Page 58 of King of Temptation

Once she was close enough, he reached for her hand, pulling her down over his lap. The couch gave her room to stretch out her legs, which was much more comfortable than the first time he’d spanked her with her literally draped over his thighs.

Cupping one bare asscheek, he gave it a firm squeeze, his chest rumbling with quiet laughter as he did so. “I might have to keep you like this, menace.”

“Like what?”

“Wearing nothing but my t-shirt, your ass and cunt available to me whenever I want them.”

Fucking hell, that shouldn’t be so hot. She hated the word cunt, but something about hearing it in his gravelly voice, with that hint of his homeland whispering through his words had her clenching her thighs together against the growing ache.

“None of that,” he scolded, punctuating the command with a stinging swat to her bottom. “Daddy wants to see how wet your pretty little pussy gets while he spanks you. Legs apart.”

Whimpering more at the throbbing of her clit than the sting from that single spank, she forced her thighs to part, giving him a bird’s-eye view of her dripping pussy.

“Good girl.”

His praise shot straight to her clit, and she had to swallow down another whimper. Was it possible to get off just from the sound of someone’s voice? Because she was pretty sure she was about to do exactly that.

His hand brushed over the spot he’d just spanked and she arched up, pushing her ass against his palm, earning her another of those low chuckles in response. “Patience, menace. First, tell Daddy why you’re being spanked.”

How the hell was she supposed to think through the haze of lust clouding her brain? “I–I was naughty.”

“No, baby. That’s not why. Try again.”

She whined, low and needy, her hips lifting again, her body instinctively begging for more of his touch as he continued stroking her backside. “Because… Because I’m a shitty person and I deserve it.”

The hand on her ass went still, and when he spoke again his voice was a low growl that sent shivers of fear racing up her spine. “Keep talking about my girl like that and you will be learning the difference between a spanking for stress relief and a real punishment, menace.”

It was tempting to push him, to force him to give her what she knew deep in her heart she deserved.

But there was that part of her, the part that wanted to be his good girl, that wanted to earn his praise and his approval. And it was that part he was tapping into now, making her flush with shame at the knowledge she wasn’t giving him what he’d demanded of her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice already thick with tears even though this wasn’t, according to him, a punishment.

His sigh washed over her, making her cringe internally at how disappointed the sound was. “It’s okay, baby. I know this is hard, but it’s important to me that you understand why I’m spanking you. Can you be a good girl and tell me the real reason?”

Be a good girl. If anyone had tried to tell her a month ago that those words would turn her into a submissive puddle at his feet—or over his lap, as it were—she would have laughed in their faces.

Now… Now she didn’t know how she’d lived nearly thirty years without hearing them from him.

“You’re spanking me because I asked. Because I feel so guilty about what happened.”

“That’s my girl. Daddy’s going to spank you now, and no matter what, once this is over you will not spend one more second blaming yourself for last night. Am I making myself clear, little girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.” It was a lie, because who else could she blame? But it was what he wanted to hear, and she so badly wanted to be his good girl.

“Good. I’m going to hold you to that, menace, because if I catch you saying one single word about last night being your fault after this, I will put a nice fat plug in your ass and make you write lines until you can’t see straight.”

She didn’t even have time to process his threat—or the way her pussy clenched at the mention of being plugged—before his hand snapped against her bare skin. The sting spread, not nearly as intense as the first time she’d been over his lap, but enough for her to feel every inch of skin where his hand had connected with her ass.

“Fucking hell, I could get addicted to seeing my handprint on your ass.”

Pride welled in her chest, which seemed silly since she hadn’t actually done anything. But it was there anyway, warming all those cold places inside her she hadn’t even realized needed warming until right then.

Again he swatted her, and her hips rose to meet his hand, a low moan slipping from her lips as the fresh sting spread across her skin.

“Such a responsive little thing,” he murmured, running his hand over the slight burn left behind by his hand. “Daddy’s good girl.”

He went on like that, spanking her twice before rubbing the sting from her skin, all while praising her, telling her what a good girl she was for him, how pretty she looked over his lap with her bottom turning such a beautiful shade of pink. And every swat, every word of praise seemed to fill a void inside of her, chasing away the shadows of fear and guilt from the night before.