Smack.
“I’m a good girl,” she mumbled. The words
came out even though she tried to keep them in. This conversation was ridiculous. She needed to get up and tell him he was too kinky for her and this had all been an error in judgment, but somehow she couldn’t find the will to move.
“If you’re a good girl, prove it.” Smack.
Ow! That spot was getting really sore. “Prove it how?”
“Spread your legs.” How could she resist doing it when he was using that gruff, sexy voice of his?
“Wouldn’t that prove I’m a bad girl?” She gasped when his next slap landed on the back of her thigh.
“Interesting question. Spread your legs.”
Hesitantly, she did as he asked, then waited eagerly for him to touch her. He didn’t, and it felt like torture.
“You have a hot ass.” He cupped one of her ass cheeks and squeezed, and she could feel how it exposed her pussy and asshole to him—could almost feel him staring at everything she owned—but he still didn’t touch her there even though she was starting to desperately need him to.
“I do?” She squeaked as he landed a particularly hard slap at the spot where her ass met her thigh, then squirmed as the stinging heat spread through her belly to her pussy. Damn, if she wasn’t dripping down the side of his leg she’d be surprised.
“Mm-hmm. And you sound like you want me to fuck you again.”
“You’re delusional,” she accused.
Finally, his fingers slipped between her thighs, discovering her not-so-disguisable secret.
“That’s from before! It’s mostly lube from the condom, I swear.” She moaned as he pressed one finger into her, then a second, and started to manipulate her clit.
He continued teasing her until she was mewling and clawing at the blanket under his legs in frustration.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Should I stop?”
“No, please,” she whispered, squirming to meet the thrust of his fingers. “Don’t stop.” This was humiliating, with him seeming so controlled. She could feel his gaze on her, measuring her reactions, learning all too quickly what angle and movements made her cry out in pleasure. An orgasm was already looming.
“Somehow, that’s what I thought you’d say.”
Chapter 8
Bloody hell. Why did the woman have to be so perfect?
Having parked her in front of the fire with a cup of coffee bright and early, he packed up the tent and sleeping bags, then stowed them in the back of her SUV. They’d bathed in the river not long after first light, after only a few hours of sleep. The buzz still hadn’t worn off from hog-tying her after their second dip in the river and going down on her until she begged to come again, like a good girl. He’d cuddled her for ages afterward, eventually opting to pack up camp before he broke his dick. He’d fucked her so much that he was sore, so he could only imagine how much worse it was for her.
Really, as a gentleman, he should kiss her better.
The memory of licking her sweet little pussy while she wriggled helplessly in his bonds, desperate to come or to get away, made his cock start to stiffen again. She was so receptive to dominance and yet so confused by her own reactions. He’d never dominated someone who had no real experience with kink, and watching her realize how much she loved submitting was a heady experience.
Everything about her drove him crazy. It was too bad they’d only have a few days together.
Once everything was packed up, he swept up the sleepy girl and deposited her in the passenger seat of the SUV, and couldn’t help pressing his forehead to hers. She averted her eyes and blushed, and he could feel himself sliding down the slippery slope to that possessive, protective affection that came with caring for a submissive.
He had no right to those sorts of feelings with her. Not already, and really not ever. There was no place for either of them in each other’s lives. The last thing he needed in his line of work was a famous girlfriend who attracted paparazzi, and the last thing she needed in her line of work was a criminal boyfriend.
And it had only been about thirty-six hours since he’d accidentally kidnapped her. Falling for someone after thirty-six hours was impossible, even though they’d barely slept.
Afterglow wasn’t love, no matter how lovely it felt.
Give your head a shake, idiot.