Page 86 of Devious Corruption

“We talk. Together.” He spanks me harder and harder, getting his point across.

“But you don’t listen!” I swing my hand back, trying to block his swats. He merely grabs it and holds my wrist to the small of my back.

He pauses.

“You haven’t tried talking, Max.” His voice is surprisingly calm. “You assume too much, and now you’re getting a lesson in what happens when you do.”

The spanking continues, but it’s different now. His words penetrate through the pain, straight into my mind.

He’s not wrong. I do assume the worst.

It’s been my protection for so long. I can prepare myself if I know what’s coming, so it’s easier to resign myself to the worst-case scenario. That way I’m always ready for it.

Tears burn my eyes. I’ve done the same with him. Iconvinced myself I hated him, simply because I assumed he didn’t like me. And all because he’d been a little apprehensive about his sister making new friends.

Because he protects her.

I lay my head on the mattress, letting my body go limp over his lap.

“Max.” When he says my name it’s like a hug. It’s soft and sweet, but there’s a firmness underlining it that reminds me how steady he is.

“I’m sorry.” I twist my neck so I can look over my shoulder at him. “I should have talked to you, not simply demanded.”

He licks his lips, looking down at me with arousal pooling in his eyes.

“You should have,” he agrees.

“Should we talk now?” I swallow before asking.

He runs his hand down the back of my thigh then dips between my legs before dragging his warm fingertips up my leg. To my center, where my arousal, my hunger for him is evident.

“Not yet.” He lets go of my wrist and scoops me up from his lap. I’m surprised when he puts me on the floor, facing the bed.

I was expecting him to throw me on the bed and make me spread my legs for him. Instead he stands behind me, both hands on my shoulders, while he buries his nose into my hair, inhaling deeply.

“I like the smell of my soap on you,” he says in a low growl that sends shivers raining down my spine. “I likewhen my aftershave rubs off on you and everyone else can smell it, too.”

“You like marking me,” I say, rubbing my fingers together at my sides.

I’m not sure what to do here. Should I try to turn around so I can kiss him. Because I really want to kiss him. I want his strong arms around me, his thick fingers fisting in my hair, and his mouth—I want his mouth to claim me.

But I hold steady. Giving over to him. Submitting to him in a way I didn’t think I could and still feel safe. Not being in control of this moment would have sent me spiraling weeks ago. But tonight it’s different.

“I do.” He grabs a fistful of my ass, digging his nails into my flesh harshly enough I rise onto my tip toes. “I love my marks on you.”

I hiss when he lets go, and a fresh burn takes its place.

“Bend over the bed, Maxine.” He gently pushes my back between my shoulder blades. “I’m going to fuck you just like this.”

Pressing my forearms into the mattress, I’m keenly aware of what I must look like to him. My ass, round and red, my stomach can’t look very flattering in this position.

My face heats, and I close my eyes.

“Fuck, baby, you look so pretty like this.” He runs his hands over my hips, my ass. “Your ass is all red from my hand. You bent over, ready to take a fucking.” He growls, and it’s animalistic. It comes from deep inside him, like he can’t control it even if he tried.

And I don’t want him to try. Not now. Not tonight while I’m drunk on arousal.

His pants are kicked away and the thick head of his cock presses against my slick folds. “Keep your ass up.”