Page 35 of Birthright (Sinners of New Orleans #4)

THIRTY-FOUR

Olivia

" I told you to stay inside." Sam's voice is as dark as his eyes when he spins around to hover over me.

The aggression startles me, and I take a step back, putting space between us.

But as always, Sam doesn't allow the distance, stepping forward until we're in a sick dance.

I step, he steps and, suddenly, my back is against the bar.

Sam's hand darts out, swiping the bar stool next to me away, creating more room for him to cage me against the freshly polished wood with his large frame.

Suddenly, I'm thankful he cleared out all my customers.

I'm not sure what's going on with him and the men outside, but we don't need any more witnesses.

I gasp, sucking in oxygen as something akin to fear rattles inside me. Other than when I was first taken by his men, I've never been truly afraid of Sam. But then again, he's never looked angry with me before.

"I was inside," I say weakly. Technically, that's true. I was standing in the doorway, still inside the bar. But I don't think Sam cares about technicalities.

A hand tangles in my hair, pulling it back so my face is forced to look up, meeting his eyes.

He leans closer until we're breathing each other’s air, his lips a mere inch from mine.

I'm still amped up from having his tongue against my clit not that long ago, and something desperate inside me wants him to close that distance and kiss me.

The fear and lust heat my core in equal measures, tingles spreading throughout my body.

"I'm trying to protect you, Olivia." My name on his lips sends a bolt of lightning down my spine.

Stop, I shouldn't like this.

"I can't do that if you don't listen to me." He continues, taking a deep breath. "What am I supposed to do with you, hmm?"

Let me go. That's what I should say. But the words don't leave my mouth, they stay lodged in my throat, unwilling to part my lips. What I do say is much, much worse.

"Punish me."

Heat flares in Sam's eyes.

"Careful," he warns, his voice like gravel. "You don't know what you're asking for. If you keep pushing me, I'm going to pull down those jeans and spank you right here." His stare burns into me, dark eyes wide as his fingers clench harder against my jaw.

I could stop this. Apologize and try to calm him down. Maybe he'll take me back to his house, and I can hide out in the plush bedroom he's given to me.

But something inside me snaps. Maybe it's the fear of whatever just happened outside my bar. Maybe it's the way he stood up to those men to protect me. Or maybe it’s the way he thinks he owns me, something that shouldn't make me this hot and bothered.

For once, I don't want to overthink it. I just want to feel.

"Do it," I goad him, and Sam rises to the challenge, spinning me around and pressing my chest onto the bar top.

"Leave," he demands, startling me. But he's not talking to me. Roman's still in the bar. Wordlessly, he exits, the bell ringing on his way out.

"Are they going to stand out there?" I nod toward the street, where I can see the silhouette of Roman and two other men standing outside my bar.

"They can't see you." Sam turns my head so I'm not looking at his men. "Your windows are tinted, remember? Don't look at them while I'm touching you, though. That's bound to make me angrier than I already am."

I suck in a breath as Sam grips my wrists together, holding them at the center of my back. He moves on from talking about his men quickly, instead using his free hand to snake around my waist and pop the button on my jeans before sliding down the zipper.

It seems like the loudest zipper in the world as it lowers. And then another barrier between us disappears as he tugs on the denim of my jeans. The material pools at my ankles and heat gathers in my core at the anticipation of his touch.

Sam inhales sharply at the sight of me bent over and bare. Heat flushes my cheeks, embarrassment flooding me when I remember that he shredded my panties earlier and the only layer between us was the denim he just discarded.

Before Sam, the last time I was touched in an intimate way, it was with Rhett, but he didn't elicit any of the feelings that Sam does.

Sex with him felt like a chore, something I needed to do in order to avoid a fight that ended with me feeling guilty for not meeting his needs.

If I made sure to offer my body enough, then he wouldn't get angry with me.

But it never actually worked. No amount of offering myself on a pedestal would ever suffice. Make him love me. Make him loyal to me.

"Where's your head, baby girl?" Sam asks, his voice jolting me back into the present as his hands run over the bare skin of my thighs.

I don't answer. I can't admit to him that my mind was drifting to my shitty ex.

