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It’s pain and pleasure mixed into one. The more I think about getting between her thighs, the more excited I get, only to realize I’ll have to wait. The thrill that runs through me settles in my balls, making them feel full and heavy.
I know nothing will relieve that except emptying myself inside her. The thought of what I give her taking root and her growing round with my child makes my cock twitch in my pants.
No, I can’t wait.
We don’t have time to fuck. I delayed us enough already, but I’ve killed enough people mid-coitus to know there’s more than one way to scratch this itch.
Charlotte has simmered down and no longer fights me, making keeping her in my arms much easier as I open the driver’s side door, my truck loudly protesting as the metal squeaks.
The sound is too loud in the stillness of the cold night air. It brings the woman in my arms out of her thoughts, and suddenly, my good girl is gone.
Her squirms force me to bend and drop her onto the cab seat. No sooner does her cute ass touch down than she tries to flee past me.
Running will not be tolerated, and that’s a lesson my girl will learn right fucking now.
A growl rips out of my throat as her little body shoots past me. My girl is quick, but I’m faster. My arm launches out over her shoulder, and I latch my hand onto her throat.
The noise that escapes her is like nothing I’ve heard her make before. A cross between a gasp and a choke.
I want to hear it again, only this time as she swallows my cock.
But first, a swift lesson.
Pulling Charlotte in close, I inhale the smell of her, her messy hair tickles my face where most of it has escaped her hair tie.
Together, we stand there, our chests heaving. The cold night burns at my lungs.
“You will not do that again,” I warn her.
She doesn’t respond, but I don’t need her to.
I shuffle forward, using the sheer size and strength of my own body to guide her back to the opening between the truck door and the cab bench.
“I’m going to lift you. Once in the truck, you will lie on your side, your ass touching the back of the seat, legs bent. Your knees will point toward the steering wheel,” I order. “Do you understand?”
Charlotte nods, but with a tightening of my hand, I wordlessly demand her to speak.
“Yes.”
When the pressure remains, my good girl adds, “Sir . . . Yes, sir.”
Perfect.
I release her but regret it instantly as her body leaves mine. Charlotte has placed both hands onto the seat and starts to lift herself in.
The little hop she does before placing a knee onto the bench makes me chuckle. I guess we can’t all be six feet seven.
The glare she sends me over her shoulder lets me know she is not impressed and also earns her raised ass a nice slap.
I watch and wait as she crawls farther in, turns and lays down on her side, her knees bent and facing the front of the truck . . . just like I told her.
“Good girl,” I praise her.
A shiver runs through her at my words.
I need her closer, and the ruffling of the tree leaves around us is a reminder that I need to hurry.
I would say the quicker we handle the punishment, the quicker we get to enjoy what will come after, but I’m pretty sure I’m about to enjoy this just as much.
