Part of me wants to get up and tell him off for thinking he can do that to me; the other part takes note of my body’s response and tells me to keep still.
Another smack. My skin burns, and heat rushes to the entire region between my legs. My nipples go hard, and I become aware of the bulge hardening in Marcos’s pants.
I wonder if Devin and Khalil are in their rooms and can hear their friend spanking me. Do they know he’s into kinky play?
I steel myself for a third spank, but it doesn’t come. Instead, his hand rubs and soothes my punished flesh. “I hope you’ve learned a lesson.”
I’m quite sure I have, but with all kinds of confused thoughts swirling in my head, I’m not yet clear on what the lesson is.
How can I be okay with a man punishing me for not doing what he tells me to do — and how can I like it so much?
42
Completely exposed
The next day, I’m curled up on the living room sofa, reading on my phone, when Khalil appears.
“Oh, hi. Sorry, I was so involved in my book that I didn’t hear you come in.” I actually forgot he was even home, working in the office today while the other guys are on site.
He sits down next to me, laying a hand on my thigh. “What’re you reading? Anything good?”
I grin sheepishly. “Yeah, really good.”
He arches a brow. “Romance?”
“Yep.”
He slides his hand toward my hip. “Tell me about it.”
“Mmm … okay.” It’s the story I was reading the night Marcos came into my room, and I’m on my second reading of the book. Today, I’m past my favorite part, but that’s the one I tell him about.
As I start to describe the scene where the woman is tied up and blindfolded, Khalil urges me to spread my legs, and he rubs my pussy through my clothing while I talk.
“That sounds way better than the romance about the man who needed a haircut,” he says, and I smile, remembering how we met. “Tell me more.”
As I go into more detail, his hand slips inside my shorts, where he rubs his fingers over my clit until I come. The orgasm comes quickly and easily, as my mind overlays the smutty fantasy of the book with the current reality of Khalil’s skillful hand.
When I move to return the favor, he stops me. “I really need to get back to work. Save it for tonight,” he says.
It’s another agonizingly slow night at work as I wait impatiently for “tonight” to come. The bar’s actually very busy, filled now with vacationers, but all I can think about is getting home to Khalil, Shane, Devin, and Marcos.
When I finally make it back to them, the house looks dark from the outside, as if no one is home. The porch light is on, as always, but there’s only a small lamp glowing in a corner of the living room.
The kitchen is dimly lit by the light over the range. On the island, there’s a small candle flickering next to a piece of paper and a scrap of fabric.
Becca,
Go to Shane’s bedroom, put this on, and wait for us.
A shiver dances over my skin. The fabric turns out to be a sleep mask with an elastic band. They’re asking me to blindfold myself, which is quite a coincidence, considering I just told Khalil about the scene in the book that gets me hot.
Delaying only to get a quick drink of water, I do as instructed and sit on the edge of Shane’s big bed, mask in place. With my vision gone, other senses are immediately heightened, and the familiar, masculine scent of Shane’s room becomes noticeable. The bed is soft beneath me; everything is quiet.
After at least three minutes, during which my mind races with possibilities and more than a little apprehension, there are sounds of the men approaching. Quiet footfalls, fabric rustling; the air in the room changes.
Something that doesn’t feel like a finger strokes across my cheek and I shiver. Is this inspired by what I told Khalil, or is something else going on? I want to ask, but I’m enjoying the aspect of mystery.
Hands — more than two — begin to work at my clothing. My shirt is pulled over my head, my pants are unzipped and removed, my underwear is quickly gone. I try to figure out who is doing what, but I have no idea. I’m naked now, except for my blindfold, and every part of me feels more alive than it ever has.
Hands shift my body, putting me fully on the bed, on my back. There are other weights pressing into the mattress as the men move around me. Someone pulls my hands above my head and a silky fabric slithers around my wrists before tightening, binding them together.