Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“Then why are your nipples hard?” My thumb circles one through her shirt, making her bite her lip. “Why is your pulse racing?
She stays quiet, her chest heaving.
“That’s what I thought.” My hand slides under her shirt, palm flat against her stomach. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but your body doesn’t lie to me.”
My hand travels higher under her shirt, fingertips brushing the underside of her breast. She makes a small sound—not quite a protest, not quite a moan. Her wrists strain against my grip, but not to escape. To what? Press closer? Pull away? Even she doesn’t seem to know.
Her head falls back against the wall, eyes fluttering closed as my fingers find her nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. The gasp she releases is pure need.
“That’s it,” I encourage, my thigh pressing between her legs. “Stop thinking. Stop calculating. Just feel.”
I release her wrists to tug her shirt up and off in one smooth movement. Her hands immediately come to my shoulders—not pushing away, but gripping like she needs an anchor in a storm. “Beautiful,” I murmur, taking in the sight of her in just her simple black bra. “Even more perfect than I imagined.”
My mouth finds her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as my hands work her bra open. She whimpers when it falls away, leaving her exposed to my hungry gaze.
“Arson,” she whispers, my name a question and a plea.
“Yes?” I drag my fingertips down her sides, feeling her tremble.
“I’m sorry about earlier. About going downstairs.” Her words come between shallow breaths. “About seeing Aries without permission.”
The mention of my brother’s name is like ice water being poured down my back. I step back slightly, though my hands remain on her waist.
“You disobeyed me,” I say coldly. “After I specifically told you to stay upstairs.”
She nods, eyes still dark with arousal but now tinged with apprehension. “Yes.”
“Then you offered yourself up like some virgin sacrifice.” I trace the curve of her breast, watching her nipple tighten in response. “Thinking I wouldn’t notice you were just going through the motions.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Don’t lie.” My hand slides down her stomach to the waistband of her jeans. “Not when I can feel how wet you are right now.”
I pop the button open, lowering the zipper with deliberate slowness. “I think both those things deserve punishment, don’t you?”
Her breath hitches. “Punishment?”
“Yes.” I slip my hand inside her jeans, over her panties, feeling the heat and dampness there. “I promise you’ll enjoy at least part of it.”
She trembles as my fingers press against her core through the thin fabric. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to make you understand the difference,” I tell her, stroking slowly, “between enduring something and begging for it.”
“Take these off.” I tug at her jeans, stepping back to give her space.
Her fingers tremble on the waistband, hesitation warring with desire in her eyes. For a moment, I think she might refuse. But she doesn’t. Instead she slides them down her legs, revealing long, perfect limbs and simple black panties that match her discarded bra.
“Good girl.” I move to sit on the edge of the bed, patting my thigh. “Now come here.”
Understanding dawns in her eyes. “You’re going to...spank me?”
“Among other things.” I gesture impatiently. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”
She approaches slowly, uncertainty in every step.
When she reaches me, I guide her across my lap, positioning her so her upper body rests on the mattress, her ass perfectly presented.
“Five for disobeying me and going downstairs.” My palm rests lightly on the curve of her ass, feeling her tense beneath it. “Five for the martyrdom act at dinner. And we’ll see how many more it takes for you to be honest about what you want.”
“I don’t—”
My hand comes down sharply on her right cheek, cutting off her protest. The sound echoes in the quiet room, followed by her startled gasp.
“One,” I count softly, rubbing the pink mark blooming under her panties. “Still want to tell me what you don’t want?”
Her only response is a shaky exhale.
“I thought so.”
Another sharp smack, this time to her left cheek. “Two.”
She flinches, but doesn’t try to move away. My free hand slides beneath her, fingers finding her hot, damp center.
“Getting wetter with each strike,” I observe, circling her clit through her panties. “Still want to pretend this is just a sacrifice for your stepbrother?”
“Please,” she whispers, though whether she’s asking me to stop or continue isn’t clear.
“Please what?” I deliver the third smack, harder than the previous two.
She buries her face in the bedding, muffling a sound that might be pain or pleasure or both. I take the opportunity to tug her panties down, baring her completely to my gaze.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, stroking the reddened skin.
The fourth and fifth strikes come in quick succession, my palm connecting with bare flesh. She cries out, body jerking, but my arm around her waist keeps her pinned in place.