Torrid (Sordid 2)

Surprise blanketed her face. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

Of course I did, but she was getting ahead of herself. “Only when I tell you to. Pull your dress up.”

She moved immediately, and it gave me a rush as I watched her place her palms on the fabric and start dragging it up.

“Faster,” I barked. Fire raged in my veins, and I cupped her tits through the dress, squeezing them together. Every inch she exposed of her milky white thighs made me burn hotter. She got the skirt of the dress all the way around her hips, revealing unsexy cotton underwear.

“Where’s what I bought you?” I demanded.

Her eyes widened. “I’m not a virgin anymore.”

She had a point. I’d have to do some online shopping tonight and fix that. I’d buy her the sluttiest stuff I could find and make her wear it underneath the classy, expensive clothes I’d bought her. It could be another secret only we shared.

“Tonight, I won’t be holding back,” I said.

Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “Good.”

She hooked her thumbs under the waist of her panties and shoved them off. They glided down her legs and fell around her heels, where she stepped out of them. Oksana looked at me with an anxious expression. Nervous, maybe, but not fearful. Like she believed she could handle whatever I’d throw at her.

I was beginning to believe it, too.

Since she was up against the column, it held the dress around her hips. She closed a warm hand around mine and pressed our fingers between her legs. Her pussy was hot as lava, and wet. I clenched my teeth, sucking back a groan. It turned me on, but why was she being so aggressive?

“I guess I need to show you who’s in charge tonight.” I ripped my hand away, and slapped the inside of her thigh. She cried out from the first strike right as I launched the second and smacked her other thigh.

Her pale skin turned a beautiful shade of pink, bright against her lily-white flesh. I loved how I could see the instant proof of my touch. I wanted to paint more of her red. Lay claim over her skin.

“What—”

It was all she got out as I yanked her away from the column and pushed her into the living room. I threw her against the back of couch, and she made a startled noise, but she didn’t cry out. I was rough, but not too rough. Just enough so we’d both like it.

I shoved her over the couch so her cute, tight ass was in the air, and I spanked her with my open palm. I gave her short, stinging swats. Her head was down, and her hands gripped at the couch cushions, and even though she jolted and flinched, the girl said nothing. She gasped for breath, sure. Sometimes she inhaled so sharply, it sounded like a hiss.

But Oksana never said no.

“You tell me to stop, and I’ll stop,” I said over the sound of my fingers slapping against her bare skin.

Tension filled her shoulders, like she was bracing herself. She took it as a challenge, and I grinned darkly. She wasn’t going to give in that easily. This girl wanted to be unbreakable, and I was thrilled to help her test her limits.

I undid the buttons and stripped off my dress shirt. It was good not to have it in the way. I rested my left hand in the small of her back, pushing her hips against the top of the couch, and then I really let her have it.

Slap. She jumped and I watched the reverberation ripple subtly on her skin.

Slap. Oksana’s heart-shaped ass was blotchy. Some of her was pink, while other spots that I’d hit multiple times were fire engine red. It was gorgeous. I dug my phone out of my pocket and took a picture. She flinched worse from the camera’s flash than any time I’d spanked her.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Slap, slap . . . slap. The last one was so hard, it stung my hand, and her foot came up off the floor. Her black heel was up against her ass, as if trying to protect herself. I shoved it out of my way. “Ask me to stop,” I ordered.

“No.” She was breathless.

“Why not?” I was goading her, but couldn’t turn the asshole side of my personality off. My father had activated that part, and then broken the switch so it couldn’t be disabled. She groaned as I spanked her viciously. “Because you like this?”

What a surprise. She said nothing.

She yelped with my next one, and tried to squirm away from both the pain and my hand holding her down on the couch.

I raised my voice, letting it fill the room. “Either tell me to stop . . . or tell me you like it.”