The Bratva's Heir (Underworld Kings) - Page 36

“No,” she stammers, “but I haven’t exactly been watching—”

“You can watch all damn day and you won’t hear a peep about Clare Nightingale, or Clare Valencia, or whatever the fuck you want to call yourself. Your father hushed it all up. He’d rather risk me shoving you in a suitcase and burying you in the woods over the negative publicity of his daughter being kidnapped. Not to mention the spotlight it would put on my conviction.”

Clare swallows hard, staring at my furious face.

“You’re lying,” she says.

“When have I ever lied to you?” I snarl. “Name one fucking time.”

Her mouth opens but no sound comes out.

“Do you want to find out what’s really going on?” I demand. “Do you actually want to know the truth?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Then you work with me. You help me. And you don’t fucking interfere with my methods.”

“Alright,” she says, so quietly that I can barely hear her. “I understand.”

“Not yet you don’t,” I say, unbuckling my belt.

“What are you doing?” she squeaks.

“I told you that if you disobey me, there will be consequences.”

“I didn’t—”

“Did I not tell you to stay in the corner and keep your mouth shut? I was never going to kill Niall. But if I decided to, it would be the right fucking decision. And either way, it’s not for you to question me.”

“I’m sorry,” Clare says, her eyes darting from my face to the belt and back again.

“Not yet you’re not,” I reply. “But you soon will be.”

Clare tries to bolt for the door, fingers scrabbling wildly with the handle.

Unfortunately for her, the doors of the SUV can only be unlocked by the driver. She might as well be in the back of a cop car. And just like a cop, I have a taste for punishment.

Seizing her by the throat, I throw her across my lap and rip her jeans down around her knees. Her underwear goes with them, baring that milky white ass that practically begs for a flogging.

“Let go of me, you animal!” she shouts, kicking and squirming and trying to get away. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

That’s the first time I’ve heard her curse.

“Watch your mouth, little bird,” I say, “or I’ll wash your mouth out with something you won’t enjoy. Take your punishment, and I’ll go easy on you. Say, ‘I’m sorry Daddy, please forgive me’.”

“Let me go this fucking instant!” Clare shrieks.

“Wrong answer.”

I swing the belt, bringing it down hard on her ass.

Crack!

Her flesh ripples under the impact, and a bright pink stripe marks her snowy flesh.

Clare howls.

“Oww! What the—”

Crack!

I strike the other cheek, even harder.

“Owww!” Clare cries again, and now there’s a distinct sobbing tone to her voice.

A tone isn’t good enough.

Crack!

This time I hit the backs of her thighs, and her shriek is high enough to shatter glass.

“Stop, please, I’m sorry!” she blubbers.

Crack!

“That wasn’t very convincing. Make me believe you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy!” she cries.

“A little better. But I told you not to curse.”

“You curse all the time!”

Crack!

“Ow! You motherfu—”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Now she really is crying, and not just a little bit.

I drop the belt. Then I unzip my trousers, letting my cock spring free, heavy and swollen.

“Beg for forgiveness,” I tell her.

I don’t force her head down on my cock.

I wait for her to wrap that slim little hand around the shaft and bring the head to her warm, wet mouth.

Still sobbing softly, she takes my cock in her mouth and begins to suck.

“Good girl,” I growl.

I feel the shiver of pleasure run down her spine at my compliment.

I stroke my thick fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp.

Her throat relaxes and her mouth sinks further down my cock, her silky tongue dancing around the head.

Her technique is tentative, unpracticed, but she’s as eager to please as I knew she would be. She goes to work on my cock, licking and sucking, attentively listening for my moans of encouragement that spur her on to even greater enthusiasm.

Just as she hates to be disciplined, she loves to be rewarded. Just like the good little submissive she is.

“Deeper,” I order.

Obediently, she tries to force my cock further into her throat, though it makes her gag.

I reach down and begin to massage her ass, red and throbbing from the whipping.

She whimpers a little as I touch the raw flesh, the whimper turning into a groan of pleasure as I slide my hand further down, cupping her pussy.

She’s wetter than an oil spill, my fingers plunging into her with ease.

She moans around my cock, arching her back, begging for more.

I fuck her with my fingers, pushing them in and out of her in time with the thrusts of my cock into her mouth. The deeper she takes my cock, the harder I finger her.

She’s panting around my cock, riding my fingers, her whole back flushed almost as red as her ass.

Tags: Jane Henry Erotic
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