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“Chloe,” I tell him softly. “My name is Chloe.”
“I know.”
“Why won’t you call me by my name?”
“Because it’s intimate.”
I approach him, stand before him, take a button on his uniform and twist it. “There’s nothing wrong with being intimate.”
He catches my wrist and twists my arm, forcing it to fold at the small of my back.
I look up into his teal eyes. He appears cold and calm, but between his legs, he’s hard.
“You want me,” I tell him.
His jaw works.
“You can have me,” I push on, feeling the heat crawl up my cheeks.
“You don’t know what I want and how I want to have you.”
“You can have me any way you want me.”
His nostrils flare, and his head dips as if to kiss me. Instead, he says, “I want to have you over my knee.”
Pulling back, he watches me, and I frown, trying to understand what he’s saying. When it hits me, I blush profusely.
He runs a gloved finger down my cheek. “Red cheeks.”
His mating scent floods the room and makes me dizzy, and with his hand still holding my wrists at the small of my back, he moves me toward the chair, where he sits down and extends one leg, leaving the other bent.
“Take off your clothes. You may leave your nightgown and socks on.”
I stare.
He arches an eyebrow. “Well?”
I do as he says.
He removes his glove, flexes his fingers, then taps his thigh. “Your belly over here, head down, bottom up.”
I bite my lip before folding over his thick thigh.
The feel of the leather from his gloved hand makes me shiver as the commander runs a hand over my spine and rubs my shoulders and the middle of my back, moving leisurely toward the small of my back and then to my bottom.
Slowly, without touching my skin, he lifts my nightgown and puts it inside my fist resting above my bottom. Then he runs a claw from my ankle, up my leg, along the backs of my thighs, and finally, my bottom. There and without preamble, he spanks me.
It’s gentle, swift at first, but becomes harder and more passionate as he continues. I count the slaps.
It’s eleven before he stops and touches my heated bottom. This is the first time he touched me without gloves. His hands aren’t smooth, the calluses making them rough, and I find that unbelievably sexy. So sexy that I whimper as the liquid heat of my arousal slips out and starts trailing down my thigh.
He can smell it.
“That a girl. Give me more.”
As if my body is his to command, it pushes out more liquid. My insides are quivering, anticipating an orgasm. His fingers swipe the liquid and then I hear his mouth opening and tasting it.
“Fuck,” he says and moans.
