Smack!
I struggle this time. Trying to squirm my way off him.
“Not so fun anymore, is it, Lyssa?”
“Stop it!” I say.
“What? I’m not playing by your rules? Honey, I don’t know where you got the impression that I’m anything other than a man who breaks the rules, but that was a mistake.”
And then his fingers slip between my legs and begin caressing my pussy.
I moan a little. My ass is still hot and stinging from his spankings.
His other hand comes down hard on the other cheek. The one he hasn’t been hitting, so it’s a fresh burst of pain.
“Stop it!” I yell.
He grabs my hair, pulls me off his lap, shoves me down on my knees in front of him, and says, “Make me.”
I’m breathing heavy. My tits heaving up and down with each panting breath. I stare up at him. Those green eyes and that hard jaw.
And then I reach for his belt.
Never taking my eyes off him as I unbuckle it, pop the button, pull the zipper down, and reach inside to find…
“What the fuck is this?” I laugh. Because he’s wearing a fucking cup. Jesus. My stepfather really did tell him what to expect.
“Good thing I had that on earlier,” he says, grinning like a boy.
I just smirk at him. “Well, you gonna take it off? Or what? I can’t give you a blow job while you’re wearing a cup.”
He shakes his head at me. “You’re not gonna blow me. That’s a privilege you didn’t earn yet.”
“Is that so?” I laugh. But hey. Point to Mason for that little comeback. Well done.
“Lyssa,” he says, staring me dead in the eyes. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but whatever it is, that’s not the one I’m gonna win tonight.”
I huff some air. Whatever.
So I just sit back on my butt, even though he’s still got a firm grip on my hair and I have to bend my neck down to do that, and place both my hands on my thighs. “Tell me what to do then.”
“No,” he says. “You’re fucking crazy. And I’m not. I’m not gonna get mixed up with you.”
“Oh?” I laugh, tossing my head back so far, he either has to pull my hair really hard or let go. He lets go. “I’m crazy? I’m the crazy one here? Why don’t you retrace your steps yesterday, Mr. Psycho. Play back all the decisions you made and how you ended up here, in my bedroom, with me naked and on my knees in front of your unzipped pants, and then… then we can talk about who’s crazy.”
He stands up and starts to walk away.
“Wait,” I say, grabbing on to his leg. He stops, but doesn’t turn to look at me. “Just… touch me then. The way you just were.”
He looks over his shoulder at me and says, in a very deep, low growly voice, “How was I just touching you?”
Oh, I get it. He wants me to dirty-talk him. Or maybe talk him into this?
I do admit, he’s got some real self-control in his arsenal. Not many men would be able to resist my invitation. Curiosity bubbles up inside me like the fizzy inside a bottle of champagne. And then, like the cork that has to pop, it explodes into action.
“Bend me over your knee again and stick your fingers in my pussy,” I whisper, my eyes locked with his. They are very beautiful eyes. Green, but the outer edge of his irises are dark. Almost black. And the green isn’t all the same color, either. It’s lighter right up against the dark ring, leaning a little towards yellow. Which makes him look a little surreal. I wait a beat and then whisper, “Please.”
He shakes his head. “No. You’re drawing me into some bratty-little-rich-girl plot. Some seriously fucked-up plot and I’m not gonna fall for it.”
“You’re going to be gone in a few hours,” I say. “What do you care? You know you want to or you wouldn’t have done it.” I spin around on the rug and open my legs for him.
“You really are a little fucking slut.”
I slip my fingers between my legs and begin to rub myself. Caressing my pussy the way he was just a minute ago. Then I close my eyes and hope for the best.
He hesitates. I start counting. And when I get to three, he’s sitting on the bed again.
“Lie over my knee,” he says.
I swallow hard and force myself not to smile as I stand up and place myself over his legs.
CHAPTER SEVEN – MASON
I hold my breath as she places her perfect, plump ass over my knee. Her elbows are propped up on the mattress, her head bowed into her hands like she’s praying. Her feet are still on the floor, so she’s kind of half in and half out of my lap, but I’m not going to get picky here.