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I nip my lip before setting the words free. “I want to learn. But I need you to teach me.”
“I’m going to give you what you need. So that next time you do what you’re told.”
Next time.I’m too shocked, too aroused to form words right now. I nod into his pinched fingers, feeling the strength of his grip pushing the insides of my cheeks against my teeth.
The buzzing between us is alive and something inside me shifts. Somehow I know he is testing me.
“Then give me what you think I need,” I say, each word its own little challenge.
His eyes soften, his brow loosens, but that air of pure cockiness remains. His strong hands move down my body, guiding me to the side. He takes a seat on the bed. Even seated, he’s almost as tall as me. Sparks ignite over my skin, turning into rivers of temptation wherever he touches.
His deep blue eyes lock onto mine. A part of me saysrun.But another part of me says to push him down and ride him like the mechanical bull at the country bar across from where I work.
“We’re family…” It’s a fact and a problem.
“You’re fucking right about that. So get over my knee, little girl. Daddy’s got something for you.”
He guides my body down and every muscle tightens as I realize what he is planning barely processing that he just referred to himself as Daddy.
“Oh comeon,” I stutter, a little angry now. “It was just a kiss, Trent. Just a kiss. We can forget it ever happened.”
“That’s not going to work and you know it. So be a good fucking girl and bend over.”
My whole body is washed with warm desire. My whole mind is spinning with need.
I’m shaking as he pulls me down, laying me over the hardness of his thigh muscle. There’s a low buzzing in my ears as the weight of a firm, lethal hand holds the back of my neck, pushing my cheek into the bedding. The tightness of his grip spins me into a panic and it fuels my urge to run.
But the other part of me, that other urge, it’s stronger. The need to stay overpowers the need to flee.
“You’re a naughty little girl, Kitty Kat. And naughty girls will be corrected.”
Trent raises the hem of my dress and fire erupts over my skin once more. There’s the dance of fabric tracing up the backs of my thighs then over my panties as I hear him growl, as his cock firms beneath my belly and I squeeze those inner muscles, urging the pleasure forward.
“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking perfect. Your hot, greedy little pussy is going to wreck me. I know it already.”
Oh mygod.I let my head drop as I give in to the forbidden desire for the boy who slept just on the other side of the wall from me growing up. I growl against the side of the bed.
“Trent. Please.”
“There you go,” his voice is soothing but stern. “Naughty girls get punished. Good girls know how to beg. Which one are you?”
Through my haze and need, I see us together there. Brother and sister. Me over his knee. Alone in the bedroom. With his cock pressing unmercifully into my stomach. I feel the ridge through his pants against my belly button and my pussy starts to gush.
“Good, I’m good but we… we can’t. We just…”
“Have I ever fucking let you down? Have I ever not taken care of you?” His deep voice melts through me from above, as his rough finger hooks the elastic of my panties, slipping them over ass. A wave of goosebumps tickles the back of my thighs and I suddenly become painfully aware of my softness, my plumpness, against this hard marble-like body.
Suddenly, all the years of insecurity, every nasty catcall from Henry Weaver floods back to me. A storm of pain and hurt. Trent could have any woman he wants. Any woman in the world. The thin ones, the beautiful ones. All of them. I wriggle away, trying to reach behind myself to pull the hem of my dress back down.
He slaps my hand away, hard. “Don’t you fucking dare. But you get one chance, right now. You hear me? If you don’t want this, this is the last fucking opportunity you’ll ever have to tell me. Once we go here, there is no coming back.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. I stare at the cream-colored carpet. The tops of his boots. I feel his strength and power and my heart tumbles inside out. My mind stops and starts, trying to find the words, so unsure of what to say, what to do as Trent’s hands begin to caress my flesh, coiling my belly into a tangle of emotions, a burst of butterflies.
Do I want this?
All those years while he was away, and even all those years before he left, he was and has always been the only man I ever wanted. The only person I ever needed.
I am too nervous to answer. Instead, I move my hand down from my skirt, letting myself be exposed, and lower it onto the solidness of his thigh. I rub the rough seam of the fabric beneath my fingertips. The heat of his quad against my palm.
