Jesus.
I reach for the towel and tug the rest of it to the floor. She doesn’t stop me.
“Come here,” I murmur. “You scared me, lass.”
Her eyes snap to mine.
I swallow hard. “You ought to be punished for frightening me like that.”
Her eyes go from confusion to curiosity, then she freezes, and I watch her transformation, her look now lust-filled and curious.
“I did, didn’t I?” she says.
“Yes, and I should punish you,” I repeat. Christ, what I want to introduce her to. What I want to do to her. How I’d love to see her bucking beneath the onslaught of orgasm after orgasm I wring from her beautiful body. Moaning while I bring her to climax on my tongue. Writhing in restraints I keep tied about her body or squealing in pain before I bring her to utter bliss.
She bows her head, and her hair, still dry at the top but damp and curly at the bottom, all the way down her back. I sit on the edge of the large, circular tub, and take her hand.
“Why am I to punish you?” I ask, my voice thickening with lust. “What did you do?”
“I scared you.” I hope she knows that this time, though I want to punish her, I’m so eager to feel her skin beneath my palm, that this punishment will bring her to the edge of climax. And yet, I’ll expect her obedience and submission on every level. Her allowing me to protect her, instruct her, and yes, discipline her, will give me utter satisfaction.
“I don’t know anything about this, Keenan,” she says in a soft voice. “I don’t understand it. I should fear you, but I only want to be near you.”
I guide her over my knee, and run my hand over her beautiful, perfect backside.
“I feel it too, lass,” I admit. “I do, too.”
I position her so her naked body hangs over my lap, her hair like a veil that falls all around her. This moment is sacred, this togetherness hallowed. Somehow, I’ve been given the precious gift of this moment with her. I’ve been with women who fought this side of me. They said I was mental, perverted, and somehow equated my need to control sexual intimacy as part of my fucked-up nature. And hell. Maybe they aren’t wrong.
I lift my hand and slam it against her upturned arse, watching my handprint bloom like pink lilies.
But I don’t strike her again, not yet. I glide my hand along the pink prints until I get to her thighs, and gently part them. Without a word, I trail my hand up to the heated vee at the apex of her thighs. I want her to crave my touch. I want her panting with readiness, so eager for me to bring pleasure to her that she can’t think of anything else.
I lower my voice. “Do you like being punished, lass?”
“No, sir,” she whispers, shaking her head side to side so the silky sheet of her hair brushes my legs. I wrap the strands around my fist and hold her in position, then slam my palm on her arse again.
“Ow!” she squeaks. I respond with another measured spank.
Then another.
And another.
I spank her with leisurely, purposeful strokes, covering the sensual swell of her backside until she throbs in hues of pink.
I part her legs further, but don’t touch where she aches for me.
I want her throbbing. Swollen. Ready to fly.
“I don’t… Keenan…”
“When you’re being punished, you’ll never call me by name,” I say sharply, punctuating my words with another firm smack.
“Yes, sir.”
The perfume of her arousal permeates the intimate setting, intoxicating me.
I can’t help but edge her just a bit more. I smack her upper thighs, just enough to bring the heat of a sting to the surface, before I skate my hand between her legs again, the top of my hand grazing the soft curlicues. My mouth is dry, my cock so hard it’s throbbing and painful. I want her virgin cunt wrapped around my cock so badly I’m shaking.
With a sigh, I gently push her off my legs, then pull her in front of me so she’s between my thighs. Motherfucker. Her full breasts are swollen, her nipples hard and erect. Before I know what I’m doing, I lean forward and grasp one of the firm buds between my lips and suck.
“Ohh,” she sighs, her eyelids fluttering shut. “I… I don’t… you thrill me,” she finishes in a throaty whisper.
My lips tug upward.
You thrill me.
The single most erotic line a woman ever said to me. She speaks from her heart, overcome with desire.
I want her.
I need her.
I crave her.
My hand wraps around her slender waist as I suckle one nipple, then release it before I lave the second one. Her hands travel to my shoulders, bracing herself, and she trembles like shimmering starlight.