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She shakes as she pushes them slowly down, steps out of them, and discards them on the floor.
“Back in place,” I tell her.
She lays across the desk, her hands splayed. Her dress has fallen back down, hiding her beautiful, punished ass from me. Grabbing the hem of the dress, I pull it up and over her back. Her rosy-red ass reappears, making my cock grow uncomfortably hard, needing release.
Leaning over her back, I pull her hair over her shoulder so I can kiss her neck as I search between her thighs, pushing them further apart. She gasps as my fingers dip inside her pussy. I find her earlobe, nipping it. "This is a punishment fuck," I say. "It's not going to be gentle."
I move the head of my cock against her pussy, playing with her slickness; I hold it there, teasing her entrance. I won't stop until I'm entirely inside her, filling every inch of her pussy. But first, I have to know she wants this.
I need to hear her say that she wants me.
Chapter Fourteen
Fiona
His cock teases the entrance of my pussy. So close, yet so far. “Tell me you want this, Fiona. Tell me you want me inside you.”
I do want him. But I’m scared, overwhelmed. He’s warning this is a punishment, that it will hurt. Where are my candles, rose petals, and whispered sweet nothings? But this is Callum, and as always, things go Callum’s way.
And his way seems so primal, so memorable, as he fills me with a need too deep and demanding to be satisfied by poetry and satin sheets. But so much has built up to this moment: whispered girlhood conversations, my Harlequin Romance novels, my own imagination, and expectations—they all swirl through my mind, creating a cloud of chaos.
His cock is right there. I could say, “yes,” and no longer be a virgin. He holds his cock there, teasing my entrance. A whine comes up in the back of my throat as he demands, “Do ye want me, Fiona?”
“Mmm…” My head is spinning like a top. My thoughts and emotions swirl around my mind in one chaotic blur. I do want him. I need him.
But not like this.
“I want you. ‘Course I do,” I say. Throwing my head over my shoulder, I eye what I can of him. “And you can punish me any way you like, but not like this.”
He pushes inside me, enough to give me a taste of him, but not enough to count. “Are ye sure, my Fiona? Do you want this to end here? You want me to stop?” He pulls away from me, leaving me whimpering with need.
“No, I want you…I need you…I just…” Finally, feeling shameful and naive with inexperience, I manage to get the words out. “I don’t want it rough. Not for my first time.”
He stills, freezing behind me. I wait, feeling silly for my confession, my palms damp against the desk. Finally, I hear him moan as he puts on his pants, the clank of the metal buckle of his belt clasping.
He growls, “I may have”—he clears his throat—“gotten carried away.”
The closest this monster will ever get to issuing an apology…
I expect him to walk away and leave me standing here, half naked in his office, stewing in my disappointment. Instead, his big, strong arms gather around me, pulling me to him, then scooping under my back and my thighs, holding me like a bride about to go over a threshold.
“It’s fine, Fiona,” he says, his voice softer. He leans down to kiss my forehead. “Have it your way.”
I wrap my arms around his neck as he carries me up the stairs. I stare up at him, so happy to be back in his embrace. “I am sorry for worrying you.”
“I know. You’re sweet like that.” He gently lays me down on the guest room bed I’ve overtaken since my arrival. He crawls over me on the bed, staring down at me.
“Doesn’t mean I won’t punish you. First you’ll have it your way,” he repeats, “my naughty little minx.” Lightly, he brushes his lips over my forehead, my cheek, my lips, my earlobe. “But then, you’ll have it mine.”
“Fine.” I moan, deep desire filling me as he nestles his way between my thighs.
He’s hitching my dress up around my waist, never leaving me as he shoves his pants down, kicking them off his feet. He cups the side of my face against his palm, staring into my eyes a moment, murmuring “My sweet Fiona shall always get her way,” before kissing me deeply.
My tongue travels over his, swiping greedily. His cock is against the entrance of my pussy. After experiencing his strength carrying me up the stairs, his seeing things my way and giving me what I want the way I want it, I’m even wetter and more turned on than from his earlier punishment.
He presses against me, breaking the kiss to meet my eyes. “Look at me. I want you looking at me when I’m inside you.”
“That’s what I wanted, too,” I say. “And being bent over your desk”—I give a nervous giggle—“doesn’t quite allow for that.”