"Don't worry, I'll make you focus. By the time I'm finished with you, I'll be the only one you're thinking about."

"Promises, promises," I mutter.

Sam's grip on my hip tightens, and his body leans in, pressing mine to the bar until his breath skates over my ear. "Always with the sass, baby girl. I'm gonna spank that out of you now."

My breath hitches. This is what I asked for, but still, knowing that he's about to deliver has my skin tingling with desire.

Any fear I was feeling is gone now, and all that's left is an excited fluttering in my stomach and a desperate ache deep in my core.

One that only Sam can fill.

For a moment, all my self-doubt creeps in, coating my skin in shame. But Sam undoes it with a stroke of his hand over my skin while he groans, audibly affected by me. The reaction bolsters my confidence.

That is, until his fingers lift and come back down with a loud smack.

The sensation scatters through me, going straight to my clit.

This turns me on.

I mean, I thought it would, based on the scenes in the dirty books I've read, but I've never actually tried it.

Rhett had no interest in trying anything in the bedroom.

He wanted me to suck his dick or lay back and moan like a porn star while he thrusted inside me until he came.

My pleasure wasn't of much interest to him.

But I get the feeling that Sam's very interested in my pleasure.

His palm smacks down against my ass, and I yelp this time as the sting radiates through my cheek. "You're stunning when you take a punishment for me," he murmurs, the words stoking the fire that's raging inside me.

Logic has been thrown out the window, my brain completely ignoring the fact that I'm being spanked by the man who kidnapped me.

All I can think about is how much I like it.

And how much better it would be if his hand trailed lower…

Sam's touch lifts again before spanking the other cheek.

He goes back and forth between the two, the sound of his hits ringing out in the empty bar.

He doesn't stop until I'm panting, tears welling at the corners of my eyes.

And then he soothes the ache he's created by caressing his hand over the warmed flesh.

Slowly, his fingers drift lower until they find my core, and he keeps one hand on my lower back, holding me in place while his other hand begins to explore. I become a puppet for him, my mind empty of all other thoughts as his fingers dance over my touch-starved skin.

"Please." The word slips from my lips, a plea for more of anything and everything he's willing to give. I don't care what it will cost me; that's a problem for the morning. Right now, I just need his touch.

"I love hearing you beg." Sam's voice is deep and rumbling. "But what are you begging for, sweet girl?"

"You. Everything. Just touch me."

Sam chuckles. "Where do you want me to touch you, Olivia? Be specific."

Need swirls in my gut, mixing with embarrassment. Having to say it out loud feels wrong and dirty, but I'm too deep. I need a release.

"My clit," I pant. "Make me come."

"Anything you want." Sam's fingers move to where I need him, swirling over the bundle of nerves in slow circles.

My spin tightens as pleasure coils inside me. "More." I arch into his touch, craving the ecstasy right on the horizon.

"You want more?" Sam taunts, and it only serves to make me wetter and needier. "Spanking really turns you into a needy little slut, doesn't it?"

The question should be insulting, but it doesn't make me angry. It makes me want to shout Yes! I'm a needy little slut for you! Something must be broken in my brain, but I can't focus on that right now, because I am a needy little slut for him and I need him to make me come.

"Answer me," Sam demands.

"Yes," I breathe out, and he rewards me with a finger pressing into my entrance. He pumps in and out before adding a second. The combination of his fingers thrusting inside me and his thumb on my clit rockets the pleasure that's building inside me.

"I'm so close." I'm gripping onto the edge of the bar, my breathing coming out in pants as Sam as my orgasm gets closer.

And then Sam curls the two fingers inside me, hitting a spot only he’s been able to reach. Pleasure ricochets through my body as I cry out, coating me in warmth. It's the biggest release I've ever felt, and he continues his ministrations, dragging out the feeling as my screams echo through the bar.

When he finally finishes, I collapse on the wood surface, my body melted into a puddle.

Sam drags my pants up my legs before scooping me into his arms. He carries me out of the bar as I nuzzle into his chest, lost in the sensations.

And then he holds me in the back seat of the car as his driver takes us home.

And for a moment, I let myself believe that this is how it's supposed to be.