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“You should punish me,” I finally whispered. Saying the words out loud sounded even more shameful than I had imagined. Would he think something was wrong with me?
“How?” he growled, his tone inquisitive and endlessly seductive. This time, the rumble of his tone reverberated down my spine, casting a web of desire and catching me within it without warning. I drew in a heated breath, feeling my arousal grow hotter and hotter, and it took everything within me to stay still. His fingers reached out to brush against the sensitive skin of my throat. A spiral of desire tightened within me, connecting straight to my clit and driving me wild with need.
I said the words I’d been both dreading and wanting to say ever since I’d laid eyes on the man.
“With your cock,” I whispered, my voice a soft hush.
“Hmmm. Is that what you need?”
He reached out to brush a strand of hair out of my face, his thumb gently caressing my cheek.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I think you need far more than just a fucking, naughty girl,” he added darkly, his eyes glimmering with sordid intent. I bit the inside of my cheek, wanting to ask what he was going to do and how he was going to do it, but I stayed quiet, instead choosing to go along with the mystery of it all.
I looked up into his eyes, seeing the dark waves of seduction roll through them, growing darker until they bordered on pitch black. His smoldering gaze made me question everything.
Was I ready for this?
“I think you need a spanking to remind you of your place,” he mused.
My eyes opened wide, and there was little time to scramble backwards on the bed before he was there straddling me. He held his body around me like a prison, holding his weight off me and caging it around me. I drew in a deep breath, trying to quell the rampaging fearful need brewing inside me.
A spanking?
I started, breaking out of my fantasy for a moment. Where had that come from? I’d never imagined myself bare bottomed over a man’s knee before. Sure, I’d read about it in a few books and seen it in the movies,Fifty Shades of Greyimmediately coming to mind, but I’d never let my mind run wild with such a shameful thought. Spankings were a childish punishment, meant to deter and teach, not to put a grown woman like me in her place.
Your pussy doesn’t agree.
Even now, my fingers slid between my thighs with embarrassing ease. I was wetter than I’d ever been. Was this a simple crush, a passing fascination that would eventually fade over time, or was this something bigger than that?
Sure, I’d had sex before. I was twenty-six years old, and I’d lost my virginity at the age of eighteen. I’d dated some, but work kept me busy these days, so it had been a good, long while, maybe even a year now since I’d fucked anyone. I wasn’t well-versed in bed, but I’d been with a few men. Only one had actually made me come, but he’d been too much of a low life to even consider taking things further than a first date.
Kane was different, though. He was an entirely different breed of man.
Hesitantly, I closed my eyes and let my mind wander once again. Hell, if my pussy wanted to think about getting a spanking from big, bad Kane Lockhart, then fuck it. It would probably make my inevitable orgasm that much better.
He won’t ever know anyway.
I scoffed at my inner voice. Who was she to tell me that I’d never succeed with Kane? Maybe it was more of a slow burn with him. Maybe I just had to catch him at the right time for him to make a move? Maybe I had to be the one to do it first?
Despite his rough exterior, Kane was every part the gentleman. In a world where desire often blurred lines, he had maintained a respectful distance, his gaze a sordid caress that set my skin ablaze without ever crossing boundaries. He had listened, truly listened, when I spoke, his attention a rare gift amidst the madness of the club. There were the times when, between dances, his eyes would find mine from across the room, a silent reassurance that he was there, watching over me.
Almost like he was my protector…
It was the smallest gestures that spoke volumes, though, like the way he always ensured a glass of water, or on one occasion even a glass of wine, was waiting for me after a performance, or the time he discreetly handed me a scarf to ward off the chill in the night air so I wouldn’t be cold when I went home that night.
I laid there, trying to grapple with the dichotomy of the two sides of him. I reached up and took my left nipple in between my fingers, pinching it lightly at first, and then harder like I knew he would do. I cried out, dull pain lancing across my breast, yet I continued. I twisted as hard as I dared, my back fully lifting off the bed as I arched into the pain.
I released my stiff, punished bud and gasped when a secondary wave of pain followed. I suffered within those few moments until at long last, it faded, and I dared to slip my fingers between my thighs once more.
I bit my lip, realizing at that moment that I was much wetter than I had been before.
Pain gets you off, apparently. Nice one, you little slut.
I ignored my inner voice, choosing instead to lightly circle my clit. My whole body trembled, and I closed my eyes again.
Fuck it. It was time to see how this fantasy played out.
