Mile High

It wasn’t the jarring ride I usually craved. He moved in and out of me smoothly, crying out in my ear as he came, too fast for me to even keep up.



I was shocked at his release. He usually went for so long before coming himself. But, of course, he didn’t leave me unsatisfied for long. He was turning me, kneeling in front of me, ripping a glove off impatiently with his teeth.



He buried his face between my legs with a rough moan, and I screamed as he purposefully made me come, using his tongue and fingers and just the barest hint of teeth, my hands gripping his silky hair all the while.



He cleaned us up again after that, shaking his head ruefully all the while. He had to strip off my chaps before he worked me into my panties and then tight jeans. They were new, but still fit perfectly. I wasn’t even surprised by it anymore. He worked the chaps back up my legs swiftly and efficiently, as though he’d done it a thousand times. I tried my best not to dwell on that fact.



“I never thought I’d have the urge to fuck someone to death,” he muttered.



I giggled.



He gave me a little smirk as he led me back to Princess. He helped me mount, and I turned quickly, wanting to see him execute his own perfect mount once again. He did so effortlessly, taking the lead as we headed back to the ranch.



“Did you need to get back to Vegas today or tomorrow?” James asked, glancing back at me.



I grimaced, thinking about it. “Tonight. I’d hate to push it and hit bad weather.”



He sighed with resignation. “Okay. We’ll have lunch and head out.”



CHAPTER NINETEEN



We were heading back to Vegas in way too short a time. So much had happened in our short reprieve.



James had weakened my resolve to keep my distance in that way he had, with his persistence and his willpower. He was not a man to be deterred. And for whatever reason, he seemed resolute in his desire to be with me. And wanting me for something more permanent than I’d ever thought he would even consider. Living together didn’t terrify me, as marriage did, but I couldn’t say that I was even approaching comfortable with it.



We were both quiet for the drive, and then the flight. I didn’t mind. I had a lot to think about, and James seemed lost in his own thoughts, not even getting his laptop out to get some work done on the flight.



“We’ll stay at your house tonight,” James said, as we touched down in Vegas. It was the first thing he’d said in an hour. I studied him. He seemed a little distant, a little sad.



“I’m having some work done on my place,” he explained. “I’ll finally give you a tour of the property sometime next week.”



I just nodded, but he hadn’t been asking me a question.



We went to bed early that night. James could see that I was exhausted from the riding and the traveling, and oh yeah, the phenomenal fucking.



He did his kinky little exam of my body. It had become a habit of his. I felt well enough, mostly tired, and a little sore, but he insisted on checking every inch of me. He softly kissed shadow bruises still on my ribs and back, the abrasions on my wrists and ankles, and even turned me around to check my butt, for soreness from the saddle. He studied my sex last, his eyes heavy-lidded as he touched me ever so gently, fingers sifting through my folds.



“You’ve got to be the kinkiest wannabe doctor on the planet,” I told him with a half smile.



His mouth turned up faintly at the corners. He took it as a challenge. The comment seemed to inspire him to be kinkier.



He’d brought a glass of ice water into the room, and he grabbed it from the beside table, taking a long drink. One of his hands still held my inner thigh, keeping my legs pushed wide apart and my body pinned to my spot right at the edge of the mattress.



He bent, burying his face between my legs. I gasped as he pushed an ice cube inside of me with his clever tongue. He lapped at me like a cat for a moment before straightening again. He took another long drink, repeating the process. My hands fisted in his silky hair, begging him silently for release, but he took his time. He stroked me, and licked me, and sat back, just to look at me, again and again. He pushed a finger into me, thrusting, but I wanted more.



“Please, James, I want you inside of me.”



He bit the bottom lip of that pretty mouth, but didn’t respond, just kept up the process.



I was shivering, chills wracking me from both desire and the delectable feeling of cold ice inside of me.



He had shoved five cubes in deep.



He took another ice cube and began to run it along my belly, circling my navel in almost lazy motions.



Next he ran the ice up along my ribs, then traced my sternum. My nipples were already pebbled long before he’d payed them any personal attention. I shivered and shuddered as he finally circled a quivering nipple.



The ice wasn’t the only cold thing he’d brought into the bedroom with us, I realized after endless minutes of his teasing. His very demeanor was cold tonight, his eyes icy as he worked on me slowly, torturously.



“Am I being punished?” I asked him finally, when he held back from letting me come, pulling his busy fingers out of me just short of release.



He smiled, and even the smile was cold. “Not exactly. This is only a lesson, Bianca. I’m doing this to you for one simple reason. Because I can. This is what it means to be my submissive.”



I writhed at that, his calculated actions bringing out a shivering fear that, perversely, made me want him even more.



“Will you be fucking me tonight? Or is this all a tease? Because you can?”



In answer, he buried his face between my legs again, his tongue circling my clit, his fingers going back to work inside of me. I felt the ice cubes clink together, and I moaned, right on the edge of orgasm. He straightened, leaving me bereft.



