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“Completely nude,” I remind her. “It’s your chance to let your personality shine.”
“Yeah, that sounds like something out of one of my recurring nightmares.” Kara laughs. “Plus, my personality’s shit.”
“It’s not,” I reassure her. “You’re perfectly charming…when you want to be.”
Admittedly, when she swings at the bag that time, she knocks it hard enough into my chest that I finally feel it.
Who am I kidding? I’m fucking falling for this girl, and I know it, too.
After our workout, I cook us dinner. I’m worried that Kara doesn’t fucking eat enough—she’s tried every crackpot diet on the market, and frankly, it’s fucked her perception of food a little bit.
“Pasta? Really?” Kara says, eyeballing the spaghetti noodles on her plate.
“With olive oil, garlic, aaaaand…” I grate a little Pecorino on top. “Cheese. Eat up. I’m an excellent chef.”
“That’s like, ten different things that I’m not allowed to eat, Eric,” she says, staring the plate down.
Breaks my fucking heart that she doesn’t think she’s allowed to enjoy herself like that—but fuck if I’m letting her go on thinking that way.
“You need the fuel, Kara,” I say, pushing the plate a little closer to her. “If you want to work out with me, you need to eat something substantial afterward. Non-negotiable.”
“But the calories…” Kara bites her lip, looking uncertain.
“You need calories,” I inform her. “And nutrients. And you ought to fucking enjoy them, too. That’s an order.”
“Is it, now?” Kara says. Her voice is doing that sultry thing again. Makes my cock even harder. “And what if I don’t, Daddy?”
I lean in nice and close until I can feel her holding her breath.
“Then you don’t get any fucking dessert,” I growl.
“Will you take me over your knee?”
“Oh, Kara.” I chuckle darkly. “I’ll be doing that tonight no matter what.”
With the thought of another orgasm and a nice, hard spanking in mind, Kara relents. I love watching her eat—she really savors her food. Moans the whole way through the meal, too. Little slut.
I push a Protein Plus shake her way for dessert—because I know she fucking loves the things. This one is Pump-kin Spice. If she was moaning her way through the pasta course, she’s having a full fucking orgasm as she drinks down every last drop.
“God,” Kara pants, slamming the empty bottle down on the table. “I swear, those things are too fucking good to be real.”
“I think you just like them for the special ingredients,” I joke—even though, hell, that seems to be the only reason women like them.
“I think I’m still hungry, Daddy,” Kara coos, getting a wild fucking look in her eye.
“Have you licked your plate clean?”
Fluttering her eyelashes at me, Kara dips her tongue down to the olive oil still on her plate and gives it a long, lingering lick.
My cock salutes her effort through my sweatpants. She’s made me hard, she’s done a hell of a workout, and she’s even eaten my cooking.
“I’d say you’ve earned a treat,” I relent, standing.
By the time Kara is on her feet, I’m already around the table, sweeping her up in my arms and carrying her toward my bedroom.
“Is it time for my spanking?” she asks, kicking and giggling the entire way there.
“That’s not a bad place to start.”
