Dare to Submit (NY Dares 2)

“I said that you lied.”

He had to lean closer to hear her. “Your ass is gorgeous,” he said, emphasizing his words with his first smack.

“Ouch!” She wriggled beneath him.

“Quiet.” He followed the first with two more, one on the other cheek, the third closer to her thigh. The sound and the crack of his hand blended together for him, giving him a rush he hadn’t experienced in a while. “I know you don’t know me, but you will. I don’t lie,” he told her, connecting with her flesh. Four. Her ass pinkened beautifully, his marks glowing on her skin.

She no longer made a sound, but her hands clasped his calves through the denim of his jeans, and a moan echoed up toward him. “Your sweet ass is the first thing I noticed about you.” Five. His hand stung and he came down on her once more. This time she arched into his hand and satisfaction filled him. Six was slightly harder, and he finished up with seven, eight, nine, and ten.

Small whimpers escaped her lips, reaching his ears. This was what he hadn’t seen in her before. The total surrender to her feelings. His gut told him there’d be tears in those eyes, not as much from the pain, because he’d gone easy, but from her giving in. She’d earned the release she needed, and he was all too happy to give it to her, despite the fact that he knew once he slid his fingers into her wet heat, he wouldn’t be walking away any time soon.

* * *

Amanda’s ass tingled and her pussy clenched in desperate need. The minute she’d lain down across Decklan’s lap, her head had begun to empty out. Reaching for his legs to anchor herself had felt natural. Right. She deserved the punishment, knowing she’d questioned his words with no good reason behind it except her own insecurities. Her ass was too big, her boobs were too, and so was her stomach. No matter how much she’d dieted in the past, she always had those curves. It was ingrained in her to believe no man would want her.

He claimed otherwise. She needed to believe him. And when the pain transformed into desire, she did. Why else would she bare her ass in front of a room full of people when she never had before? And why did a part of her actually like it? Because it pleased him. That much she understood.

Her sex throbbed, and the more he ran his palm over his handiwork, the more she wanted. Dampness coated her thighs and she needed to come.

He squeezed her cheeks together, and heat bloomed anew between her thighs, her clit pulsing with desperate need.

“Are you wet, baby?”

“God, yes.”

“Let’s see.” He slid a finger around her pussy, gliding over her wet lips, spreading the cream he’d created. “You’re soaking,” he said, pure male satisfaction in his tone.

The whimper that escaped barely sounded like her own.

He eased a finger inside her body, and she clenched around him, attempting to grip him tight, hold him in place. But she wasn’t running this show. Instead, he pumped that single digit in and out of her channel until she began wriggling against him, seeking deeper contact.

He slapped her again, and she dropped her head on a low moan.

Two fingers thrust deep, and his thumb worked her clit, pressing hard on the tiny nub that controlled her pleasure. In and out, harder and faster until she was writhing uncontrollably against his hand.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, each plunge of his fingers deeper, that gruff voice sexy enough to cause a mini orgasm on its own.

She lost track of time and place; the only thing that mattered was the collision of her body and his hand. She arched her back, pressing harder against him, reaching for a climax that was so close and so big her emotions were at the surface. Tears leaked from her eyelids.

And then she exploded on a scream, her orgasm taking over, pulling her up, up, and over. Pleasure like she’d never felt suffusing every cell of her being, and she rode out the wave, rocking on his hand, lost in sensation. And then his digits curled up inside her, hitting a place that was new to her, and tremors started again, this climax harder than the one before.

Just as the waves began subsiding, he pressed on her clit.

“No,” she moaned, knowing there was no way her body could take another.

“Yes, you can.” He pinched her hard and she came once more.

* * *

It had been ages since Decklan had done aftercare. Yet he sat on a couch in a corner of the club, an out-of-it Amanda wrapped in a blanket, curled in his lap. His cock throbbed with unslaked need, and he welcomed the feeling. It reminded him that there were times when it was worth the sacrifice to hold out. She’d reminded him.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Max chose a seat beside him and eyed the feminine bundle in his arms, a satisfied smile on his face. “You gave in and you liked it.”

“She needed it,” Decklan muttered, not wanting to disturb her until she came around on her own. Damn woman thought she was too curvy? Too big? She’d deserved to have that ass slapped. Next time he wanted to bite. To mark her and gain the satisfaction of seeing his imprint on her skin.

He shifted uncomfortably, knowing he couldn’t allow himself to get that involved wi

th her. To do so meant some kind of relationship, which in turn involved allowing himself to get close and potentially care. Or even love. Which meant to risk loss. And loss was something Decklan didn’t deal well with. He’d lost his parents at nineteen, and he never wanted to feel that kind of pain and out-of-control panic again.