He stood, stripping out of his boxer briefs in one smooth motion. He was hard. At this point, I would have been more shocked if he wasn’t. He stroked himself, looking down at me with that hard, stony expression. I bit my lip as I watched him stroke himself, once, twice. I was sobbing on his third stroke, drawing my legs up to my chest, wanting to touch myself, anything to ease the ache that the ice inside of me only antagonized. I pushed my legs down, lifting my hips into the air in a silent plea.



He stopped abruptly. “No,” he finally answered. “I’m punishing myself tonight, so I won’t be fucking you. Only you get to come tonight.”



He bent down, and began the torture all over again. He’d said I could come, but he hadn’t said when, and he left me wanting for long minutes that felt like hours.



The first ice had melted, with new cubes replacing it, before he finally sucked me into a climax so hard that I sobbed out his name at the end, tears running down my cheeks.



He tried to hold me afterwards, and I turned away, trying to roll out of his reach. But my bed wasn’t that big, and he was determined. He swatted my butt for the effort.



“Don’t turn away from me,” he said in a hard voice, pulling my back against him.



I tried to fall asleep, but he began to touch me again, kneading my breasts until I was arching my back, brushing my backside against his stiff length.



“You can take me there,” I told him, brushing my backside against him again. I hated that he was denying himself, whatever the reason.



He purred against me. “No release for me, not tonight. I keep pushing you too hard, even though you’re injured and unaccustomed to this. I need a torturous night to reflect on my sins. Keep teasing me. I deserve it.”



I stopped rubbing my butt against him, not willing to help him in that regard. He bit my neck, one hand snaking down to stroke my sex. “You don’t want me to suffer, Love? You don’t agree with the punishment I’ve chosen for myself?”



“No,” I said on a gasp.



He plunged his large fingers into me, starting up an exquisite rhythm.



“I want to bring you pleasure, not punishment,” I told him.



He grunted. “Well, it’s not up to you, is it?” he asked, his fingers quickening, bringing me to orgasm quickly this time, a stark contrast to what he’d done to me the first time.



He kept his fingers inside of me, a hand gripping my breast, and his stiff erection still pressed firmly against my butt.



“Go to sleep, love,” he whispered harshly in my ear.



I was so exhausted that I actually did.



James woke me in the morning in much the way he’d put me to bed, his hand stroking me, his other kneading at my breast. He was sucking on that perfect spot on my neck, his rigid cock grinding against my butt in rhythm to his fingers.



“Are you awake?” he asked into my ear.



“Yes. Please, I need you inside me. Please don’t deprive yourself again.” I arched my back as I spoke.



He shifted me onto my back, but stayed on his side. He dragged me around until my wet entrance was pointed at his stiff member, throwing my legs over his hip. My head was nearly hanging off the side of the bed.



One of his arms was used to prop him up, but his other hand was free to roam over my body. He lingered on my breasts, plucking at my nipples.



“I’m going to have special rings designed for these,” he said, and rammed into me.



I didn’t have a chance to ask him what he meant. I was too busy gasping as he began a jolting rhythm, still pulling on my breasts.



“I’ll make them match your collar and your earrings. I want you dripping in diamonds. I’ll decorate all of your chains with them. Before I’m done with you, every part of your body will be stamped with my ownership.”



My hands fisted in the sheets. It was all I could reach in this position. I used my legs to move with his thrusts, and he groaned in approval.



He had us both coming in swift moments, impatient from his night of torture.



“Did you get any sleep last night?” I asked him as we lay panting, spent.



“A little. Though every time I drifted off, I woke up trying to violate you in your sleep. I need to rethink that punishment, I think.”



I shifted until I could kiss him. It was a long, sweet kiss. He was surprisingly passive for it, as if he was curious to see what I would do.



I pulled back, touching his cheek. I knew my tenderness showed in my eyes. “Get a little more sleep.



Please? At least rest while I go try to scrounge up breakfast.”



He must have been exhausted, because he nodded, closing his eyes. He didn’t open them as he raised my hand to his lips, kissing it softly.



I rose, pulling a sheet over him, and impulsively kissing his forehead before throwing on my tiny, nearly transparent shift. I grabbed a thong from my drawer full of the lacy things, even knowing I would be changing again soon, since I needed to shower after breakfast.



I padded into the kitchen, getting out anything I could find that went well with eggs. I cursed when I heard the loud sound of the garbage truck driving down my little street. I had already forgotten to put out my trash can the week before. I really needed to get it out to the curb before the truck passed my house.



I wouldn’t normally go out front in my tiny slip of a nightgown, but I didn’t have a spare moment to change.



Besides, I’ll be quick. I told myself. I just needed to drag my one full garbage can out of the garage and onto the curb, then dart back in. And this was Vegas. See-through clothing was hardly unheard of, even in public.