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The grip of his hand on her thigh hardened and kept her in place as he continued to stroke her lightly, just skimming her heat.
“You're dripping wet, Kensley,” he murmured, sliding his finger between her folds.
To mask any hint of the wet, tumultuous storm inside her, she chose to shield herself with a nonchalant response.
“You wish,” she said.
He sank a little more into her; his touch was delicate, but it seared her as if he were a furnace enveloping her. She wished she had produced a better response than the one she had just given.
But then he cupped the whole of her pussy, pressing his palm against her lips, deliberately avoiding her clit and she forgot her name. He only made her wetter, igniting inside her the strangest craving, one she had never felt before.
“Who do you belong to?”
Stubbornly, she remained silent. He started to stroke her then, wetting his fingers now. Her thighs began to quiver. She wanted to press against his hand, delirious with this unwanted fever he inflicted on her. He stroked her clit with his thumb, and a rush of liquid slipped out of her.
“Who do you belong to?”
She bit into her lip. Cows could jump over the moon before she gave him the answer his ego wanted to hear.
“Come now. You're making a mess on my trousers with your wetness, Kensley, and I haven’t even started spanking you yet. Answer the question.”
God help her, but she just couldn’t take any more. The embarrassing flush in her whole body threatened to send her up in flames. Why couldn’t she stop getting wet?
“You. I belong to you,” she blurted. “You sick bastard,” she said under her breath. His deep chuckle didn't go unnoticed. “Can you just get on with this silly little spanking of yours? I have other things to do.”
The first resounding slap of his massive hand on her never-before-touched bottom shook her entire body. She was so astounded that outrage tore from her throat.
“Oh my god, you actually hit me,” she yelled, twisting her body around to look at him. He held her down without any effort, and by the time his second and third strikes fell, she was struggling to regulate her breathing.
Still, up to the point of being on his lap, she had thought he was just messing with her. But he spanked her. Hard. Thrice already. And she wasn’t okay.
“You—”
He didn't wait for the insult she was mustering up for him. Oh, no. Another open palm slash across her butt shattered her nerves and made her grit her teeth. He stole her words and left her with nothing but hissing shouts and incoherent sounds as he continued to spank her.
She couldn't believe this was happening to her. If her gramps knew about this, Hunter McLeod would have his balls shot off.
“Still think my spankings are silly little things, sweetheart?” His voice, rough and smooth, cascaded over her, similar to the heat spreading over the flesh of her butt.
The pain was red-hot and had her squirming across his lap.
“Hmm...?” he prompted. She wanted to tell him to go to hell. He palm-pounded her again. She became hopelessly attuned to the rough power in his hand, every cell tingling against her as he handed out another wallop on her very sore bottom.
“No,” she squealed as he delivered yet another one. There was nothing little about his spanking at all. Her poor bottom burned like hell times infinity. She could feel herself dripping onto his thigh, saturating his pants.
“Are you done?” she asked, her voice choked with tears and humiliation that she couldn’t control her responses to him.
She didn’t wait for him to release her. Instead, she wasted no time lifting herself off his lap, then discarding the instant cold that washed over her from not being near him again. She folded her arms over her chest as more tears threatened to burst from her eyes. She sucked them up quickly and glared at him.
She was not even impressed anymore by his defined body. But as a precaution, she kept her eyes off his chest, abs, shoulders, and biceps and channeled all her energy on her smarting-hot backside, which he had given her.
His gaze drifted over her face, his look thoughtful. “I think perhaps you need a token of your punishment, something to remind you of why you were spanked in the first place.”
Chapter Twelve
Nothing that came out of his mouth boded well for her, and Kensley had been in his company long enough to know that was just the plain truth.
“What?” Kensley asked, super annoyed and confused. She just wanted to be shown to her room so she could comprehend in peace what had just happened to her.
