My hips strain, suspended in their raised, vulgar position, Frost’s words pounding in my head: “Don’t lose your electron.”
I repeat them like a mantra.
Don’t lose your electron. Don’t lose your electron. Don’t lose your electron.
Vibrations race through me, like a million fire ants on the march. They burn and buzz in my core, an ever intensifying agitation that won’t let up.
My brows furrow as my eyes flutter closed, feeling the escalation in my lower belly.
Then a shock—a stinging smack on my ass cheek—and his sharp warning:
“I didn’t say you could come.”
My entire body tenses at those words, his eyes daring me to defy them even as they spur on the tingling in my groin. A broken moan tumbles out of me, and I have to clamp my eyes closed again against the swirling buzz in my core as my arms fight to steady my trembling, swaying body. The ropes bite into my wrists as I struggle to keep myself still. The pain is a welcome distraction from the pleasure that’s building inside of me, but it’s not enough.
I have to calm down. The tingling in my lower belly starts to ebb as I concentrate on slowing my breathing.
In. Out. In. Out.
I can do this.
I have to do this.