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“Lucas, just sit there and watch,” I say as I turn on the sex toy. His eyes zero in on the space between my legs, and as I open them, his hands clench at his sides. “Tell me, what would we have done on our date?”
“I would have gone on any ride you wanted, then when you said you were hungry, I would have fed you…”
I place it between my legs, and his eyes go feral with need as he licks his lips.
“Carry on.”
“After you finished eating, I would have asked you to follow me.”
He stops as the vibrator hits that perfect spot.
“Lucas.”
“Hmm,” he hums.
When I glance at him, I see his hand on his cock, stroking it back and forth while he watches me intently.
“Continue…”
“I would have taken you to the disabled bathroom, sat your ass on the counter, and ate you for my lunch.”
“Well, I like the sound of that,” I tell him as my eyes fall closed. “Fuck.” I push the toy inside me, and I hear a loud bang. When I open my eyes, he’s gone. I pause my show, but only for a second before I see Lucas coming back, and he’s carrying a tool. He stalks to the door, his cock straining.
“Lucas, tell me more.”
“You need to stop,” he all but growls.
“I can’t.”
“Stop, Chanel.” My hand pauses when I note he’s trying to undo the lock on the door.
“What do you plan to do?” I ask, dropping my vibrator and replacing it with my fingers. I push them in, then pull them out and show him. “Would you taste me?” I ask, my legs still spread. “Maybe even… spank me?” I raise my eyebrows up and down a few times.
“Oh, you are getting fucking spanked, make no mistake about that.”
I laugh at his words.
Eventually, he unlocks the door and pulls it open. He turns off the spray, then reaches down and lifts me, throwing me over his shoulder and walking me to his bedroom, where he tosses me on the bed. When I go to move, I’m dragged back to him and placed over his lap as if I have been a very naughty girl.
I was naughty.
Very naughty.
“Tell me, who is a bad girl?” he asks.
“Why? Didn’t like my show?” I tease, looking at him over my shoulder.
His hand rubs my ass in slow circles. “That was not what I asked. Last time,” he says, still rubbing. “Who is a bad girl?”
“Me,” I whisper, and the palm of his hand comes down on my ass. The spank makes a squeal leave my lips, the sting both sensual and hard. “I answered,” I tell him.
“Tell me, who is a bad girl?”
“Me,” I repeat.
Another smack.
This time, I open my legs a little, and he chuckles.
