Forbidden

That was good—I didn’t want her to be afraid of me.

Fear was a good thing in my profession. I wanted people to be afraid of me. But not her. Not my Raychel.

She was so tentative around me in general—although that had gotten a lot better lately. I didn’t want her to be backing away from me all the time.

Especially not from this.

I would swear I could feel it at least as sharply as she did—if not more so. I let my fingers contract gently, trapping that tip amongst all of them and squeezing very, very carefully. I watched as her head fell back just a little, then all the way, and a long, guttural breath left her lips.

On impulse, I bent down and covered that enticing peak with my lips, breathing damp, hot air onto her t-shirt, assuring that when I drew back, it would cling to her as lovingly as I intended to be shortly. I let my hands reach down to the hem of her shirt, sliding it up slowly until her holey, dingy bra was revealed.

Raychel was suddenly jerked out of her reverie and made one desperate attempt to drag her shirt out of my hands, but there was no hope for it. I had already seen the decrepit state of her underwear. Clearly to have me see them in their inglorious condition made her cheeks blush brighter than my lips over her nipple had.

I caught her eyes again—looking up from where our hands were at a stalemate in the middle of her tummy where I had allowed her shirt to retreat for the time being. “Move your hands, Raychel.”

She bit her lip in indecision, but her hands remained where they were.

I didn’t want to give her the look; this was too intimate a situation to be heavy-handed and besides, overuse would diminish its power. “Raychel…” I kept my voice very low, almost hypnotic, but firm and strong. “I want you to put your hands at your sides. Do as I say.”

More bitten lip, and more fear in her eyes than I wanted to see.

But I didn’t back down. Instead, I kept my voice at the same level as before and said, “If you don’t put your hands at your sides by the time I count to five, I’m going to put you over my lap again. Do you really want another spanking?”

For emphasis, I reached under her and gently squeezed one of her still warm cheeks.

I paused before saying, “One.”

Another pause.

“Two.”

“Three.”

My eyebrow went up as I watched her closely. I was surprised at how stubborn she was being, but I supposed I shouldn’t have been. I didn’t want to spank her again, but I would. I was a man of my word.

“Four.”

Chapter Twelve

Raychel

I was about to chew my lip off, and he had arrived at four in a startlingly quick time. I could still feel the burning in my backside, which he was so kindly reminding me about, and I did not want another session of his dominance.

I was trying to weigh whether or not he was likely to cut me a break and do the ‘four and a quarter, four and a half, four and three quarters’ thing, or just go right to the spanking.

Seconds after that question—and its inevitable answer—popped into my head, I just went ahead and did it. I let go of the shirt and slowly lowered my arms to my sides, my eyes looking anywhere but into his.

“I know how hard that was for you to do. Thank you,” he whispered, nibbling at my poor worried lip, teasing me, tempting me with his taste, distracting me while his hands finished what they had started, pushing my shirt up until it bunched beneath my chin.

For all my worrying, he didn’t seem to notice anything about my bra, except how to quickly rid me of it. It had a front clasp, so as soon as he had the hooks undone, he used his hand under the fabric to sweep it open, pushing the cups aside to bare my breasts, all the while touching me lightly, helping me become accustomed to his hands on intimate places on my body. When I was naked there, he didn’t grab at me like a teenager. He savored me like a rare, fine wine. I was wonderful shades of cream and pink, plumper than when we first started dating but not overly so. I fit into his palm as if I had been made for him and him alone.

Slowly, with me watching his every move avidly, he bent his head to me, nosing that impudent nipple at first, mouthing it, letting his lips slide over it with no pressure, no sucking, just touching them to me and letting my involuntary moans and caught breath fill the room.

I wanted him.