She’s breathless as I pull away, her lips swollen and wet, but I only let myself look for a second before scooping her off the counter and setting her on the floor.
“I thought you were?—”
I don’t let her finish that sentence, my patience fraying like a rope that’s been left out in the elements too long. Her shirt,my shirt,falls farther to one side, and all that silky smooth skin is exposed, the curve of her breast tempting me once again.
I’ll indulge later but right now, Ineed her.
Kat squeaks in surprise as I spin her away from me, my heart hammering in my chest as she tries to brace herself on the counter’s edge.
But I don’t give her a chance.
Grabbing her wrists, I pull them behind her back and manipulate her body until her forearms are stacked on top of each other and secured with the fabric of the shirt that’s three times too big.
She gasps when I bend her forward, her naked breasts pressed against the counter and her ass on full display.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
“Have you ever been spanked, Kitten?” I muse, kicking her leg gently to the side and giving me the most delicious view of her.
“N-no.” She looks at me over her shoulder, her hips wiggling as she presses onto her toes. The anticipation alone has her panting and trying to push back into me as one hand goes to my belt, the other coming down firmly on the curve of her ass.
Her skin takes on an immediate pink hue, the mark chipping away at my carefully constructed walls.
And already, I’m too far gone, flipping open the button and working the zipper down as I soothe the sting, gripping and kneading her flesh until she’s whimpering. Then I bring my palm down on the other side.
She gasps so I do it again, once more on each side, her arms straining against the shirt as she wriggles against the counter.
“Think you’re ready for me, baby?”
“Please.”
It’s a whisper but I want her loud.
Begging.
I’m wound too tight to entertain anything other than hard and fast.
Possessive.
Dragging the head of my dick through her folds, I watch as she tries to move to get me where she wants, her greedy little clit already ready for more. I love that she thinks she can win—that she can force my hand.
Not a chance.
So I tease her, relentlessly, circling and sliding and touching everywhere but where she wants me, my hand continuing to spank her, the pink darkening as she moans my name.
God, I love the sound of it falling from her lips.
She’s really the only one that has called me by my first name with any kind of regularity, that fact bouncing around my head and making me spiral back to the day’s events.
Her screaming my name for a different reason.
The panic of not being able to find her.
The sound of metal crashing and scraping against metal.
The angry markings across her chest from the seat belt.
It’s all too much.
