Page 55 of Possessive Ink

Her expression turns quizzical. “You want to brush my hair?”

“I want you to kneel for me while I brush your hair, yes,” I tell her, pointing to a spot in front of a bench.

Eyeing me cautiously, I offer her my hand, and she places her fingers against it, letting me help her sink to the floor.

“You don’t need this,” I say, smiling as I tug the towel from around her, leaving her bare as she kneels on the floor at my feet.

Fetching a wooden paddle brush from the cabinet, I take a seat on the bench behind Lemon and carefully start to work the brush through her wet hair. As I watch the wooden brush glide through the wet strands, I wonder how her perfect plump ass would look after a few spanks from this brush. Despite it not being my usual kink, I’m starting to feel a certain fascination with the idea of warming her butt and having her walk around with a hot pink ass. The heat and sting would keep me on her mind all day, reminding her over and over that she’s mine.

“Have you ever been spanked?” I blurt without thought.

“No,” she gasps. “Apart from yesterday when you…” Her words soften so much that if she says anything more, I don’t hear it.

“That wasn’t me spanking you. That was me reminding you who was in control,” I tell her. “If I spanked you, I’d put you over my knee, then warm your ass with this hairbrush until it was hot and pink all over. I wouldn’t hurt you, but I’d make it so you’d feel me for the rest of the day.”

She’s not looking at me, but I see the way she swallows and hear the hitch in her soft breaths.

“I think I’d enjoy that, and I think you’d enjoy it too,” I coo softly, rhythmically pulling the brush through her hair.

“But it’d hurt,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Not how you’re thinking. Impact play and pain aren’t my thing. But the thought of you carrying my mark on your ass all day makes my dick really fucking hard, Princess.”

“I don’t know,” she says after a long moment.

“Why don’t you spend today thinking about it? Thinking about going to work with your skin warm and flushed pink from where I’d spanked you. Every time you moved or sat, you’d think about me. Every time the fabric of your dress brushed over your butt, you’d remember how it felt to lay across my legs, how it made you feel to give yourself over to me completely.”

She doesn’t speak, but her breathing becomes shallow, her shoulders rising and falling a little quicker. I glance down her body, and her nipples are peaked and harder than a moment ago, and I’d lay money that if I reached between her legs, she’d be wet.

“I’ll think about it,” she whispers.

“Let’s get dressed. We need to eat,” I say, smiling to myself as I place the hairbrush in her line of sight, then hold my hand out to help her to her feet.

Her pupils are blown wide as she lets me lead her to the cabinet I hung her dresses in. Instead of stepping away, I stay close while she selects an outfit, taking it from her and carrying it over to the drawer I put her bras in.

“I need panties,” she breathes.

“No, you don’t,” I tell her simply.

“Atticus, I can’t leave this apartment without any underwear.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m wearing a dress. Because I don’t want to end up flashing some poor tourist because I won’t be wearing any panties.” She lists her reasons like they’re all super valid, not like they’re excuses.

Unhooking her dress from the hanger, I offer it to her, waiting while she positions her breasts in her bra.

“Atticus, I need panties,” she reiterates, sliding the dress over her head.

Before it’s even halfway on, she tugs it back off again, then unfastens the bra she just put on, drops it back into the drawer, then pulls the dress back over her head, smoothing the frothy pink and white fabric down her luscious body until it clings to her curves, then falls in a waterfall of fabric almost to the floor.

On the hanger it just looked like a pretty dress, but until she put it on, I had no idea how fucking sexy it really is. As she twists and wiggles the straps into place, my dick gets harder and harder.

The front of the dress is fairly modest, covering her chest, but the back is perfectly indecent. Thin straps curl over her shoulders, then crisscross over her shoulder blades and down her bare back to where they tie together in a bow an inch above the dimple at the top of her ass.

“Jesus,” I growl, curling my arm around her and pulling her toward me. Unable to resist, I slide my palm into the back of her dress and cup her naked ass cheek, squeezing it possessively.

“See, I need panties,” she says confidently.