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He couldn’t mean to…
No.
He wouldn’tspankme, right?
This wasn’t what I’d ever imagined, or even remotely fantasized about. I’d thought about him taking me in hand a whole other way, one that involved his cock and me screaming and coming and trembling with how hard of an orgasm he could give me.
Nothing like this.
I mean, Papa did say he was a powerful man, but I’d always seen Massimo as his best friend, an uncle maybe, but nothing more than that. I had never truly understood what that meant until now, until this very moment.
And I had been toying with him like it was a game.
My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of fear and something else—something more exhilarating. I wasn’t afraid that he would hurt me. Massimo had always been protective, always caring toward me, but now I was seeing a different side of him, a side that made me realize the weight of my actions and quite possibly regret them.
“Wait, please, Massimo, we can talk about this,” I tried.
“I’m done talking,piccola,” he answered, and I stiffened, trying to push up against the bed, but his hold on me meant that I wasn’t going anywhere.
Then I noticed something else.
He washard.
Like really fucking hard.
As in his rock-hard cock was pressed into my belly and all my wiggles and struggles were simply rubbing my body against him and making him harder.
What did this mean?
Did he like this? Did he get off on this?
I swallowed hard, a mix of embarrassment and arousal swirling inside me. He shifted beneath me, his erection unmistakable, and it sent a jolt of desire straight through me.
Wait… What did this mean for me? Why wasIaroused right now?
I shouldn’t have found any of this even remotely sexy, but my clit throbbed, and the more I struggled, the more his hardness rubbed against me, my core squeezed tight with heated desire, and a strange warmth spread over my skin. What the absolute fuck was wrong with me?
This was humiliating.
Massimo was about to spank me like some kind of disobedient child because that’s what this was, right?
But the way his erection kept pressing into me… Maybe that meant something else. What if he just wanted to bare me? Shame me somehow as punishment, maybe? No, that seemed ridiculous.
A man didn’t put a woman over his knee for something like that.
I was about to get spanked.
It didn’t matter that my mind was trying to come up with anything to dispute the fact that I was in trouble and the consequences of my actions were finally catching up with me. The reality of it was simply that I was about to get spanked for the very first time in my life.
Then he reached down and brushed his fingers against the back of my thighs, right beneath my skirt and I stilled, this all becoming very real, very fast.
“Don’t do this, please,” I protested.
“It’s too late for that,” he murmured, and his fingers pushed further under the fabric and began raising it. Each second seemed like an eternity as my skirt lifted, exposing my ass inch by inch until there was nothing but my pair of cheeky white lacy panties covering me.
I felt so exposed. And so impossibly turned on.
What the hell was wrong with me?