“Current boyfriend?” I question quietly.
She hesitates, then nods.
“Wrong answer,” I hiss.
Before she’s had time to understand what I mean, my hand flies down hard again, marring the smooth surface of her ass in a more permanent shade of crimson.
This spanking isn’t harder than the balcony one, but it’s far less playful. I’m angry right now, and I can tell she senses it.
But she doesn’t react the way I expect her to. No tears, no wriggling around, no pleading for mercy. She merely waits submissively. After a while I pause, utterly confused. Everything about my pet is so unexpected.
Then a painful image flits through my mind. That light bruise on her face when I first saw her.
Folding her to me, I growl, “Does your boyfriend hit you?”
She hesitates again, then says, “Yes, sir.”
“Like me?”
The hesitation turns into a tiny, sad sort of smile. “No,” she answers at last. “Nothing like you.”
Goddamnit. Why did I need to remember that image? Why did I need to ask? The pity I’ve been trying to repress since I locked her up surges to the fore. All thoughts of hurting her evaporate from my mind.
If I find the fucker who did that to her, he’s dead.
I want to possess her. Make her forget that asshole. All that will matter to her from now on is me.
I flip her over on her back and crush my body to hers. I kiss her passionately, possessively, my teeth tugging at her lips, my tongue finding hers, deepening our embrace as I sense her tremors of pleasure beneath me.
Then I tear myself away from her lips and find the second set. She’s already drenched, and I’m taken aback by this proof of her arousal. My girl really is full of surprises.
I inhale her scent and admire her quivering pussy, engorged with desire, her clit peeking out from beneath the folds.
One of these days, I’m going to fuck her so well. But not yet. Instead, I continue to enjoy her body.
As one of my hands slides over the stiff peaks of her breasts, the other returns to her glistening folds. She inhales and I know she’s hoping I’ll press my mouth to them again.
But instead, I slip a finger into her pussy.
She’s so aroused that it slides in easily. She shudders when I curl it inward, touching that soft spot that I can tell makes her body explode with sensation.
I bring my mouth to her clit and suck it as my finger fucks her pussy, darting in and out rapidly, curling toward her G-spot.
She starts to squirm under me in need, but one warning pinch on her nipple and she tenses, doing her best to stay still. I continue to finger her, each thrust pressing against the spot that makes her squeal, while my tongue keeps a sucking hold on her clit, leaving it alone every so often to lap up her creamy arousal.
Her body starts to shiver uncontrollably beneath me, her pussy clenching around my finger, and at last she drenches my hand with her orgasm.
I continue to finger her through it until she’s sagging back on the mattress, her breath coming in heavy.
Then I kiss her passionately. “One of these days, I’m going to keep you up all night long and make you come over and over again.”
“Tonight?” she breathes hopefully.
I flip her onto her stomach and give her a loud smack that makes her cry out in surprise. Only this time, there’s no mistaking the way she arches back, wanting more.
“Naughty girl,” I chuckle. “Just for that, I won’t let you come again for a week.”
I kiss her again, this time softly, then pull her into my lap. I cradle her with one arm as the other one strokes her hair and back. My heart twists to see her sigh in contentment, closing her eyes and nestling against me. There’s something almost perverse in the way she feels so safe with me. I’m not a safe person.
