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Hard.
There was a white mark on his cheek for a long, heart-stopping second before it turned a deeply satisfying shade of pink.
“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’d rather freeze to death,” I countered.
His chest rose and fell with visible restraint. His irises had shifted into a deep navy-blue shadow, and I felt even more anxious than ever before. It looked like I might have crossed some unknown invisible line.
“You’re testing my patience, human,” he warned.
I tried to swing my other arm in an attempt to slap him again, but he caught my wrist with ease. Then he threw me over his shoulder and carried me over to the fire, where he sat down and moved me so that I was in his lap.
I wasn’t sitting in it. I was lyingface downover it.
The realization of that left me shellshocked for a long minute, so much so that a part of my mind convinced me that it wasn’t even happening and this was all a dream, at least until his arm settled on my waist.
This felt like it was real.
“I want to make one thing very clear, human. You will not slap me again,” he continued.
I tried to push myself up, but he swept my fur mantle aside, revealing the blue jeans I was wearing underneath. My mouth opened as shock raced through my system.
This couldn’t be happening.
“Do you know where you are? What this place is?”
“No,” I whispered, becoming increasingly nervous about my position. When his palm settled on my jean-covered backside, I stilled as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.
“This is my realm, human. You’re no longer in yours. You’re in Icegard,” he explained, keeping his hand right where it was. My mind hyper focused on that single detail, making it difficult to think of anything else.
He was touching my ass. No man had ever touched me there before.
That realization was one of the most harrowingly polarizing of my life. I stilled, trying to reconcile with my position and the information he’d just revealed, and not knowing which one I needed to focus on the most.
“This isn’t Earth?” I tried. I blinked, my desperate ploy to pretend this was some crazy fantasy shriveling away by the second.
His hand still hadn’t moved, seemingly glued to my bottom, and my heart pounded frantically in my chest.
What was happening?
“No. You’re far from it,” he replied. His hand still didn’t move, and it was making me increasingly uneasy. This big strong man had put me over his knee.
Did he mean to spank me?
No.
That couldn’t be right, could it? What else would explain the position he’d chosen? Why else would his palm be where it was right now?
“Wait, what are you doing?” I finally whispered, unable to stop myself. I needed to ask because I didn’t believe it.
With all the strength left in my body, I fought, and it was equally demoralizing how easily he held me in place, like I was nothing more than a little bird struggling to get out of its cage. When I finally realized that I wasn’t going anywhere, I stopped moving, more out of disbelief than anything else. With one hand around my waist, he used the other to grip the waistband of my stretchy blue jeans. I stopped breathing as he pulled them down, leaving only the thin lacey fabric of my panties covering all my private bits.
I didn’t know why that tiny realization gave me a powerful sense of relief. In reality, I should be furious that he’d pulled my pants down and pinned me over his knees, not that my pussy was covered when he did it.
My clit throbbed like it was protesting.
Why did a part of me also want him to pull them down? Did I want him to see?
You’re writing yourself a one-way ticket to crazy town, Ella.
