Zandian Lights (Zandian Brides 4)

Wanting Mykl’s punishment is masochistic at best. I know how it will end—with him rejecting me, again. And yet I can’t stop thinking about his last punishment. The way he took such easy control of my body—took out his frustration on my ass. The way he pleasured me afterward. Let me pleasure him.

I want it again.

Need it.

After our talk last time, I don’t harbor illusions of pushing past his barriers and getting him to accept me. I understand he believes he can’t. But that doesn’t change my craving for his attention.

I hear the door open and close behind me. Mykl’s heavy footsteps sound, then stop. When they resume again, they’re coming swiftly toward me. I suppress my grin.

“Kianna. What in vecking creation are you wearing?” Mykl’s deep growl goes straight to my core.

I turn and give him my best wide-eyed innocence. “What do you mean?”

His gaze travels over my curves, and stalls out on my legs. His throat works and I notice the bulge in his trousers grows. For a long moment, neither of us move, unless you count the way his horns thicken and tilt in my direction. His eyes glow a distinctly Zandian shade of amethyst, like two glittering gems. When they lift—with apparent effort—to my face again, they narrow. “You think this is a game, little human? Provoke your master and giggle later with your friends?”

I hold my breath. I don’t want to answer in any way that will stall my punishment.

“Do you?” he snaps.

I force my lips to move. “No, Master.”

I don’t usually call him that. I’ve made it a habit of acting too familiar, challenging his old-fashioned, stodgy need for formality and respect. Challenging his beliefs about the roles humans play with Zandians. I never wanted to be slave-y and yield to his authority.

Until now.

Or maybe I always wanted to yield, I just craved a little hands-on correction first.

To my satisfaction, he grips my arm and spins me to face my work station. One large hand claps down on my nape and he pushes my torso over the table.

“You wish to tease my cock, Kianna?” His hand crashes down on my ass, hard.

I suppress my giggle at hearing him say cock. I wouldn’t have believed he had it in him to talk dirty. I allow my hips to shift, a subtle waggling of my ass intended to entice him.

It works.

He shifts his hand from my nape to between my shoulder blades and holds me down as he spanks me. It’s hot and hard, each smack burning as the next one arrives. It’s exactly what I crave. Satisfying on some deep level.

It’s connection.

Satisfaction.

Completion.

No, not completion. Not yet. But a girl can hope.

Mykl’s hand catches on the back of my tunic and he stops spanking me to shove it up to my waist. His sharp intake of breath tells me he’s discovered what I’m wearing underneath. My panties are black spider silk with little bows at the backs of my legs and a cut out on the top that displays my ass cleavage. Amber ordered us both a pair back when she took her mates, but I hadn’t worn mine until now.

He mutters a curse in Zandian I haven’t heard before. “Take off your panties.” The words are stiff, as if he’s barely restraining from tearing them off me himself. The thought of my tight-laced boss losing control over me has my pussy clenching with need. I hook my thumbs in the waistband of the panties and make a show of slowly dragging them down my hips and over my boots. I step out of them and he snatches them from my hand as I stand back up.

“Back in position,” he snaps.

With pleasure.

I bend back over the counter, widening my stance slightly.

He presses a hand into my back and starts to spank me fast and

hard. I have to concentrate to stay in position, because the urge to dance away is immediate. He doesn’t stop until my ass is hot and burning and that’s when he spanks between my legs.