Page 130 of The Mad King and the False Queen

“Providing you with a lesson in the meaning of the word consequences.” I jerked up her dress, exposing her matching thong. As I wrangled the soft lace over her hips, she squirmed but wasn’t fighting hard enough to be able to get away. “You’ve longed for a firm hand.”

“Never.”

My laugh was deep and husky and I thought about what I wanted to use to provide the most discomfort. Ah. I had the perfect implement in mind. A second spatula, one that was seven inches long and four inches wide. With a grin on my face, I grabbed it by the handle, twirling it several times before bringing it down on her rounded bottom.

“Oh, God. What? What?” She threw her head over her shoulder, still pushing against the wooden surface.

I allowed her to see what I was using as I took the time to roll a single finger down the crack of her ass. “Spatulas. They’re not just for cooking any longer.” I delivered four strikes in a row, adoring both the sound of the metal hitting her skin and the increasing moans erupting from her throat.

Sara rocked back and forth on the table, her breathing more like tiny gasps, trying to fill her lungs to yell and scream. She could squeal as loudly as she wanted and no one would hear her. Certainly, no one would come to her rescue as my neighbors knew better than to bother me.

Ever.

Using my knees, I pressed her legs further apart, the soft lights highlighting her pretty pink pussy. I didn’t need to touch her to know she was wet. The scent of her longing gave her away.

When I brought the spatula down six more times, making certain I’d covered as much real estate as possible from one side to the other, she finally flung herself to the side, almost managing to run away.

But of course I caught her, tossing her back over the edge of the table and wasting no time continuing the harsh round of discipline. I could do this for hours but my cock was pushing hard against the zipper of my shorts. All the control I’d developed over the years was getting ready to be tossed out the window.

A shit-eating grin crossed my face as she moaned and undulated, kicking out her legs as she panted wildly. Everything about her was beautiful, including the way she flailed. I took a few seconds to caress her skin, relishing the heat building up on the ends of my fingers. I breathed in her fragrance, unable to resist rolling the tip of my finger around her clit a few times.

Gasping, she stopped moving altogether, now opening her legs even wider, giving me permission to take and taste what I wanted.

As if she had a choice.

I pinched her tender tissue before resuming, taking the time to crack the thin metal on one thigh then the other. Her body was shaking, her moans like sweet music. I was torn between continuing and taking something else from her.

Four more and I tossed the spatula, immediately turning her over. She was panting, licking her lips as she peered up at me with unfocused eyes. I was overly dramatic as I placed one hand on her right side, the other on her left. Leaning over, I took a deep and exaggerated whiff before issuing several primal growls.

“You will learn being a bad girl isn’t in your best interest.”

“Fuck you.”

I was so surprised by her slight outburst that I erupted into laughter. “Don’t worry, my sweet Sara. That is going to happen.” As I leaned over even more, she tried to turn her head away, but I was having none of it. I gripped her jaw, pulling it front and center. “You will never deny me anything.” As I crushed my mouth over hers, she stiffened but I knew her reaction would be short lived.

However, I teased her with my tongue, running it back and forth across her luscious lips before sucking on her bottom one. As soon as her clenched jaw muscles started to relax, I thrust my tongue inside, drinking from her sweet essence.

She did what she could to act like she couldn’t stand what was happening, which only drew the beast inside closer to the surface. I did enjoy toying with her, playing the very game she’d started but I was becoming consumed with need.

After sucking on her tongue for a little while, I lifted my head, taking my thumb and jamming it into her mouth.

“You will also learn that your mouth is a powerful tool for things other than sassing me.” I was pleasantly surprised she was enjoying sucking on my thick digit, doing so with fervor. I pumped it in a few times, enjoying the foreplay.

My throbbing cock was just a reminder I was a man with needs. As I pulled away, I raked my hands through my hair before yanking off her panties entirely. I was dramatic in tossing them aside, allowing her to comprehend what was about to happen. My hunger exploding, I lifted her legs, bending her knees and pushing them against the table.

“You are a bad man.”

Her words were laced with seduction. “As I said. And I’m not in the habit of lying either.” I took my time brushing my fingertips along the insides of her legs. It was fascinating to see she’d pointed her toes, easing her arms to the sides and gripping the edge of the table.

In making the decision to make her mine, I assumed more risks than I wanted to mention but I didn’t care at this point. I was famished, desperately thirsty, and needed to find some level of satisfaction.

As I rolled my flexed fingers down her stomach, she tossed her head from side to side. I adored watching the way her facial muscles scrunched from pleasure and anticipation. Even her mouth twisting was a powerful draw.

I took my time lowering my head, dragging my tongue around her belly button. She laughed, the sound more melodic than I’d heard from her. I sensed she was embarrassed, not just from the sinful act but because she was enjoying being feasted on outside where it was possible someone could see us.

There was something exciting for a man like me about claiming a woman’s innocence, something I’d never done before. The women I’d been with had been experienced, those capable of handling my needs, which were often sadistic and always demanding.

I pressed my hands down on the insides of her thighs and slipped my tongue down further, still watching her. Still gauging her building desire.