Page 45 of Daddies Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies)

Her sharp intake is one of surprise, and she arches when I smooth my palm over the spot I spanked.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me? Take the punishment you’ve been begging me for?”

I turn enough to catch her biting her lip. And she nods.

“Let go of your lip.” I don’t want her to bite through it.

The moment she releases it, my open palm lands on her other cheek.

This time, her intake of breath is paired with a soft moan.

She submits to the next two swats with equal fervor.

Then, she flinches as I lay down two more, hitting the same spots for maximum effect. Squirms under my grip at the next two and the next two after that.

Not once does she ask me to stop.

Slowly, it must dawn on her that this is not playful. It’s about control, release, and punishment.

Harper takes it. Every swat.

She’s fucking perfect.

When she whimpers and her posture wavers as she lurches forward away from my last strike, I release my hold above her hip, using a gentle touch to soothe her bruised skin.

I tempered my swings, but I’m still strong. And she’s so soft.

She’ll have trouble sitting for the rest of the day to be sure.

My touches turn into kneads and grabs before I retreat.

Sucking in a long breath, I take another step back.

Fuck. I can’t believe I did that. Swatting Harper. In my office. I could have hurt her. Someone could have heard. They probably heard.

Harper zaps at my control though.

I shouldn’t have let her bait me.

Butfuck. I read that entry about being spanked, and I haven’t stopped replaying it. Even if it wasn’t me she was writing about. The control and dominance she fantasized about in the entries about me—submitting to me.

Letting her be my brat.

I should help her to her feet, but I’m afraid to touch her now. Because that display churned heat so deeply buried that I’m not sure how long I can keep it down.

She stands on shaky legs, but when she turns to face me, she’s wrecked. Eyes glowing. Red cheeked.

Harper reaches out for me as she wobbles, and I can’t deny the need to keep her steady.

Her hands grab the front of my shirt at the same time my arm comes around her waist. But even when she stops wobbling, her hands don’t uncurl. Instead, she tips her head back, grip tugging me downward.

Mouth raw and red from her teeth, lips plump and parted.

Fuck…

I pull her closer, hips sliding into place against mine, and there’s no doubt she can feel how aroused I am. How my blood is pumping with desires I should be ignoring.

With all my control wrapped up in the way she’s silently begging me to put her out of her misery.