The first slap on her ass cracked through the room like thunder.
She sucked in a breath.
I slapped her again—harder.
She bucked. Screamed. Fought like hell.
I didn’t stop.
Again. Again. Again.
My hand came down with punishing force, her ass turning pink, then red. Her legs kicked wildly. Her voice cracked as she twisted and cursed and begged.
“Stop—stop! You fucking bastard—let me go!”
“No.”
Not until she learned.
Not until she broke.
Not until I got what I needed.
“Keep fighting me, and I’ll keep going,” I growled, my palm landing hard again.
Her breath hitched. She let out a sob.
But no words.
I rubbed her sore ass cheeks, dragging my hand over the heat I’d left behind.
“Good girl,” I praised. “That’s better.”
She took a broken, shaking breath—like she might be getting ready to make another snarky remark.
I raised my hand again—a warning.
But all she let out was a low, needy little whine.
Almost like a whimper.
Almost like a sound of desire.
Something electric and raw pulsed between us, like the thunderstorm still pounding at the windows.
I didn’t move.
I just held her there.
Waiting for her to snap again—or surrender.
My hand slid over the curve of her ass, which was hot and flushed from the punishment I’d given her. I loved the heat ofher in my palm, the beautiful response of her flesh under my dominance. And that was when I felt it.
She was wet.
No—drenched, dripping onto my thigh.
I growled low in my throat, letting my fingers drift down the cleft of her ass until they found her slick slit, warm and soaked. My cock pulsed hard. While she’d been fighting me with her mouth, her fists, her pride, that sweet, dripping little pussy had already surrendered.
