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He juts his chin at me. “Take it off.”
I step out of the dress.
“Thong too,” he says. “Keep the jewelry. I’ll let you decide if you take off the shoes.”
The heels make me feel sexy. I slide the thong down my thighs and over the elegant red evening shoes.
“Perfect,” he says, cutting a path with his gaze over me from top to bottom. He takes a cushion from the sofa and throws it at the edge of the bed. “Kneel.”
He grips my hand and helps me down.
“Push your upper body down on the bed. I want to see your ass and your pussy.”
I glance at him from over my shoulder as I comply. My throat goes dry when he unbuckles his belt. I remember how much it hurt, but I also remember the heat that crawled into my skin and through my body to gather between my legs.
“Mr. Russo,” I croak, suddenly scared.
“Shh,” he says, pulling the belt from the loops of his waistband and settling me with a hand on my lower back. “You deserve this punishment.”
“Do I?” I whisper.
“Did you greet me as you should?”
“You know why I didn’t.”
He bends over me and kisses my shoulder. “Don’t make excuses. You will always greet me naked and on your knees. If there are people in the house, you will do it in the privacy of our bedroom.”
My mind gets stuck on the our. Our bedroom. Not your bedroom. Something warm unfurls in my belly. I’m sick for wanting this. I’m weak for craving his affection. His approval. For wanting what the Powells have.
But when the first lash falls over my ass cheeks, I close my eyes and forget everything. Heat blooms over my skin, but it doesn’t hurt. Not much. Not enough to draw tears. Only enough to want more. He doesn’t disappoint me. He aims the next blow with the same meticulous force, hitting the back of my thighs. More heat seeps into my skin. When the belt falls more gently between my legs, my clit swells and throbs. I’m wet already, the need that builds in my lower body demanding more friction.
He times the next three swats perfectly, one following after the other over the fleshy part of my globes, leaving me breathless and moaning. He taps my clit with the leather, warning me of his intention, and deals another soft blow right between my thighs, following it up with one on the seam of my ass.
“Will you kneel for me, bella?”
“Yes,” I cry out, pressing my hips against the bed in an effort to find release.
“Will you take off your clothes and spread your legs to show me what’s mine?”
“Yes,” I moan.
He whacks me a little harder, stealing my breath, and then the buckle makes a clang as the belt hits the floor. I open my eyes and push my cheek against the cool covers. He unzips and pushes his pants with his briefs over his hips. His cock juts out, hard and thick. He spits in his palm before rubbing himself.
“Do you want this, cara?”
“Yes,” I say again. I always wanted him. I hate that I do, but I can’t help myself. I can’t reprogram my body’s reaction.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, teasing my dark hole with the smooth head of his cock.
I slip a hand between my legs and rub my clit the way he usually does.
“That’s right,” he says, stroking his palm up my spine. “Open for me.”
His fingers are on top of mine, playing with me, manipulating my movements. I open my legs wider, giving him better access. He gathers my arousal and traces the line of my slit all the way to my back hole. I expect him to take me there, but he shoves his cock with a single thrust inside my pussy. The pressure on my dark hole doesn’t vanish. It turns more intense, the fullness increasing as the muscles stretch and finally give with a pop.
I look at him, battling to focus. He’s fucking my pussy while stretching my ass with a finger. Two fingers. The sensations are incredible. Overwhelming. I’m burning up inside. Flames crawl over my skin.
He pumps with a leisurely pace, taking his time to prepare me. The pleasure builds already, and just when I think it’s going to be too late, that I’m going to come, he pulls out and replaces his fingers with his cock.
