Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“Have you ever been spanked, Alana?” he asks, and it’s a question meant to push me, maybe scare me away even, if he were honest. In one breath, he says he wants me to stay. In another, he pushes me away, but I think of the torment I’ve tasted in his kiss and seen in his eyes, and I know he really wants me to stay.
But he needs to know I can see him for who he is, be it the boy next door, or the future king of Wall Street, and everything in between. This is all about his “you can’t handle it” declaration.
“You’d be my first,” I confess. “First kiss, first spanking. It fits, right?” My chin lifts in defiance. “But you’ll have to make me move my hands to make that happen.”
Satisfaction lights his dark eyes and he answers me not with words but with actions, his hand closing around the silk between my legs as he tears it from my body. I yelp with the shock of the action, and it’s almost enough for me to move my hands, his intent I’m sure, but I do not. His fingers press between my legs, stroking the wet heat of my sex, his lips curving. “So wet, baby. I think you like this talk about me spanking you.” His fingers slide inside me, and I pant, my hips lifting with his exploration, when I really want to grab him and push myself closer.
He's merciless in his exploration, stretching me, stroking me, and the only thing that allows me to maintain my control is the promise that he will soon be inside me. But I’m so close to the edge, so ready to come, that I moan with the ache of my body, but I hold onto the bed, afraid he’ll stop, certain he’ll deny me any moment.
He leans in and kisses me, and it all but undoes me. My arms need to be wrapped around his neck, and when his hand covers my breast and teases my nipple, I’m melting right here in this bedroom. My lashes lower, and I wish for something I can clench but there is only wood. My breasts are high, thrust into the air, and I want him to touch my nipples, lick them too, but he denies me what I want.
Instead, he leans in close, his cheek to mine, his fingers pulling out of me, to cup my sex, and he says, “Not yet.”
My entire body screams in rejection, and my fingers curl in my palms, as it’s all I can do not to capture his that rests on my waist. “You’re trying to make me touch you,” I whisper.
“Touch me, and I’ll let you come,” he promises.
“And then you’ll spank me?” I challenge.
“You’ll like it.”
“I can make myself come.”
He laughs low and soft and kisses me. “But we both know it’s better when I do it for you.” He catches me to him, and I touch him, there’s just no way around it, before he turns me to face the post, and I’m forced to catch my hands on the hard surface, which should be him, but it’s the post again.
The idea that he’s about to spank me sends my pulse soaring. Adrenaline takes control and I try to turn around. Damion pins me between the post and his powerful thighs and hips, filling his hands with my breasts, exploring my waist, then my hips, and yes, then, my backside.
“Damion,” I say urgently.
He squeezes my backside and murmurs, “I’d never spank you without permission, Alana. Trust me, baby.” His teeth scrape my shoulder, and he says, “Trust me.” There’s something about the way he repeats those words, and I know they run deeper than sex. They’re about our history, about the love and hate, and push and pull, that is carved into our every moment together.
But his request is easier said than done, when the lifetime behind us still defines us far more than any lifetime before us, and the minute he steps away from me, I try to turn. He flattens his hand on my back. “Trust me.”
It’s not a command, as one might expect in the circumstance, but rather a request, and that’s what undoes me.
And the truth is I do trust him, with everything but my fragile heart. I know he won’t spank me without my permission. I know he won’t hurt me. And when he says he’ll give me a dozen orgasms, he means to make that vow come true. I have nothing to lose, and I whisper, “I do.”
He waits there a moment, his hand still on my lower back, as if he is giving me time to change my mind. I can almost feel him battling within himself over me and this moment, and I don’t know why but his emotions and his arousal collide and crash over me. A moment later, his hand slides over my hip and backside and then falls away from my body, but my skin tingles where he touched me.