Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
What did it mean that as he spanked me, I experience more than just pain?
The pain was there absolutely, and it had hurt enough to make me cry, but there had been something else there every time his hand slapped my bottom.
It had reverberated through my body, tightening my core and making my blood heat as my heart raced. My body had responded to his touch with need.
That couldn’t have been normal. That couldn’t have been right.
Something had to be wrong with me. There really was something in me that was wrong, fundamentally less than the lady I was meant to be.
Why didn’t I tell him no?
Why didn’t I try to stop him?
What if someone with a key had entered the room?
Everyone had cameras now. If someone had walked in, there would have been pictures of my bare ass on Page Six.
It didn’t even occur to me what scandal my actions could have caused until I was back home and safe.
Instead, in the moment, all I could think about was the way his hot tongue felt inside me. The way his dark hair was silky and soft between my fingers, the scrape of his scruff against my inner thigh and the shameful way my body responded to him, demanding more friction.
This was not the way I was raised, but I couldn’t even deny it to myself. I liked it, and despite all common sense, I wanted more.
I didn’t know when my hand had moved down my body and between my legs, but I pressed my fingers to my clit, where he had pressed his thumb.
The pressure he applied was so much harder than what I could manage. Instead, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it would have felt like if his tongue had lapped at my clit instead of penetrating me.
Would he have flicked his tongue over the nerves or sucked them into his hot mouth, pulling at me until I shattered for him?
The faster my fingers moved, the more I thought about Reid and the way he’d touched me. How he so easily demanded pleasure for my body. Pleasure I didn’t even know I could feel so intensely.
Then my mind went further, imagining what would have happened if I had let him kiss me. If I hadn’t slapped him. If, instead, I let him turn me around and bend me over that desk. Or maybe he would have lifted me in his strong arms and braced me against the wall while he took my innocence.
Would it have hurt the first time he thrust into me? Probably.
All the girls said it hurt the first time, and I think I liked that idea. I liked the idea that the first time he took me would be like the first time he spanked me.
It would hurt, but only for a moment. Then that pain would turn into pleasure that was somehow darker, forbidden, and that made it all the sweeter.
My fingers moved faster over my clit as I thought about how it would feel. Maybe he would be slow and gentle for the first few thrusts, and then as my body got used to it, then he would let go?
Or maybe he would start as brutally as he finished?
My mind conjured images of him thrusting into me from behind, pulling my hair back and biting my shoulder, pinching my nipples, just adding that edge of pain to sharpen the desire.
I wanted him to take me hard and leave bruises to remind me of the bliss that he would demand from my body.
Darker images flashed through my brain as pressure built in my core, building to another sweet release.
In my head, I saw his hands on my throat, not trying to kill me but to control me. I saw him tying me to a bed and then taking me for hours, twisting me into different positions and claiming me, spanking me, and even pressing his thumb into my behind as he took me.
A sweat broke out over my brow, and I would have sworn I could hear him whispering in my ear. His voice was low and husky as he told me to come for him. I could almost feel his hand slap my ass as he demanded again that I come for him.
My back arched off the chaise, and stars exploded behind my eyes as I came with a silent scream.
And I would have sworn I heard his voice whisper, ‘Good girl’ in my head.
I caught my breath and stood up, seeing my own reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were bright red, my eyes glassy, and my lips still a swollen dark pink.
I looked ruined and alive.
This wasn’t what I was supposed to be. I wasn’t supposed to be a woman who fantasized about her guard brutalizing her, taking her hard and fast. I was not supposed to be the kind of girl who derived pleasure from pain.