Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“No.” I rib my lips together. Meanwhile, Whit begins to make his own impersonation of a chicken. Or a cock.
I begin to turn, not for any other reason than I think I might want him to make me. “I don’t like being manipulated.”
“Is that why your cheeks are pink?”
“I think I should leave—” I half turn to deliver my edict but the next sound out of my mouth is an inhaled gasp as Whit catches my hand, spinning me into him. His thick thigh presses between mine, and his hand connects with my ass lightning fast. His arm slides around me, and he grabs a handful of my ass, then presses my body tightly to his.
“According to the Metropolitan Police’s Twitter account, you’re not going home anytime soon.” His head dips, his lips a whisper from my ear. “There’s still an unexploded bomb in a nearby garden. Nowhere to run, little fly. Nowhere to hide.
I heard bomb, and my insides bloom, probably because his hands have slipped down the back of his sweatpants, his palm now kneading my bare ass. “Are you ready to earn that cool five thousand?”
“You said one.”
“I’ll pay you ten times that.”
“Not for money,” I whisper. “Think of something more fun.”
“Fun for which of us?”
“You’re really weird.”
“No, gorgeous, I’m hard.” His hand covers mine, sliding it between us to where his sweatpants already leave little to the imagination.
“Commando,” I whisper, rubbing my palm against the head.
“Great minds think alike.”
Before he’s finished speaking, I find myself twirled and bent over the island. The marble is cool under my palms, Whit’s hands hot on the cheeks of my ass, sliding the loose sweatpants down before his hands drag liquid fire up the back of my legs.
“This arse.” He spreads his fingers wide as though to maximize the contact. “This arse was made to be fucked by me.” I guess I must squeak as he adds, “Yes, fucked, Amelia. I’ll worship this arse when you give it to me.”
It feels entirely natural to stretch out beneath him as I elongate my spine like a housecat. “That wasn’t what I meant by fun.” And that sounded way sultrier than I was aiming for. It earns me a dark chuckle and a foot between mine that slides my feet farther apart.
“Have you ever been taken like that, Amelia?” His words sound like they were dragged over gravel.
“That’s not something I’ve ever given,” I retort. My breath halts as I feel him lift the hem of his T-shirt with both hands, folding it delicately to my lower back. I’m impressed how unaffected I sound as he slides his fingertips along the crease of my right butt cheek.
“It’s not something you can rush.” My whole body is jarred as his hand slips between my legs. “Even if you are wet just thinking about it.”
“And you’re hard at the thought of it. Which of us is the bigger deviant?”
“Do we have to be deviants? So judge-y, judge-y, judge-y!”
I swear I feel the whoosh of air before his palm lands on my right cheek. I make a noise that’s not exactly a complaint, the low ungh much nearer to an encouragement.
“All right?” His palm slides over the sharp sting, the path agonizingly deliberate.
I nod, too… something to speak. Puzzled, is what I am. Embarrassed? Turned on? It didn’t hurt, but I am standing in his kitchen, naked from the waist down. Not to mention bent over with my ass in the air. That’s not sexy, is it? I lie—I lie, and I moan as he pushes two fingers slickly inside me.
“Oh! I hear the evidence of my enjoyment, feel it in the slippery twist of his wrist. Hear it in my mewls and sighs as he thrust them inside me this way and that, working me into a wet frenzy. “Whit. Oh God, that feels—”
“Just think, we could’ve been doing this last night if you’d been honest.” His fingers curl and stroke, reaching that point inside me that turns my mind to mush and makes my thighs twitch. “You understand that now, don’t you?” he says darkly, his fingers beckoning me on.
I make a noise in response. I hope it sounds like a yes. God, yes.
“Use your mouth for something other than back talk, Amelia. Tell me you understand that if you want me to fuck you, you just have to ask.”
I make an inarticulate protest as his fingers slide wetly away, my body twisting to turn when he presses his palm low on my back.
“What’s more fun than a spanking?” His words are almost pondering as he touches my ass like it belongs to him.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Is it more fun pretending you won’t be into it.” His hand comes down again. Flesh meets flesh a little more thuddy this time. Less of a sting. I cry out all the same, but the noise is somehow different. “Forcing my hand?” he almost crows. Then thwack! Again. And again.