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Whack. He smacks my other cheek.
“I said, count!”
“One.”
Whack.
“Two.”
Whack.
“Fuck… three…”
“Did you keep pushing my buttons tonight?”
Whack.
“Yes! Four.”
Whack.
“And why did you do that, Princess?”
“To annoy you.”
He smooths his palm over my stinging cheeks, but I know he’s not done yet.
Whack.
“Five!”
Whack.
“Six!”
“Why do you always want to annoy me?”
He pauses and I clench my core. I need to come. “Because it turns me on.”
He grunts.
Whack.
“Seven! Oh, Alistair.”
“Oh Alistair, what? And you don’t call me by my first name.” Whack. “You call me Mr. Devereaux or Daddy when we’re like this. Understand?” Whack.
I’ve lost count but it doesn’t matter. I’m so wet it’s ridiculous. As if sensing the shift in me, he moves one hand between my legs and groans when he feels how wet I am.
“Pull your shirt up. Play with your tits. Don’t come until I tell you to.”
Oh, for fucks sake! I need it so bad.
I do as he says, yanking my top up and my bra down. I tug on my nipple as he fingers my pussy, his fingertips brushing my clit that’s so sensitive, one touch will set me alight.
But he told me not to come.
“Don’t tease,” I cry out. “Please.”
