Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
The place I marked when Shepard spanked me. It's so dirty it's wrong. But it feels too good to be wrong.
He does it again. Only harder. Hard enough I gasp.
"Fuck," I breathe. I can ask him to stop. Beg him to stop. Use the safe word. But I don't want that. I want more.
He does it again. That same impact. Enough my cheek bounces against the table.
Again.
My nipples pang.
Again.
My thighs shudder.
Again.
My body screams more.
I'm halfway out of my dress, pressed against the dining room table, taking spankings from a man who has the power to destroy me.
And I love every second of it.
What the hell happened to me? And why don't I care?
"Bad girl," he growls. On anyone else, it would sound ridiculous, like a line out of a bad porno. But on Shep?
Fuck. "Yes." I push the words through my teeth.
He tugs at my thong. Runs his fingers over the soft fabric, tracing the waistband. Then the line over my ass and sex. Finally, his fingers skim my clit, over the fabric.
It's smooth. Too smooth. I need his hands on my skin. I need him touching me properly.
But I still haven't begged. Is he still waiting for me to beg? Does something deep inside him need that?
I can't say I understand it. But I can still play. I can still give him what he wants.
"You wore this to tempt me." Again, his hand comes down hard on my ass.
"Shep—"
"Yes?"
"I… Yes. I did."
He spanks me again. "Was this what you wanted, princess?"
"Yes."
"What else?" Smack. His hand hits my flesh.
"You."
"How?"
"Your hands on my chest. My ass. My clit. Your cock. In my hands. My mouth. My sex." Fuck. It's like some dirty version of myself is in control. "I want you to fuck me."
"You think about it?"
"Yes."
"How often?"
"All the time."
"You touch yourself?"
"Yes."
"I'm not giving you enough? You want more?" he asks.
"Yes."
"Yes?"
I try to read his voice. He doesn't want the defiance anymore. He wants obedience. But I haven't had enough yet. I need more. "Yes."
He spanks me hard. The sting of pain tightens the ache inside me. Makes everything feel sharper. Hard enough my entire body screams more. And clearer.
I expect another. A threat. A demand. But he surprises me. He pushes my thong aside. Drives two fingers into my sex.
I gasp. "Shep—"
"Is this what you want?"
I nod into the table.
He drives his fingers into me again.
"More," I breathe.
He does it again and again. A steady rhythm that winds the tension inside me tighter and tighter. "You get what I want, princess."
That already feels so good. His digits inside me. His body inside mine.
"When I decide you want it badly enough." He pushes his fingers into me again and again. He drives his fingers a little deeper. A little harder.
It hurts for a moment, then the hurt fades to pressure. Then pleasure. So much I have to close my eyes. So much I have to bite my lip.
I reach for a response, a dare, something. But the only thing I find is a moan.
Words are fuzzy. Far away. The rest of the world is fuzzy and far away.
I only experience what's here and now.
The slick cherry table. The orange light falling over the apartment. The ruffle of chiffon against my skin.
Shep's hand on my back.
My dress at my thighs.
His firm fingers driving into me, winding me tighter and tighter.
Again and again.
Almost—
"Come for me, princess." He pushes his palm into my back a little harder. Just enough I know I'm his.
Then he brings his thumb to my clit. Up and down in the tiniest, softest movements until—
"Fuck." With the next brush of his fingers, I go over the edge. The tension inside me unwinds, flows through my pelvis, my torso, my limbs.
I dig my nails into the table. Into my thighs.
I groan his name as I come.
I expect him to release me. Order me onto my knees. Shove his cock inside me. But he doesn't. He keeps running his finger over my clit.
Again and again.
My sex whines. It wants more, but it can't take more. The pressure is too intense.
Again.
It's not enough. It's too much.
But it's bliss too.
He digs his nails into my back. When I groan, he growls. "Good girl."
It pushes me over the edge. Everything gets fuzzy. Everything except the bliss washing through my body. Making the world into someplace pure and beautiful.
This time, he works me through my orgasm.
Once I'm finished, he releases me. But only for a moment. For long enough for him to adjust his clothes.
He loops something around my wrist. His tie.
"One palm on top of the other," he commands. When I do it, he cinches a knot. Loose. Then just tight enough I know I'm bound.
My wrists by his tie. My thighs by my dress. My entire body splayed over the table.
I'm completely at his mercy. His, to use however he sees fit.