Page 39 of Slick Trip

“Or what?”

“Don’t push me.”

I leaned closer, relishing seeing him like this. “What if I keep pushing?” I let my lips brush his. “What are you going to do?”

“I warned you, Cooper.”

I was unstoppable. Did I pause to think? No. I wanted whatever scrap of attention he was willing to give me.

So I kept playing, thinking I was winning. I thought wrong.

Suddenly, I was airborne. A second later, I was in his lap, sprawled across hard muscle. He pinned me down with his forearm, and the air left my lungs in a rush.

Oh.

Oh.

This was—this was real. This was happening. The sheer size of him made me feel vulnerable, but I wasn’t scared. I was exhilarated.

“Do you think,” he whispered, his voice a low, terrifying caress. “That you should be punished for being such a brat?”

My brain short-circuited. I should have told him to go to hell. What came out was a quiet, wrecked little, “Yes.”

My hands bunched in his shirt. I looked at him from that awkward angle, trapped by his gaze. It was telling me things his mouth wouldn’t.

“Can you handle what you’ve been begging for?” he asked, and a jolt of arousal made my breath hitch.

Did I know what I was asking for? No. Did I want it anyway? Desperately.

He made me repeat the colors, his voice steady and disciplinary, a rhythm I was already learning to crave. I was trembling. Confused and small and at his mercy.

I realized his lap was exactly where I wanted to be.

Smack.

The first hit wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t gentle either. Heat spread instantly, a blooming, stinging radiance. It wasn’t just pain.

It was . . . inevitable.

Something stirred low in my belly. I bit my lip. I wasn’t going to make a sound. I wasn’t—smack. A strangled noise slipped out of me despite my intentions. My face burned. It felt so good. My body seemed to be waking up under his hand, leaning into the sting.

I hated that I . . . that I liked it so much. And not just liked. Needed.

Smack. Smack.

I thought I’d wanted Jon to lose control, but it turned out . . . I wanted to lose mine even more. I couldn’t stop the way my body reacted. How I was squirming. Burning. The rhythm he kept was steady. Inescapable. Tears I tried to hold back spilled over, but they were good tears, born from pleasure, given in the safety of his palm. Moaning, I rubbed myself against him, feeling him hardening in response, foolishly thinking we were in this together.

I was flying high until I fell. Until I spilled over. In hot, frantic bursts, my body betrayed me. Intense pleasure washed over me, and I came with a broken moan, making a mess in my boxers, shattering to pieces in his lap.

The silence hit harder than anything he’d done with his hand.

“Red,” I sobbed, panicking, and Jon let go of me so fast it felt like revulsion.

I scrambled off his lap, my hands shaking so hard I couldn’t find my footing. The humiliation was a physical, suffocating weight.

I needed to get out. I needed to disappear.

“Cooper—”