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“Excuse me?”
She took a hasty step back, clutching her hands tighter against herself. “I have a weighted blanket. At home. It helps with anxiety. Your arm was heavy. I thought it was my blanket. That’s why I… Stop looking at me!” she shouted.
I smothered the laughter that threatened to bubble up. “I like looking at what’s mine,” I told her truthfully.
“I’m not yours,” she defied me, although her tone was high and thin rather than acidic.
I couldn’t allow that kind of defiance of my claim over her. I finally got out of bed and prowled toward her.
Her remarkable eyes flicked down my body. I wished her eyes were widening in response to my physique, but I knew she was only seeing the raised scars that marred my chest and abdomen.
But I was too intrigued by her to get caught up in my dark memories.
She shrank back, trembling.
“My brother was right,” I said. “Your eyes are lovely when you’re frightened. Wide and blue. Like a pretty doll.” I took another step toward her. “Am I so terrifying, sirenita?” The Colombian endearment slipped off my tongue without a thought.
She dodged away, but there was nowhere for her to go. Her back hit the window, and she glanced behind her at the Chicago skyline. She yelped and tried to push away from the dizzying view, but I closed the distance between us. She smacked into my chest, and I didn’t give her the opportunity to evade me.
Her fighting spirit returned. I saw it in the flash of her eyes just before she attacked. Her fist swung wildly, and I didn’t bother to evade it. She lightly connected with my jaw, but I barely felt the impact. Then she brought her knee up. I wasn’t willing to allow that particular blow to land. I shifted so my thigh blocked her before she could knee me in the balls.
I frowned down at her in disapproval. I couldn’t let that slide. I might find her efforts to fight me intriguing, but she needed to learn that I wouldn’t permit her to truly harm me.
I handled her carefully but firmly as I gripped her waist and turned her away from me. I dropped to my knees, taking her down with me and positioning her over my thighs so her pert little ass was raised for my discipline.
She continued to struggle, trying to push up onto her hands and knees. I caught her wrists and secured them at the small of her back with one hand. Without her hands to support her, she folded over my lap, her cheek coming to rest on the plush carpet.
She made a fierce little sound, like an angry kitten. I allowed myself a moment to savor it before bringing my hand down on her ass, administering her first spanking. She shrieked and writhed, kicking out as she tried to avoid the sting of my palm.
But she wasn’t going anywhere. She would feel the heat of my discipline and learn her lesson. “Don’t ever try that again,” I admonished. “You will not fight me.” I struck her upper thigh, and she howled out her rage. “You belong to me. You will accept your place.”
“Stop fucking saying that!” she shouted.
I increased the intensity of my next blow, ensuring she felt the sting of my rebuke. “I get to say what I want. I get to do what I want. You will learn to mind your tongue. You will learn to behave. You’re mine, cosita. Mine to play with. Mine to punish. Mine.”
A strange kind of fever overtook me as I spoke the words, and my cock began to stiffen against her belly.
“No,” she tried to refuse, but the word came out on a low moan. I became aware of the musky scent of feminine arousal.
Perfect. Samantha responded to a little carnal pain. She might not realize it, but she liked being dominated. It wasn’t an uncommon reaction, but I was pleased by it.
Finally, she stilled her struggles, and a harsh sob left her chest. I immediately stopped spanking her and smoothed my palm over her burning flesh. It was meant to soothe her, but I enjoyed the heat emanating from her reddened ass. I did love seeing the glow of my discipline on her pale skin. It was every bit as lovely as I’d imagined.
“There,” I praised. “Isn’t that better? Don’t try to hurt me again, Samantha.”
I continued stroking her, and she let out a throaty groan. I was sure she didn’t realize what she was doing, but her thighs parted slightly, inviting me to touch her needy pussy. Taking advantage of the silent invitation, I touched two fingers against her soaked lower lips, exploring the silky wetness that coated them.
“You’re wet,” I confirmed. “We are going to get along, sirenita.”
“Don’t,” she squeaked, twisting against me as she renewed her struggles.
Her movements stimulated my hard cock, tormenting me. I hissed out a breath and tightened my grip on her. “Stop grinding against me,” I ordered. She was rubbing herself on me, seeking more stimulation even as she begged me to stop. “You want me touch your little clit, greedy girl?” I asked roughly, barely able to contain my desire.
She stiffened, her entire body going rigid. Despite her instinctive lustful reaction to my discipline, I’d spooked her. Her skin pebbled, and she began to shake violently.
This wasn’t the response I’d wanted at all. My desire cooled, and I turned her body so I could cradle her against my chest. I stroked her chilled skin, murmuring to her in Spanish. She might not understand the words, but I slipped into my native tongue without thinking about it.
She drew in a shuddering breath, and her shaking lessened to a light tremble.
