Page 58 of Chicago Sin

“Ow, okay,” I snap because it really does hurt.

He brings his mouth close to my ear—close enough that his warm breath feathers across my jaw when he speaks. “You keep your hands glued to that fridge, Hannah,” he warns. “If you move, I will make you sorry.”

He doesn’t wait for my agreement but releases my wrists to yank my panties down my thighs.

Oh God.

It’s so hot but also borderline humiliating. Especially because they tangle around my thighs and stay there. I wiggle and shake my legs until they fall down.

“Good girl,” Armando says, and everything shifts.

Maybe I had been a little afraid up to that moment. He was a little rougher than he’s been in the past. Spanked a little harder. Now I’m sure of him again.

“I’m not having sex with you,” I say, trying to maintain the one level of control he’s given me.

Sex is the only leverage I have—not that he couldn’t just force me. But I know he won’t.

“Understood, but that’s not gonna stop your punishment.” His voice is deep and gruff.

Well, good. I didn’t particularly want to stop my punishment. Except he picks up spanking me again, and it’s still too hard.

“Ouch!” I jerk and wince as he peppers my ass with five more hard spanks.

“And there is so much I can do to you besides just fucking you.”

He continues to spank me more. My ass getting warmer with each swat of his hand. What hurts also feels so fucking good.

“Are you going to be a good girl and follow my rules? Or do I need to keep spanking you?” His voice is deep, authoritative, and my pussy pulsates with each syllable of his question.

“I’ll be a good girl.” Even though I’m saying the words, they seem to vanish, drowning between my gasps and mewls.

“Do you want Daddy to punish you like a naughty girl or punish you like the bad girl you are?”

Holy. Fucking. Christ. His one question is like a bolt of electricity zipped through me. So fucking intense.

“I want both, Daddy.” I inhale deeply. “Both.”

Then he drops to his knees behind me and pinches my asscheeks with his thumbs. He pulls them apart and licks up my crack.

I let out a warble of pleasure. God, yes. Wherever this man learned to fuck, he learned it right.

He rims my anus with his tongue, then pushes my thighs wider to open me to him. Face buried in my ass, he licks up to my clit and back again. The sting of his spanks morphs into a warm tingle, bringing added heat to the region, as if my core weren’t already molten.

He slaps my ass intermittently as he works my folds with his tongue, then screws one finger into me. His thumb rubs over my anus.

“Good thing we’re not having sex, Flowers. Or I’d bend you over, put my cock in your ass and fuck you hard.”

Oh. My. Gawd.

Armando shifts to dip his thumb in my pussy, then returns to my anus with it coated with my juices and pushes like he’s trying to get in. He puts three—fuck, maybe four—fingers in my pussy at the same time.

I do scream—a loud, “Oh my God!” I lose my balance, my knees buckling. Armando grips my pelvis to hold me up and removes his fingers. “No,” I whimper. Dammit. I was so close to coming.

He grabs me around the waist and pulls back. I shriek as I free-fall into his lap, but he doesn’t miss a beat. He hooks his hand behind my left knee and pulls it up and open, spreading me wide. With his right palm, he starts spanking my pussy.

Quick firm slaps. He slaps everything—my clit, my entrance, my labia. I wriggle in his lap, trying to push him away at the same time I pull him closer. It’s crazy intense. Like lose-my-mind intense in a really good-bad way. Hurty but really freaking satisfying.

I shriek and grab the hand spanking me, cup it around my mons, so I can come. He curls his fingers and dips them in—two, maybe three—and I come, a spasm of release rippling through me.