His expression? Sososmug. “Because, while I like it when people do as they’re told, I also secretly like it sometimes when they don’t.”
“People?”
“You.”
“You want to spank me?” My tone is lower than I’d anticipated, but I put that down to his expression. No way I like the sound of being spanked.
“I want to possess you for a little while. Hear your gasp as you anticipate the contact. Make you moan when you push back onto my fingers, demanding more.”
Heat and light shoot though me, my insides as hot and as wild as a summer storm. “Sorry, I can’t see that happening.” My voice sounds wavery. I’m not lying. I can’t see it, but I can feel it viscerally.
“You’ll come around.”
“Wanna bet?” I demand, jutting out my chin. This is so confusing. Do I want to fight him or do I want him tomake me.
“It would be unfair of me to take advantage of you when you’re obviously so… het up.”
“Who’s het up? And who says spanking is taking advantage. Unless you win, fair and square.”
“It’s more like giving.”
I make another pfft sound. “Still sounds like you don’t want to lay odds. In fact, it sounds to me like someone’s aitty bit chicken.” I make chicken wings with my elbows.
“Are you… clucking?” he says, trying not to be amused.
“If the feathers fit.”
“Fine, have it your way. I’ll take your bet.”
“I bet you acoolone hundred you won’t ever get to spank me. Not without my permission.”
“I’d give you a much cooler thousand right here and right now just to try it.”
I don’t know which is the bigger shock. The money he’s offering or the fact that I’m thinking about it—not even for the money but because he’s so sure about it. So sure about me.
“No.” I rib my lips together. Meanwhile, Whit begins to make his own impersonation of a chicken.Or a cock.
I begin to turn, not for any other reason than I think I might want him to make me. “I don’t like being manipulated.”
“Is that why your cheeks are pink?”
“I think I should leave—” I half turn to deliver my edict but the next sound out of my mouth is an inhaled gasp as Whit catches my hand, spinning me into him. His thick thigh presses between mine, and his hand connects with my ass lightning fast. His arm slides around me, and he grabs a handful of my ass, then presses my body tightly to his.
“According to the Metropolitan Police’s Twitter account, you’re not going home anytime soon.” His head dips, his lips a whisper from my ear. “There’s still an unexploded bomb in a nearby garden. Nowhere to run, little fly. Nowhere to hide.
I heardbomb,and my insides bloom, probably because his hands have slipped down the back of his sweatpants, his palm now kneading my bare ass. “Are you ready to earn that cool five thousand?”
“You said one.”
“I’ll pay you ten times that.”
“Not for money,” I whisper. “Think of something more fun.”
“Fun for which of us?”
“You’re really weird.”
“No, gorgeous, I’m hard.” His hand covers mine, sliding it between us to where his sweatpants already leave little to the imagination.
