Hello and welcome to the Sunday Snog! Today’s kiss comes from Spiced Vanilla and was inspired by Lucy Felthouse’s Review of this book. I was reminded just how much I loved it and thought it would be good to revisit it’s particularly sweet and sexy delights.
Now hold on to your hats, folks. This is a scorching hot Snog, so you’ve been warned!
“No,” he snapped. “Move those hands, young lady.” I did, and he continued to spank my heated flesh. Although I was turned on to the point of saturation, I could not take the bitter sting and moved my hands to deflect his again.
“Right, fine,” he growled. “Stretch your arms straight out in front of you.”
“Now,” he barked, and I complied, chocolate sticking and slipping along each limb as I extended them forward through what was left of the chocolate slick. He walked around to the front of me again, his apron in his hand. He wound the cotton cloth around my wrists and tied it in a knot so my handswere held immobile above my head.
“Right.” He picked up a wooden spatula from the table opposite, the kind with little rectangular holes running down the middle and walked away again out of my sight. I questioned how I ended up like that, tied, covered in chocolate and at his mercy. I could only think that he’d harnessed the secret submissive in my soul and I was helpless to resist his domination. The slap of the spatula was lighter yet more torturous than the tap of his hand.The whooshing sound scared me, and the crack and sting to my buttocks had me screaming with pain and arousal.
“Beautiful,” he crooned, as his fingers gently traced over the point of impact, his tender touch aroused me even more than the spanking, and I craved more of it. After each slap of the spatula, his fingers soothed my flesh, and I began to welcome the stinging as the prelude to his sensual caress.
“Enough,” he growled the word. “Stand up, and turn to face me.”
I straightened, bending my elbows and bringing my bound hands together in front of me as if I were venerating him as my leader. He stared at me for a moment, his gaze taking in the bound hands, the chocolate-smudged breasts, the long, exposed legs in little ankle boots, that must look ridiculous with my general nakedness. A noise rumbled from his chest to his lips and sent my senses into overdrive. He ripped off his T-shirt, his apron already wrapped around my wrists, and strode over.
He pushed me until my bum was level with the table. His legs rested between my thighs, his arms around my waist, and he lifted me onto the table, with no outward sign of exertion. I wanted to run my hands up and down his shoulder muscles. They bulged so magnificently, I guessed that baking built good upper body strength. It must have done for him to lift me with so little effort. It was strange how his next action seemed so much more intimate, so much more sexual than anything that had gone before. As he rested between my thighs, he cupped my cheeks with his strong, slightly sticky hands and leant in for a long, hard and demanding kiss. It pulled my desire through me and I found it all to be displayed there, where our lips touched and met. He could feel how turned on I was. I smelled my own heavy, sexual musk and I was sure he could too, how desperate I was for this, for him, and I did not feel embarrassed. I felt empowered as he forced his tongue between my lips and I pressed my pelvis up, longing to feel his fingers, his tongue or his cock thrust inside me there.
“Fuck, you’re hot,” he groaned as he pulled away from my lips and kissed down my neck, sucking and licking up drying chocolate patches. He had to suck hard to extract the chocolate from my skin, and I especially enjoyed this treatment over my breasts and my sensitive nipples.
Hot, huh? Pick up your copy here for more! Now check out the other Sunday Snogs which I am sure are just as scorching!