“You’ve crossed enough lines today,” he said flatly. “I believe some discipline is in order.”
“Raph, I?—”
But she stopped talking when he crossed the room in two strides, his jaw tight as he reached the kitchen door, turned the key in the lock, and sealed them in the warm room.
“I will enjoy every second of this… undisturbed.” He turned back to her and let his eyes roam over her flushed cheeks and parted lips. “You’ve pushed me too far.”
“What are you going to do?” Her voice was small and pleading.
Her plea struck a nerve that spread like wildfire across his body.
“I’m going to discipline you, Camelia. I’m going to teach you a lesson.” Something primal within him surfaced. He gestured to the table and commanded her, “Bend over, little flower.”
Camelia’s breath hitched, and she shivered at his demand. At first, she hesitated, then obeyed, her hands gripping the table’s edge as she bent over it. Her gown stretched taut across her hips and exposed all her curves and dips.
“Raph, what are you doing?” she breathed.
He stepped behind her, his presence a looming shadow as he lifted the hem of her skirt. His fingers brushed the back of her thighs, sending a jolt through her again.
“This is your second lesson, Duchess,” he growled huskily.
Camelia’s heart pounded wildly as she lay bent over the flour-dusted kitchen table, the warm air kissing her exposed skin. They were locked and sealed in a world of heat and tension, the clatter of pots and the scent of bread having long faded beneath the intensity of Raph’s presence.
Her hands gripped the table’s edge, and her body shook with fear of the unknown and a forbidden dark desire as Raph stood behind her, his hands hot against her parted thighs.
What is he going to do, and why does it excite me so?
“Are you ready, little flower?”
“Ready for what?”
Raph rubbed her behind softly, and she struggled not to moan.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, Your Grace… I’m ready.”
Camelia gasped when Raph delivered a soft slap to her exposed bottom. The sting was sharp yet thrilling, sending a delicious jolt through her core.
“Raph!” she whimpered.
“Do you want me to stop, little flower?”
She pondered it for a moment. The slap was a surprise, and her skin stung slightly from it, but she wanted more.
“Don’t stop, Your Grace.” She arched her back further, grabbing onto the edge of the table more tightly.
“Why should I not?”
“Because… because I disobeyed you.”
“You did. You deliberately disobeyed me, Camelia.” Raph’s calm, cool voice enveloped her as he touched the back of her thighs gently. “Do you know what that does to me? Seeing you defy me like this? It makes me want to claim every inch of you until you’re all mine.”
“Raph, please… I need more—” she whispered, but he cut her off with another slap, firmer this time.
The heat of the sting bloomed across her skin. She gasped, and the sensation mingled with shame and thrill.
“This will not happen again,” he warned, his tone dark with a seductive promise. Each word sank into her, and she longed to obey him. “You tested me with your fire and rebellion. Tell me, little flower, do you like feeling my hand on you like this? Are you burning for me?”
