“Relax. I only have to spank you until I see the skin turn purple.”
He’s serious about claiming me. My throat tightens in a knot as I anticipate the pain and whatever else might follow after this spanking. What if he gets hard and expects me to fuck him again? Now that my arousal hormones simmer into the background, I can feel the tight pain between my legs from Peter’s invasion with his unusually large dick.
Relax. The word works on me.
“Good girl,” Peter murmurs. “Good fucking girl…”
I’m a grown woman, not a girl. And I’m above getting turned on by situations like this except… There's something about Peter that makes me instantly wet and makes me want to please him. He found out how to unlock the part of my lizard brain that makes me insanely aroused and he won’t stop his relentless pursuit of those desires.
There’s something strangely sexy about the way he’s willing to violate every social convention to get me into his bed and once he has me here, the ravaging continues. He runs his finger along the length of my wet slit and when he removes his hand, Peter ensures my ass is bare and he spanks it.
Hard.
The first slap sears through me almost like a slice and I scream loudly enough to wake the neighbors. Peter chuckles as if it’s funny, but I’m busy catching my breath and trying to select which cruel insult I should throw his way.
“Your ass took that perfectly,” he mutters. I shiver as he touches my stinging flesh, completely consumed by his desire to claim me completely. He says he won’t stop until he bruises my ass, but I never had my ass spanked before to the point of bruising… Not like this. I shudder to think of what anyone in my social circle would think of me having a white man spank my ass like this.
Peter’s skin color has nothing to do with how good this feels, but it adds an extra layer of wrong to how good he makes me feel with his so-called claiming. I can feel his cock growing with arousal again as he shifts his body, but I get too comfortable and don’t anticipate the crazy Italian man’s next hard slap. My next yelp is even louder than the first, because his palm hitting my stinging flesh causes even worse pain to spread.
He’s crazy for this – and I’m crazier for letting him.
“It will take a long time to bruise your dark skin,” he says. “But then you’ll think of me whenever you’re away and remember that I want you… and not because of any fucking drugs…”
Peter lands another slap on my ass and he grunts with the force it takes him to hit my buttcheeks. I can’t believe I’m hopingfor my ass to turn purple faster. Or whatever color it turns when a manclaims me.
“You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever been with, Aricia,” Peter growls and he hits me again as if he’s angry with me for not materializing sooner. “I don’t know how the fuck I’m meant to let you out of my bed.”
Another smack on my ass causes my cheeks to vibrate with searing pain. I would never outwardly describe what I feel as pleasurable, but cum seeps out of my pussy lips and dribbles down my thighs.
Strangely, after two more hard slaps against my ass, a new sensation takes over. I can’t stop the rise of pleasure in my chest. Peter senses it. He runs a finger through the dribbling juices streaming down my thighs and then lands a final wet slap against my ass that makes me cum… hard.
My emotions surge as the unexpected climax takes over me and I can’t even hide it because I had no warning that Peter’s hand on my ass would make me cum. I can’t imagine anything more embarrassing than a grown, respectable black woman like myself allowing a white man to spank my ass like this.What the hell is wrong with me…
Peter loves it, because of course he enjoys claiming me like this. He’s just as much of a brute as any other man. Except… there’s something tender that he displays in the little ways he takes care of me that I wouldn’t notice if I hadn’t been ignored for years.
“Now you will spend all day tomorrow thinking about my hand on your ass,” he says with an excited, low growl. “I like that.”
“You were supposed to let me sleep.”
I’m tired now, but I’m going to have one hell of a sex-hangover tomorrow. I might have to pull one of those “work from home” days and have Rana drop off any files that I mighthave forgotten in the office. I’m sure I could trade a few errands for some juicy gossip, knowing her.
“It’s not my fault you make me weak.”
I don’t thinkthatargument would hold up in court. But for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m just a lawyer. It’s like… I can turn my brain off.
“Tomorrow morning,” he murmurs. “We can compromise and you take the test in the morning. I have one with me.”
Does hewanta baby? Peter doesn’t give me time to indulge that thought. He draws my body against his and it’s clear that this isn’t up for discussion. I’m snuggling with an Italian mobster almost twice my size and he’s the one who clings to me like I’m specially made for his arms.
“Okay,” I whisper.
And I let him hold me until I slip into a deep sleep while cradled by Peter’s enormous biceps. In the morning, Peter is gone. My heart feels shockingly startled by his absence. My hand pads all over his side of the bed in silent denial of his absence. I sit up and look around the hotel room. No signs of him.
I glance over at the night stand for the only items Peter left behind. He leaves the pregnancy test on the night stand and a note. I unfold it, strangely nervous, even if I should be completely comfortable with never seeing Peter like this again. Hekidnapped me.
I don’t know how to explain letting myself go with him, but my ass is sore, leaving me with a painful reminder of the rough passion that exploded between us in the middle of the night. I didn’t realize I had that pent up energy in me, and I’m not even sure I want to take that pregnancy test. I’ll need to take arideshare back to my house and blow up Peter’s phone until he finds a way to get me my car.
My harshness towards him disappears when I catch a glimpse of his weirdly perfectcursivehandwriting. His script immediately strikes me as polished and romantic, not the mobster chicken scratches I expected, honestly.
