“You started it,” I shot back, my voice breathy and defiant.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face now. “Oh, you are going to regret that.”
He flipped me over before I could react, pulling me up onto my hands and knees. He grabbed my hips, his grip bruising, and drove into me from behind. The new angle was devastating, hitting a spot inside me that made me see stars on the very first thrust.
And then he started spanking me in earnest.
His hand came down again and again, a relentless, punishing rhythm that matched his thrusts. The sting was intense, a hot, throbbing sensation that spread through my entire body. I buried my face in the silk sheets, my cries muffled by the fabric.
Despite my mind fighting against it, I could feel my orgasm building, a tidal wave of desire threatening to pull me under. He spanked me harder and harder, his hand connecting with one side of my ass and then the other as his cock drove into me again and again.
I cried.
I yelped.
I moaned.
And then, I came.
My back arched and I threw my head back, a strangled cry tearing from my throat as the pleasure washed over me, intense and all-consuming. My vision went white, my body trembling with the force of it. I bit my lip, trying to keep quiet, but it was like holding back a freight train barreling down its tracks.
When I finally came back to myself, he was still moving, his thrusts slower now, controlled.
“That was just the beginning of your fucking, sassy girl. You’ve got a long way to go before I put you to bed, thoroughly used and dripping,”he murmured, leaning over my back so that his voice was a low, raspy growl against my ear.
I was furious.
Furious at him for making me feel this way.
Furious at myself for letting him.
And furious that my body was still humming with an ecstasy so profound it felt like betrayal.
He stayed there for a moment, buried deep inside me, his weight a heavy, grounding presence that was both infuriating and intoxicating. My mind was a mess of ARCHEON protocols and shattered composure, the mission files a distant flicker in a haze of pure euphoria.
He was stroking long and slow and deep, an easy, unhurried rhythm that was somehow more seductive than the frantic pace before. Each thrust was a statement, a reminder that he had taken something from me I hadn’t been entirely willing to give.
“You have a great ass,” he said, his voice low and thick with satisfaction. He ran his hand over the heated skin, a proprietary caress that made my teeth clench. “Especially when it’s been spanked bright red.”
I turned my head, glaring up at him over my shoulder. “Glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Oh, I am,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to my shoulder blade. “But I think you’re enjoying it more.”
The sheerarroganceof this man.
He slapped my ass again, just to prove a point, and chuckled.
“I felt that pussy clench, Kara-with-a-K.”
And damn him, it had. My body had tightened around him, a traitorous, visceral response to the sharp sting. The heat from his hand spread, a constant, radiating hum that seemed to connect directly to the still-smoldering embers of my orgasm and straight to my throbbing clit.
“You’re a bastard,” I gritted out, but the words lacked any real heat. They sounded more like a concession than a curse.
He chuckled again, a dark, dangerous sound that rumbled through his chest and into my bones.
“Maybe,” he said, his pace picking up again, his hips slamming against my reddened ass. “But you’re the one who’s soaking my cock.”
He wasn’t wrong. I was slick and swollen, my body immersed in pleasure that felt alien and unwelcome, a constant steady current that threatened to pull me under again. I hated it. I hated him. I hated my submissive pose, head down and ass up, and the way my hips were tilting back to meet his, the way my fingers were clutching the silk sheets, the way my breath was catching in my throat.
