Page 103 of The Donor’s Dilemma

“You’re right, this won’t make us even.”

“Even?”

“For every time you’ve teased me,” he replied, moving to her other breast and starting the slow process over again.

What was he talking about? They flirted but he was just as bad, and this was… this was something else.

“You could make it up to me,” he said.

“Theo, I don’t know…”

“For every time I’ve had to feed while knowing you’re wet for me.”

Oh. That.

“Well… I… Fuck!” Her body arched away from him, burrowing into the couch on instinct as he grazed her nipple with his fangs.

Theo hummed as he licked the tiny scratches then returned to the other breast, flicking his tongue until Verity was losing her mind.

“Do you have any idea,” he mused, “how much concentration it takes to stay calm while all I can smell is how badly your pussy wants filling?”

He nipped again and Verity’s whole body shook. Was it possible to come from this alone?

“Do you?” he asked again, and Verity shook her head.

“How?” she gasped.

“How what?”

“How can I make it up to you?”

He leaned back, surveying her, then climbed off. She felt bare without him. Exposed and wanting. When she reached for the hard bulge of his cock he stepped back, just out of reach.

“Are you going to tell me to stop?” he asked.

“No.”

Verity had no idea what he planned but from the way he removed his cufflinks and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt she had a couple of ideas.

“Wrong answer,” he said, removing and tossing his tie to one side and putting his hands in his pockets. His pale skin was near-glowing, eyes black with lust. His dark hair had become messy and the mischievous grin on his face made him look younger. He had never looked so handsome. “Are you going to tell me to stop?”

“Coin?” she asked. Was he asking for a safe word?

His grin turned pure feral predator, wide and vicious. “That’ll work.”

Grabbing her by the front of her dress, he yanked Verity to her feet, dragged her across the room and pushed her against the desk. His kiss was bruising, months of composure fracturing on her tongue. But too soon he pulled away.

Before she could complain he spun her, forcing her face down on the desk. One hand claimed her wrists again, holding them against her back and pushing her bare breasts to the cold polished wood. His other hand pulled up the skirt of her dress, exposing her.

A finger skirted the lace of her underwear, following the trim towards her core and Verity spread her legs, eager for him to seek out the wetness he had created. If this was to make them even, then she would gladly pay the price.

The loud crack of his hand against her arse was almost as shocking as the harsh sting that buckled her knees. She whimpered as he stroked the sore cheek. Gentle, loving touches inched closer to her sex again until his hand vanished and Verity’s body tensed.

Crack. She cried out that time. Maybe she did with the first slap, but she couldn’t be sure.

For a moment she felt nothing. From the angle he held her down she couldn’t see his face, didn’t know what he was doing.

The third spank was entirely unexpected. A blinding sting spread to her core, making her cry sound more like a moan.