to regain his composure, as in rearrange his dick and count to three hundred.

What if he was wrong and she wasn’t an angel? Maybe she’d turn into something with tentacles if he waited long enough? At least he wouldn’t feel so guilty about wanting screw her. But no, he knew, he totally knew.

He went to work on Monday, hoping she’d not burn down his place with the toaster.

When he returned, he found her out on the river bank with a couple of the kids from Gabriel Towers, collecting daisies, or bugs, or something, and chatting to the kids. Most around here were hardcore Xbox and PlayStation addicts, so it was surprising. He rarely saw any of them playing outside.

He went out to join them, feeling the grass slip underfoot as he negotiated the slope down to the flatter area.

An email he’d read while at work had come from the man who ran the orphanage Abu lived at in Pakistan. Jacques was French and would win second prize for world’s biggest heart beside Ahnyil. No one paid him much for what he did. He just did it, along with other volunteers, and helped countless children orphaned by war and other terrible things.

The lives of these two children, healthy and well loved, were a sad contrast to what many children suffered. Abu was happy now, but Adam had lived next door to the orphanage for a few months while working as a contractor, protecting foreign diplomats. He knew how bad it could get. How close death ventured. There were amputees and brain-damaged kids among the orphans.

Ahnyil was standing, in side profile, smiling at the children, her ragged hair flicking across her shoulders and seeming perfect, for her. Even the denim shorts and purple T-shirt shaping her body made his heart sing again. How could anyone like her exist?