Her voice is half-muffled by the sheet, but the petulance in her tone still comes through clearly.
“You know who you sound like?”
She doesn’t reply.
“Tinker Bell. From the classic Disney.”
She goes still, then huffs into the sheet. “She doesn’t speak,idiot.”
I chuckle. No one else would ever talk to me like she does. “I think you just made my point, Tink.”
She tenses as she hears my laugh. “You think this is goddamnfunny?”
Only now does she try to move, and I tighten my grip.
“Getoffme, Alex. You’ve had your fun. I’m going home.”
I switch hands, placing my right on the back of her neck, freeing up my dominant left. I cup her ass again, and she stills. Her butt comes up off the bed. Just an inch, maybe two, but she’s raised it for me. I wonder if she’s even aware she did.
“Do you want more spanks? Is that it?”
“No, you bastard. I’m done with your twisted games.”
Sounds like a provocation to me.
My hand comes down on her ass. Not as hard as the first few blows—that was my anger coming out. But I don’t need to hit her hard. Her ass is delightfully red, warm to the touch, the skin lightly textured where I’ve spanked her.
She gives a muffled cry into the sheet, and her hands clench again. It’s so helplessly pathetic, so endearingly vulnerable. So much fun to see, to hear, to feel.
“I told you we weren’t finished.”
She stills at my words. “No,” she breathes. “Please, no. Don’t. Not like this.”
“Don’t what, Tink?”
Her muscles tense at the endearment. I’m not sure I’ve ever given her one before. It was ‘Victoria’ for so long, ‘Vicky’ later. That’s been about it. Not even ‘baby.’
Why is that, I wonder?
“Don’t fuck me,” she replies. “I don’t want you to. I’m sayingno, Alex.”
“I heard you.” And I really don’t care.
My fingers dip between her legs again. If anything, she’s wetter than she was before. She came so hard.
Another whimper escapes her, but this time she lowers her hips, pressing them into the bed, ass clenching, thighs tight. I don’t like that; it spoils my view.
“Behave,” I say, “or I’ll get my belt.” It’s an idle threat. I wouldn’t go that far—I don’tneedto go that far—but she doesn’t know it.
A little sob, and her lower half slowly relaxes. It must’ve been a conscious effort on her part. But she’s open to me again, and that’s all that matters.
“Are you going to do what you’re told?” I ask, leaning over her again. I want to see her face, but it’s turned away from me and half pressed into the bed. “Are you going to be a good girl?”
“Gosh, I don’t know,” she grinds out, still managing to deliver the words with derision. “Are you going to stop being a bastard?”
But she gave me a shiver before she gave me her snark, her body responding to my words.
I need to see her eyes, to see the responses she can’t hide. I ease up my grip on her neck, but don’t remove my hand. “Roll over, Tink.”
