The Switch by Christine Denham

flushed and her muscles clamping
almost painfully around his dick. A fine layer of sweat broke out
across his body. He felt feverish with the effort to keep still
while she used him for her own satisfaction. His eyes rolled back
and squeezed shut, a pathetic whimper escaping him as she slid off
his tortured cock. The cool air hitting the moisture that coated
him made him gasp.
    His attention was drawn back as Marion
pulled the gag from his mouth. Her eyes were bright and wild, and
he knew then that she was far from done.
    “Please,” he rasped desperately. The word
was almost foreign to him; he wasn’t the begging type, ever. But he
couldn’t bear much more.
    “Shh, love,” Marion cooed, pressing her
thumb to his lips. “Didn’t free that talented mouth for you to
speak just yet, now.”
    When she kissed him, it was hard and
demanding, and he found himself giving all he could in a silent
plea of lips and tongue. Pleading for what, he didn’t know. It
wasn’t just release he needed anymore. He wanted to touch her,
please her – certainly. But he also needed to regain control, to
torment her the way she had him, to hear her beg, plead, and
finally cry out her release at his command.
    Despite the heady rush Grayson had felt in
truly and completely submitting to her – to anyone – for the first
time, the need to take back the upper hand was stalking his mental
perimeter. Not only for his own sake, but to give this to her in
return. It was clear she knew what she was doing as his Domme, but
had she ever tasted the other side? As much as he wanted to command
her, he wanted her to feel this as well.
    With a nip to his bottom lip, Marion pulled
away, flashing him a mischievous grin. The mattress jostled and
bounced him as she got to her feet and situated herself over his
shoulders. He gazed up at her as she raked her fingers through his
hair, her nails scratching his scalp gently. Her grinned softened
into a sultry curve and she tilted her head to look down at him,
those long, ebony waves forming a curtain around her face.
    “Want a taste?” she teased lewdly,
undulating her hips toward him.
    Grayson bit back a smart-assed reply.
Whether intended or not, she’d just offered him his golden
opportunity to turn the tables. He dipped his head slightly,
brushing his lips across the neatly trimmed thatch of hair hovering
over his chin. “Yes, please,” he muttered before planting a
worshipful kiss against her mound.
    Air hissed through her teeth on a sharp
inhale. Pressing more firmly to those damp folds, Grayson’s senses
were flooded with female sex; that moist heat between her thighs,
the wonderfully familiar tang filling his nostrils and teasing his
tongue. A tiny sigh escaped her as she moved against him. His
nerves, already taut and frayed with his own need, suddenly jolted
with searing heat as he darted his tongue out, sliding between
those honeyed lips with a groan. His hands clenched impotently as
he fought the urge to jerk against his restraints once more.
Instead, he delved deeper, grinning against her wetness before
beginning a slow, torturous assault with his mouth.
    Threading her fingers through his and
bracing herself against his hands and the bedframe, Marion hunched
over Grayson. Her thighs tensed around his face as she ground
herself against his mouth.
    “Oh, god, Gray,” she panted raggedly. Her
movements became frantic, her nails digging painfully into his
knuckles. “That’s it… c’mon…”
    Rather than heeding her encouragements to
push her over that edge, Grayson slowed his movements. Dragging his
tongue in a deliberate path from her entrance to her clit and back
again, he kept just out of reach of Marion’s satisfaction.
    “Damn it, Jones.” She gave a frustrated
grunt as she tried to push harder against him.
    He chuckled, dodging out of the way, and
nipped the tender flesh of her mons before teasing again with a
quick swipe that made her cry out. He wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t voice
his