Beauty & The Biker

She notices the brush I am gripping and giggles. “Are you going to braid my hair and tell me a bedtime story?”

“Something like that.” I smile again knowing this will be a turning point in our relationship. She will either accept me for the monster I am or fight her growing attraction to me.

The mattress dips slightly as I take my seat on the edge. “Come to me and place your head face down in my lap.”

She licks her lips thinking I am asking for head. Tonight isn’t about that though.

Isabella and her dark tresses are on my lap, as I want, knees bent, ass raised slightly. I’d like her panties to be off for this so I can feel her skin to skin, but if the separation isn’t there I won’t be able to control myself.

My hand rubs over the shapely curve of her bottom. She jerks slightly as my cool hand teases at the edge of her white cotton panties. Her hardened nipples press into the denim of my jeans. I want so badly to throw her down on her back and taste every inch of her skin and cover her body with my own.

I gather her long, dark tresses in my hand and begin to braid her hair, so that it will be out of the way.

“I was kidding,” she murmurs against my thigh.

I mindlessly braid and she continues to talk. I’ve had plenty of practice taking care of the girls who dance for me in the past before I had Rain to do it for me. But taking care of my Isa is something else entirely foreign. She is awakening feelings in me I thought I had buried deep.

I love the way her voice wavers when she says my name.

“That feels so good Tristian. I have always loved having my hair played with,” she confesses.

“Be a good girl for me Isa and I will play with a lot more than your hair.”

Gripping the brush, I wield it as a paddle, it’s why I purchased it for her to begin with.

Without warning I strike her bottom.

Chapter 13

ISABELLA

The first strike is shocking so I don’t initially feel the burn but by the fourth my ass is on fire. I am on the verge of tears and begging Tristian to stop, when he caresses my bare back softly and whispers against my neck, “You did good Isa.”

Why does his approval make me smile? Maybe I am just as dark and twisted as he is. A large part of me loves his dark romance. What does that say about me?

His lips graze my spine in a whisper. The feel of his lips on me is magical. A soft moan escapes my lips as he presses his finger between them. I suck his finger hard unsure of what I am doing, but I think he is enjoying it from the growl that just left his throat.

“Fuck,” he mutters. And I wonder would he make that same noise if it was his cock in my mouth.

I bite down with my teeth applying light pressure and he pulls his finger from my mouth. He is leaning down his mouth inches from mine. “You’re playing with fire Isa,” he growls the words at me fighting to stay in control.

> “Maybe I want to get burned,” I say trying to inch my mouth closer to his, desperate to taste his kiss.

His mouth hovers over my lips. We are so close, the dull burning sensation of my spanked butt goes on the back burner as my desire to be kissed by him is front and center. “If you remember—you told me it’s good to want things.”

He eases from under me and takes a small tube of lotion from the nightstand. “Apply this to your cheeks it will ease the sting.”

The small tube is tossed next to me and he leaves without another word. Picking the lotion up, I twist the cap off and smell it before easing my panties down to apply the honey scented goop.

Twisted in an awkward angle I rub the salve into my tender skin. I feel immediate relief as it soaks in. I want to be angry at Tristian for humiliating me in front of his buddies and for spanking me, but I can’t. I can’t even hate him for keeping me from contacting my father. There is an erotic tension building between us and I need more.

When he touches me, it feels oh so right. My heart leaps up into my throat. I forget all time and that anything else exists. I wish he could really open up to me and lose all control. I can tell he is teetering on the edge and wanting to let go of whatever is holding him back. It cuts like a knife when he walks away from me, leaving me longing for things he won’t give to me.

I know he isn’t the kind of man who will sweep me off my feet, but I want him anyway. I want to taste his darkness and bathe in it, if only to hold him close for a minute.

Will his kisses be soft and sweet or rough and all consuming, this I yearn to know? Although, I am afraid to find out...afraid my heart will get torn out, because I am already so invested and infatuated, and I don’t even know him.

He has been nothing but mean to me and I crave his attention.