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“I’m still deciding,” I reply, surprised again, at how easily I tease him, how at ease I am while naked with a stranger who’s about to spank me. “I’ll put the condom on for you and let you know after I’m done.”
“Oh no, sweetheart,” he says, tearing open the package and dropping it on the floor. “I’m willing to admit my weaknesses, and your hand on my cock will be one of them. You touch me like that, and I’ll forget the spanking and fuck you now.” He rolls on the condom into place and in an instant, he’s pulled me to my feet, his hands tangled in my hair in that erotic, rough way he does, and I like it. I like it so much that I am instantly weak in the knees.
“Have you changed your mind?” he asks, his hand cupping my backside, his erection at my hip.
“No,” I say, tangling my fingers in the dark wisp of hair on his chest, and no less gently than he holds my own hair. “I have not changed my mind.”
“Good,” he says. “Then here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to kiss you and when I’m done, I’m going to sit down on the chair. You’re going to sit down next to me on your knees, facing my lap.”
“Can we stop talking now please?” I demand. “Can we just—”
He kisses me, his tongue licking into my mouth, and it’s like something wild is unleashed in me. I want him. I want him now, and I press into him, hold onto him, touch him. I don’t even remember the moment he sits down and drags me with him. Or how my knees settle against his thigh. Because he’s still kissing me, and his hand is on my breast, and mine is on his thigh. But then his lips part mine and his teeth scrape my lip and he says, “You’re going to lay down across my lap, sweetheart.”
“I am?” I ask, and then quickly amend with, “I am.” And with those words I can feel the adrenaline coursing through me, the high, the rush. The fear that is a bit like being on a rollercoaster, a moment before the plunge. I hate rollercoasters, but I don’t hate this.
“And then,” he continues. “I’m going to take my time. I’m going to make sure you’re ready to come, on the edge of orgasm, to the point you almost forget the spanking. And that’s when it’s going to happen.”
He presses his cheek to mine. “Three times. I’ll warn and then it will happen, with no pause in between. Count with me and you’ll know what to expect. Understand, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. He keeps calling me that and I like it too much. “Yes.” I say.
He pulls back and studies me, as if he needs to confirm I’m really in this all the way. He must see what I feel that I am, that I can’t turn away from this, and don’t want to turn away, because he kisses me again. And then he strokes my cheek, with tenderness that defies what he’s about to do. “Now,” he orders softly.
Now.
Now.
Now.
The word radiates through me.
Now. He’s going to spank me now and I wait for panic to overwhelm me, but it doesn’t come. Yes, I’m nervous. Yes, I’m even a little scared but I’m tingling all over, warm, aroused. More aroused than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I lower myself across his lap.
Chapter eight
Lori
He really does own me tonight.
That’s the thought I have as I lie across his lap, his hand coming down on my lower back. He owns me when I didn’t believe it to be possible, but it’s one night. It is the escape he’s promised. The freedom to not have to hold the world up on my shoulders, to not think.
Just this night.
Just this night with him.
The room is silent, and I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears, the pulse of heat, adrenaline and arousal, almost too much to tolerate. Cole’s fingers flex on my back and I expect his next destination to be my backside, but it is not. He caresses a path up my spine, goosebumps lifting in the wake of this gentle touch, and then his palm flattens firmly between my shoulder blades. “Relax,” he orders softly. “I’ll tell you when.”
“Promise?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, his voice as firm as the hand between my shoulders. “I promise. Relax. Lie all the way down.”
Only then do I realize that I’m on my hands and knees, as if I’m about to crawl away at any moment. I inhale and exhale as I ease to my elbows. “Good,” he says softly, his approval oddly arousing, when I don’t seek approval from men. But I never thought I’d seek a spanking either, and this wasn’t a heat of the moment thing. He asked. I said yes.
He shifts his body, reaching for something, I think, and right when I’m going to twist around to figure out what, music begins to play, classical music. I don’t know classical music, which makes me unable to identify the song, but my mind tries to place it as a match to Cole in some way, but I cannot. All I know is that like the man, it’s a match to me right now. The piano notes lift in the air just enough to soften my heartbeat, and I have no idea why, but this helps. I feel myself ease into the cushion, into him, into Cole, whose name I didn’t want to know. His hand moves, and I’m instantly on alert, on edge, but not afraid. I really expect to be afraid, but there is just something about the way this man has handled this, the way he is, that doesn’t stir this type of feeling in me.
He caresses a path down my back again, fingers trailing my spine and then he’s cupping one of my cheeks, stroking the other. My fingers curl into my palms, my nipples aching with inattention. My backside begins to warm, and Cole’s palms caresses and caresses some more before he slides fingers along the seam of my body into the wet heat of my sex.
I suck in air as the sensation of his touch spirals through my body, and when he begins tracing my clit with one hand, one finger, he also begins a slow pat over the top of my sex with the others. It’s nothing anyone has ever done to me before, but it’s good. It’s really good, each pat rocking me with spikes of pleasure. I am wet, I am aroused, I am so on edge, so ready to come, that I’ve forgotten everything but wanting more, needing more. I arch into the touch, and I’m shocked when Cole’s hand flattens on my backside, his finger leaving my clit. When he just stops and does nothing. Seconds tick by and I gasp out, “Cole,” in desperation.
