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Salty and warm. I wrap my lips around it and suck. This surprises him, and I see a look in the same vein as respect flashes through his eyes. He’s pleased with me, with my sexual obedience. He thinks he has me in the palm of his hand.
And for a moment, with that perfect kiss, he almost did.
I sink my teeth into his flesh.
He gives a clipped groan of pain, withdrawing his thumb. The satisfaction I feel instantly turns to regret. He grabs me aroundthe waist, strong arms locking around me, dragging me over to the bed.
Panic fills me.
The heat of retribution comes off him.
What’s he going to do to me?
“Stop! Let me go!” I push at his hands, trying to free myself. I can’t even move them an inch. He sinks onto the bed, spreading his long thighs. He flips me over his lap. Kicking one leg over mine, he locks me into place. I wriggle against him, trying to get loose, but it’s no use. His arm is like a vice around my waist. My hair falls over my face.
“What are you doing?” I scream.
“Punishing you. Teaching you who rules your world now. Disrespect willnotbe tolerated.” His tone is calm but laced with threat.
His hand slides under the loose waistband of my pajamas, and his palm feels rough against my skin. He grabs my naked ass, kneading and squeezing. He digs his fingertips into the curve of my butt cheek where it meets the top of my thigh.
“Mine,” he says. “Every inch of you will belong to me. I’ll enjoy owning every bit of you.”
“Belong? Own?” I snap back.
His archaic words give me the anger I need to fight. My legs and torso may be imprisoned, but my arms remain free. With my upper body resting on my bed, I ball my hands into fists, reach behind me, and begin punching him and yelling, “I’m not going to marry you! Let me go!”
My hand swipes at his side. His hand leaves my ass, slipping out of my pants. He grabs both my wrists easily in the circle of his thumb and fingers. My shirt has ridden up in my struggles. He pins my hands to my bare lower back.
God, this man is strong.
“Since I have to keep your naughty hands in place, I can’t pull down your pants to spank your ass.”
Heat flashes over my face. I’ve heard him wrong.
I stutter out what he’s just told me. “S-s-spank me?”
“Yes.” I can practically feel his eyes looking me over, and then he says, his words menacing, “I want your clothes off. Now.”
I feel faint. My voice is barely a squeak. “And if I don’t?”
“I take off my belt.”
Ice creeps through my veins, and my limbs freeze. I do not want that to happen.
I think of him standing in the doorway when he first burst into my bedroom—the thick, black leather belt around his waist. I’ve never, ever been spanked. His hand is strong, digging into my wrists. I can’t imagine how much that would hurt. He’s not one to bluff, and I can’t handle a leather belt.
I have to remove my clothes with his dark eyes watching my every movement, and then I have to stand in front of this man, fully naked, my entire body exposed, bared, and trembling. The thought of this is frightening.
The belt is even more terrifying.
He kicks his leg out from around mine. “Are you ready to do as you’re told?” he asks.
With his weight gone from me, I momentarily think of running. I’m clumsy; I’d trip over my two feet, and he’d catch me.
A shiver tears through me, imagining what could be worse than his belt.
Pushing the balls of my feet into the carpet, I clench my teeth. “Fine.”