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Rhett
What do I say?
I can’t believe I’m lying over his lap. Half-naked. My panties uncovered. My sweatpants around my ankles. My barely covered ass on full display. I feel his hungry gaze taking in my exposed skin.
This is humiliating. To be pinned down across his legs. Punished. Like a little girl.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet before.
God. What is wrong with me? What does my body’s reaction say about me?
Does it say I’ve got some kind of sickness? Going from an abusive man to willingly giving this one permission to spank me? My gut flips with nerves, but it tells me I’m not crazy. That I’m not sick.
I’m just attracted to strong men who like to take control. I like to be punished. I love shame. I love the pleasure in the pain. I just want to experience it on my terms. With a man who respects me. And protects me.
I don’t know this man at all, not really, but Beckett seems like that kind of man.
He has it all. Looks. Wealth. Commanding and in charge, but he makes me laugh. And he’s sexy as hell.
Beyond that?
He risked it all to save me.
So, yeah. Right now, I’m over his knee and I’m about to give him permission to pull down my panties. To spank my ass.
I’m a little nervous, to say the least. Will it hurt? How bad will it hurt? Will I like it as much as my wet pussy seems to think I will?
I say… yes.
My voice shakes as I answer him. “Y—yes.”
“I have your permission?” he asks.
“Yes.” How many times will he make me say it? “You have my permission.”
“That’s what I thought.” He smooths his hand over my thin cotton panties. It feels so good, his warm, rough skin rubbing me slowly. Instant chill bumps rise on my flesh.
But what’s to come? Will that feel good too? A ticklish shiver runs down my spine as he traces his fingertip along the elastic waistband of my panties.
As he hooks his fingertip around the elastic, I change my mind. The idea, the image of him sliding down my panties—the only thing standing between him and my naked pussy is the protection of that thin cotton—is too much.
Panic makes my heart beat faster. I roll my hips, turning to face him. “I take it back. No permission.” I press my hands into the mattress, ready to push myself up and run out of the room.
He looks down at me. As our eyes lock, a flash of heat rushes through me. His eyes stay steady on mine as he cups my chin in his hand. The light touch creating tingles that dance over my skin. My body freezes in this awkward half-turned position, him tilting my face up toward his, and I just stare.
Leaning down, he brings his face closer to mine. His tone is soft as he speaks, but there’s no mistaking the power, strength, and determination behind his words. He’s going to get what he wants, and he says, “You sure about that, Miss Rhett?”
He’s cocky. Not going to lie, it’s hot, making my thighs squeeze together, but it makes me a little ticked off too. “What makes you so sure—”
Then he leans in and kisses me. His warm, velvet lips meet mine and as the heat of his tongue presses against mine, I lose my will.
My lower body melts against the firmness of his lap. My fingers curl around the soft bedcovers, clutching them as the kiss deepens.
He pulls away, the pad of his thumb brushing against my jaw. “How about now?”
“Fine. You have my permission.” Shame flushes my cheeks as I bury my face in my hands. I hold back a moan of humiliation as he gives a deep, rumbling chuckle.
He’s laughing at me. The sound only adds to my embarrassment. Now, his hand is back on my ass, cupping my curves as he explores.
