Forbidden

He finished his speech—during which he’d been smacking me briskly and smartly—by delivering a round of very hard, distinct slaps up and down what he sometimes referred to as my ‘playing field.’

Despite the fact that I had gotten quite a few spankings from him over the past few months, I didn’t think it would ever be something I’d get used to. That was partly due to the varied positions, but also because the pain was always such a surprise. Intellectually, I thought I should be able—as an adult—to just brush it off. How badly could it hurt, really? But it was easier to say that from a distance, when I was home alone in bed instead of draped over him with his hand resting possessively on my hot, well-seared ass.

What was worse, as far as I was concerned, was that what he had said had made a lot of sense. I hated to be wrong. And since I was going to give in to him—because I preferred to be able to sit down sometime within the next week or so—I was going to feel guilty about spending his money. About spending any money that was tainted with death and crime.

That was just the way I was made. I grew up with mafia money and never wanted that color of green in my life again. And yet… I never wanted to see Anthony leave my life. He walked in the same darkness as my father had. He was everything I didn’t want… and yet, he was everything I craved at the same time.

But it was certainly nice of him to say those things. I wouldn’t have thought that he would be as forthcoming about his feelings. It was nice to hear a strong, capable man speaking like that about what he’d learned from my father’s death, and I was flattered that he wanted to be with me. But that didn’t negate the fact that our standards of living were woefully different, and I would always feel as if I were behind the eight ball financially with him.

“So I’m not going to hear anything more from you about who’s paying for what, right?” Anthony kept me in place, playing with a stray curl, wrapping and unwrapping it around his index finger.

I was still sniffling, but I managed to say, “Yes, all right.”

To my complete surprise, he didn’t help me off him so that I could straighten my clothes. Instead, he turned me toward him, so that I was pressed against him, cradling me in his arms and bending down to kiss me, and it literally made my toes curl. He always used just the right pressure, and was never ever a sloppy kisser. There was nothing I hated more—or had hated when I’d had a life—than to feel like I needed to reach for a napkin when the kiss was over. Anthony was perfection in every way… although I might have been slightly prejudiced.

I should have been protesting the fact that I was half naked in his arms, but no words came to my head—none at all. My mind and vision were filled with him; every breath brought the spicy, masculine scent of him into my body, bathing me with him from the inside out.

His hand came up to cup my cheek, the same one that had so recently roasted my bare ass. Impulsively, I turned and kissed his flesh, letting the tip of my tongue touch the very center of his palm. I felt him shudder, and my eyes widened. It was new and interesting to realize what kind of effect I had on him. I could feel the usual ever-present railroad spike of him pressing into my hip, and I deliberately shifted against it, peeping up at him from under my lashes to see if he noticed.

Oh, he noticed all right. I could hear his breath hiss slowly through his teeth, as if he were sinking into a tub full of hot water. That big hand reached behind my head, cupping it, bringing me up to him as his mouth slashed across mine, his tongue delving past my lips, dipping into the sweetness of my mouth and claiming it for his own.

I arched against him—my body had a mind of its own, and I wanted more of him, much, much more. That big hand began to gently trail down my neck, over my collarbone to lie over my left breast.

* * *

Anthony

I could feel the hard peak of her nipple pressing against my palm, not unlike her tongue had been minutes ago. I stayed purposely still, waiting patiently, until her eyes made their way, cautiously, to mine. I wanted her to watch my eyes while I touched her breasts for the first time. Her eyes were a stark liquid green, like a newly budded leaf, damp with dew from her spanking and slightly apprehensive, but not quite afraid.