Shameful Reformation – Shamefully Courted Read Online Emily Tilton

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Emily Tilton Advertisement

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Then his hands made the puzzle, such as it was, completely clear. They took possession of my body, the left one holding me in place and the right seizing me between my thighs so that all the pain seemed lost in my own need to belong to him.

I cried out. I screamed, really, just as loudly as I had screamed while he paddled me, but now instead of making the pain better, the sound—the feeling of it inside my body and then echoing off the bedroom walls, and the sensation of the air leaving my lungs—made the pleasure grow. I felt like my body couldn’t take it, but at the same time I couldn’t bear to consider for the merest instant that it might stop.

“Shh,” I heard Cal murmur, from far away, “shh, darlin’. Such a good girl. Such a warm little bottom.”

“Oh… my… oh… God,” I sobbed. My back arched so hard I wondered if I might break something, and the orgasm… the titanic orgasm that seemed to loom over my head… had almost crested…

But I knew what Cal would do, before he did it, and when he took his hands away again, as if sensing how close I’d gotten—of course sensing that, because he apparently knew absolutely everything about my body’s naughtiest impulses—my moan of frustration seemed to have some appreciation in it. I felt like I understood. Like the observing part of me had started thinking along with him.

That’s right. Don’t let her come. Not yet.

At that strangely distanced thought, the part of me that had remained inside, the core of me and my shameless dark desires, made me bend my head downward, like an animal submitting to a yoke. If I had been standing, I would have knelt before Cal.

I heard the metallic sound of his fly opening, and the rustling of the denim, a soft creaking noise that seemed to me to go perfectly with the strength of my gorgeous suitor’s body—as if a man like Cal could only wear jeans made of a strong fabric, riveted securely, so as to contain the sheer bulk of his muscles and the forceful way he used them. I let out another little sob, a moan in which I could hear my submission to what I felt certain must come next.

He would show it to me, first. I would have to look at his cock. He would make me. I closed my eyes, squeezed them firmly shut.

You’re going to get to look at Cal’s hardness, you mean, the observer scolded, becoming strict with me—though nowhere near as strict as my suitor.

I had seen Jake’s from very close up, hadn’t I? The massive shaft he had thrust into his wife’s pussy with such alarming force, the manhood she had begged for, had clearly needed so very badly.

And I needed a man’s rigid penis, too. I needed the one in Cal’s jeans… the one I knew he had just freed… the one I thought I could sense, swaying in the darkness beyond my closed eyelids. I breathed in through my nose and I scented the same kind of musky aroma that had risen from Jake’s naked lap. It made me whimper. It made my hips jerk, my paddled bottom push out as if I were pleading to have my future husband’s manhood in my pussy first, though I knew Cal had other, more shameful intentions.

His hand came down on the back of my neck, his fingers working their way into my disheveled ponytail. He turned my face to the side, and my next breath through my nose brought the masculine scent so strongly that I let out a kitten whine of shame and anxiety through my nose.

“Open your eyes, Grace,” he told me sternly. “It’s time for you to learn to thank me properly for disciplining you.”

I bit my lower lip, and I shook my head, holding back my impulse to obey for some reason I didn’t understand, some need for even more discipline, even more guidance.

“Don’t make me paddle you more, darlin’,” Cal said, his voice a growl of warning. The words made my butt clench as if I could somehow defend myself that way. I opened my eyes and I let out a gasp, because I didn’t just see my suitor’s huge, hard penis; I saw that he had taken off his shirt, too, at some point between the beginning of my terrible lesson and the final swat from the paddle.

Cal’s washboard abs, with a line of dark fur running down their middle, seemed almost to speak for themselves. They told me of his hardness, his firmness in a new way that went straight to my pussy. The impossibly hard ridges of his core muscles echoed the other hardness, the one he held in his left hand while with his right he kept my head steady so that I had no choice but to confront it.

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