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“I told you,” he says, a sinfully sharp edge to his tone. “There would be consequences.”
I nod. Eagerly. I want his consequences.
What the fuck? This is not me. But I flip onto my stomach with enthusiasm. I let him push my knees beneath me, and press my neck down, my cheek against the duvet. He places my palms against the mattress above my head.
“Keep those hands where I can see them.”
I moan something that he must understand as consent. Which it definitely is.
He rubs his hands over my ass cheeks, groping, pinching, spreading. Then he plunges two fingers inside my pussy.
“Oh my god,” I nearly shout on a moan.
His fingers pump fast and hard, and it’s everything I can do not to scream out for him. His pace is demanding, his rhythm relentless. I’m so close. I think I tell him this in a low, breathless grunt. He gets me right to the edge. I’m about to fall over—and he pulls out.
“Please,” I moan, begging him for the second time in a night to keep going. To push me over the edge. But instead, he spanks me. Hard.
I gasp, shocked. The skin he smacked prickles, the heat from his slap leaving the skin exposed to the cooler air. The skin warms, pulsing in a new kind of heat. I moan as the heat flutters between my legs.
“Is that okay?” he asks. His voice is tense as he rubs his fingers, the heel of his hand, against my ass. I push against his hand, needing more. “I need you to answer me, princess.”
“Yes,” I moan. It’s throaty and breathy and sounds nothing like me. His hand stills, his fingers ghosting over my seam.
“Do you want more?” He’s quieter, softer, but no less potent.
Do I? Is that what I want? As his palm glides over my hot, achy skin, I know exactly what I want.
I want more. So much more.
“Yes.”
He does it again. But this time my gasp sounds like a porn star moan. I don’t even know where it came from. A third time. A fourth time. And I’m moaning, lifting my ass to receive what he’s dishing out, relishing in the intensity of his strike.
“Derek,” I groan as he plunges his fingers back into my tight channel. The noises coming from my mouth are like something out of a bad porno, but I can’t control them. My body is shaking, my pussy squelching around his fingers. I feel the heat rising, climbing.
He pulls out again.
“Fuck me,” I beg, grinding down on the mattress, spreading my legs, trying to get some relief.
He repositions me and plants a kiss to my tailbone. It is exquisite, the warm, light pressure of his lips, the feathery flick of his tongue. I hear the familiar tear of foil.
“You want me to spank you until you come? Or you want me to fuck you?” He groans from behind me, letting his heavy erection fall against my tailbone.
I lift my ass to grind against it. But he doesn’t give me what I want.
Is it possible that I could come from being spanked? The idea seems so ludicrous, so filthy, and a decadent shiver rolls over my skin. My pussy clenches, wanting to be filled with him. The decision is made.
“Fuck me,” I say again.
“What do you want me to fuck you with?”
“Your cock.”
“What was that?”
“Your long, hard cock,” I say as his fingers ghost over the tight rosette at my back. I moan at the sensation, and I feel him hesitate.
He runs his fingers over it again and I moan louder this time. He flips me over suddenly, and I gasp as he towers over me, spreading my thighs and just staring at the way his sheathed dick rests on my clit. He rubs it between my folds until I’m squirming, panting, and whispering nonsensical obscenities.
