“Then you get everything.”
His hands were shaking. “But don’t think you won’t pay a price for it. You have been begging me to be punished.”
Arousal clouded her eyes. “I have been.”
“Because you’ve been a brat from the moment I met you. And you know what happens to brats.”
“They get what they deserve. You were going to let me off far too easily.”
Those words ignited something in his veins.
With one hand he undid his belt and pulled it through the loops. Then he moved to her, wrapping his belt around her wrists and putting the end of it through the buckle, pulling tight, binding her, as he had promised her he would do in their contract. And what she had explicitly added back in.
“My bratty stepsister’s finally ready for the punishment she deserves?”
“Yes,” she said.
He grabbed the end of the belt and pulled her toward the bed, where he sat on the edge and laid her across his knee. He looked at the back of the bustier she was wearing, an intricate series of hooks and eyes keeping her body wrapped in all that lace. Nearly all of her gorgeous ass was exposed by her thong, and it made his mouth water. He squeezed her cheek, and then slapped it hard. She squeaked, and jumped.
“If you say stop, I’ll stop.”
“You don’t think I can handle you?”
“I know you can, but I also know that your stubbornness gets you into trouble,” he said, smacking her on her ass again.
“I want trouble.”
And he wanted to do this for her, because she wanted it. And he relished that. That she trusted him like this. That she was happy to have her hands bound, happy to surrender not just her pleasure, but the perfect amount of pain. It made him feel powerful. But at the same time it made him feel like begging.
To have her like this always.
He left her skin gloriously red, and she was whimpering on his lap, trying to ride his thigh to get some satisfaction. He pushed his fingers through her folds and found her slick and wet. “You enjoyed that.”
“So did you,” she said, her hand moving to his cock.
“You are such a brat.”
“And you want me,” she said.
He lifted her from his lap, and pushed her up to the edge of the bed, propped up on her knees, as he tugged her panties down to her mid-thigh. He looked at her, glistening and glorious, and leaned in, thrusting his tongue deep inside of her, tasting her desire.
She came instantly, trembling and shivering, and crying out his name.
His. All his.
Oh God, he might be sending them both to hell right now. But she was his. In a way that no one had ever been. In a way that nothing had ever been.
This was triumph like he had never known. And he would give her whatever she wanted in order to keep it. He stripped himself naked, and he pulled her into a sitting position so he could undo all the hooks and eyes on that bustier, letting it fall away, letting him see those gorgeous curves. Pale and pink, more generous now than they ever had been.
The evidence of her pregnancy aroused him much more than he would’ve ever imagined. The evidence that he had claimed her. That she was his.
He freed her hands. Set her loose.
“Lay down,” she said.
It was his turn to obey. Because he had agreed to it.
He did not take orders from women. Not generally.
