The Fixer (Chicago Bratva 2)

“I want to see my friends again.”

“Of course.”

“And go to the beach. And shopping.”

I slide my finger under her panties to brush over her soft flesh there. “I have a few items to shop for.” I use a musing tone. “Things I need for your punishment. Implements to spank you with.” Her ass tightens on my lap. “Things to put in your virgin ass. Some lube, so you can take my cock nice and deep. Rope to tie you up with.”

I seem to have rendered her speechless. I’m not even sure she’s breathing.

“Now turn around and give me one of those apologies you offered me last night.”

She doesn’t move for a few beats. Then her head turns slowly. She stands and rotates, straddles my lap. “Was it this?” There’s a purr in her voice—but also enough vulnerability to keep me from annoyance with her act. Afterall, I asked her to perform it. She brings her lips to mine in what is a very sweet kiss. Not timid, but not aggressive. Almost… innocent.

I know she’s not that innocent, but I suddenly wonder if she’s held her kisses back from other men, as well.

Many people who hate intimacy engage in sex without kissing. My suitemate, Pavel, for example.

I kiss her back, holding her jaw to deepen it. She squirms on my lap. I grab her ass with my other hand and yank her hips over mine, so her core rubs over my hardening cock. She rocks her pelvis, riding me.

When I ease back, she blinks at me, eyes dilated.

“It’s time for your punishment.”

Her gaze is a mixture of wariness and arousal.

I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it. “I’ll make it brief,” I promise. “And there will be a reward for your surrender.”

My words have the opposite effect intended. Now she really appears unsure. I imagine her pride makes surrender less appealing than pain. I lower my head and bite her breast through her dress. “This comes off.” I’m already tugging the dress over her head as I finish speaking.

She doesn’t fight me. She still straddles my lap, slightly sullen, slightly submissive.

Very sexy.

It sort of hits me for the first time.

This fuck-hot woman is my wife. She is the full package in the looks department—blessed with a brick house body, a movie star face, and gorgeous, thick natural auburn hair. She could make it as an actress. Of course, her marriage to me keeps her from that career.

She’s full of life and vitality—sassy as hell. A total handful.

But most importantly—all mine.

This hot-tease woman is mine.

I nip at her breast through her bra as I unfasten it in the back. She rocks over my cock again in her tiny g-string. I kiss the front of her shoulder and then urge her to stand.

I pivot and plop a couple pillows in the center of the bed. “Panties off. Lie over the pillows.”

Alarm flares in her eyes. “What are you going to do?”

I honestly haven’t decided yet. I’m improvising. I walk around the room, noting my belt, which looks too thin and whippy. There’s one of those plastic rods hanging from the curtains—the kind used to pull them open and closed. I detach it and smack it into my hand. It bites. It would make an impression.

She still hasn’t climbed into position. I suspect she’s ready to punch me in the nose and run if she doesn’t like my answer.

“I’m going to give you three strokes with this rod. And then I’m going to fuck the living daylights out of you.”

Her chest heaves with a breath, making her gorgeous tits shift.

I step in close—seductive, not stern. I brush her hair back and kiss her in the place where shoulder meets neck. “You saved yourself for me,” I murmur, appreciatively.

She takes a half-step back. “Not for you.”

“For me,” I insist. “We both wanted each other then, and we both had to wait.”

She inches closer to me, that same wary lust flickering in her eyes. “I didn’t say I would have sex with you.” She sounds breathless.

I step so close, her nipples contact my chest. My mouth hovers over hers. “I won’t force you.”

Her gaze searches mine.

I allow my lips to tilt upward. “I will punish you, though. The fucking is the reward.” I let my hand lightly cup her ass.

She shivers and brings her hands to my chest like she’s going to push me away, only she doesn’t. “You’re crass.”

“Apologies.”

“You’re not sorry.”

“Are you?” I cock a brow.

She shakes her head slowly.

“Hmm.”

We’re at an impasse. I can’t decide if I should actually follow through with punishment—not without some clearer indication of consent. The other times she wanted to be spanked—she basically asked me for it.

“Surrender, Sasha,” I coax.

She eyes the implement in my hand. “Only three?”

“I’ll be gentle.”

Another shiver runs through her, and she promptly climbs onto the bed.