“What?” I ask, my head spinning, not able to connect with what he’s going on about.
“How many seconds’ head start do you think you got when you ran from me?”
“I have no idea.” I groan, pressing my ass back into his crotch, wanting him to screw me already and stop playing games.
His hand brushes over my ass where he just spanked me. “If I had to guess, it would be ten. And since I was going to give you afive-second head start, but you were greedy and stole the extra five, that means you need to be spanked five times.”
I glance over my shoulder, seeing by his expression that he’s deadly serious.
“A nice guy would let you choose how the said punishment is dished out. You want the belt or my hand?”
“A nice guy?” I huff out a laugh; we both know he’s not that. “What hurts more?”
“The belt,” he answers like it’s no big deal either way. He’s going to take great pleasure in torturing me for his own enjoyment.
“Then your hand. And since we’re doing math, you already gave me one, so that’s only four more.”
His face breaks into an all-out grin. He looks gorgeous and relaxed and happy, and that is the scariest part, because he’s like this knowing he’s about to punish me. “So smart, aren’t you, flower.”
“Stop toying with me and get it over and done with,” I whimper.
He pulls back so he’s kneeling and slides his belt from the loops, pulling it from his jeans. “Am I a nice guy, sweetheart?” he asks, trying to keep his voice light and pleasant.
I let out a heavy sigh. I should have known he was playing with me. My eyes lock with his, and I know I made the wrong choice. “No.”
“Count with me.”
He flicks his belt over my ass cheek, and it burns like a motherfucker.
“One,” I cry, red-hot heat coming over me, sudden pain, but then my pussy clenches as if asking for more.
He rubs the area with his palm and then swats the other cheek. More burning heat spreads over my ass.
Tears spring to my eyes, and my breathing becomes more of a desperate pant. “Two,” I gasp, sucking in breaths.
“Good girl.” His voice is like honey, dripping with desire in a way I can’t understand. He strokes my ass cheek then dips his fingers between my legs, sliding my juices over my clit before he pushes them inside me. “Dripping, just for me.” He leisurely pulls his fingers out of me and lets the belt glide over my pussy before he brings it down over my ass again.
I cry out, lost in a haze of pain and desperate need for him to bring the pleasure I know he’s holding back from me. My pussy clenches and throbs, begging for it. “Three.”
He spreads my ass cheeks, and I feel him sliding my juices over my asshole. “Do you hate me for punishing you, flower?”
“Yes,” I gasp, even though I think I’m more turned on than I have ever been in my life.
“Why are you so turned on then?” He pushes his thumb inside my asshole, and I fall forward onto my forearms, too weak to hold my own weight.
“I’m not,” I cry as he pumps it in and out of me, going all the way to his knuckle. It feels dirty and so fucking good at the same time. I shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t be enjoying any of it, but I am. “I hate you.”
His chuckle vibrates through my body. He’s so damn close to me. “Or is it yourself you hate for wanting this? Wanting me to play with you, punish you, and fuck your tight little asshole just because I can. See, I think you enjoy my kind of pleasure.”
“No,” I moan as he pumps inside me again. It’s getting harder to deny by the second.
“Then why haven’t you used your safe word?” He twists his thumb, stretching me.
I moan incoherent sounds as I stare at the blurry grass in front of me, knowing he’s right. I never will because I want this. I want him to hurt me just a little before he fucks me; it feels euphoric that way.
“You can stop me anytime, flower.”
He says his nickname for me like he’s testing me, tormenting me more like it. But I won’t use it. He removes his thumb, and the last crack of his belt comes over my ass cheek.
