“Of course it does.” Patrick’s eyebrows lifted, and he smiled at the tattoo as if he were trying to unlock the riddle. Minutes passed but he continued studying my skin. He glanced at me and asked, “Is that from something?”
I blinked at him, waiting.
“You really aren’t going to tell me.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“I’ll work on that,” he murmured, shifting to kneel over me.
His eyes swept over my torso, stopping to study the bites and bruises left by his teeth. The conflict in his eyes was evident. For a moment his brows would knit together and his lips would flatten into a grim line, and then he’d remember I asked—let’s get real: I begged—for it, and he’d relax perceptibly. I ran my hands through his hair as an extra layer of reassurance.
“Do you have any others?”
“Maybe.”
Patrick’s head dropped to my sternum, and he released a long, rumbling sound that vibrated through my body and put my ladybits on high alert.
“You…you drive me fucking crazy,” he growled, his hands flexing on my hips. “Completely. Fucking. Crazy. I should spank your ass red for your little stunt last week, or you should get on your knees for letting me think you weren’t showing up tonight.”
Lust swamped my blood and swelled my center, and I was speechless. I had plenty of sex in college and grad school, but never sex like this. Never desperate, frenzied sex that involved spanking or biting or my ankles over anyone’s shoulders. This was exceptionally new to me, but I didn’t want it to stop.
“Can I have both?”
Patrick’s head snapped up, his eyes shining with the same heat that was flooding my thighs with arousal. Clamping his hands on my waist, he flipped me over and pulled my hips up.
“Fuck yes,” he growled, his hand connecting with my bare backside.
I yelped, and his hand rubbed away the light sting. It didn’t hurt. Part of me loved the smarting tingle, and the way it heightened the throbbing, clenching sensations building inside me. I didn’t know what that said about me, and I didn’t want to examine it closely.
The other part of me wanted to be horrified. What kind of woman lets a guy—her boss, no less—throw her face down on a bed with her ass in the air and spank her? And because of something I did last week? Nothing about that sounded right to me, and I inched away from Patrick’s hold.
“Baby, get back here. I amnotdone.”
His hand pressed against the base of my spine while another spank landed low on my backside, nearly connecting with my thighs. It was different—better—and I stopped plotting an escape. Two more landed in the same area, and between wildly unrestrained moans, my thoughts were spilling out of my head so quickly I lost track of the issue I wanted to take with spanking.
I decided to make my case some other day.
Patrick dipped two fingers inside me and stroked slowly while a hand continued caressing my backside. I was shivering with anticipation, hoping Patrick would deliver the next spank with his fingers inside me—better yet, he’d get a condom and really join the fun.
His hands froze in place, and I looked over my shoulder at him. “What was that ‘hm’ about?”
My eyes dropped to his erection where it jutted out from his body, standing proudly at attention. “Mmm,” I sighed. “Just wondering when you were going to stop chatting and fuck me again.”
“You are such a demanding, dirty girl,” he growled, his hand connecting with my skin inches from where his fingers moved inside me. I moaned into the pillow and pushed back against his fingers, craving a little more friction. He retreated, and I cried out at his departure—he left me with a snarling, frustrating need, and while I knew he wasn’t leaving to make a sandwich, I was too worked up to be anything less than outraged.
Patrick folded himself over me, dragging his teeth up my neck, and I quivered when he reached my ear and spoke softly against my skin. “What did you expect would happen, when you decided to come here?”
I rolled my eyes and pressed my hips against him, feeling his erection nestled between my cheeks. My body protested, overcome with a discomfort light stroking would not assuage. “I have theNew York Timescrossword puzzle app on my phone, and you never did get to hear my position on laminate.”
“Let’s get a few things straight. First, you hate laminate. That doesn’t require discussion. Second, when I’m finished with you, a crossword puzzle is about the only thing you’re going to be able to do. And third, don’t doubt that I’ll fuck you senseless and those snappy little comments will fall right out of your head.”
My back arched and I rocked against Patrick’s erection. “You make a lot of lists, Patrick. Do you intentionally speak in bullet points?”
Patrick leaned away from me and I heard the rustle of a condom. I sighed in relief.
“Andy,” Patrick growled.
I loved that sound. I wanted to record it and use it as his ring tone. It would require some explanation in mixed company, but I’d live with that.
