Page 93 of Dirty Husband

In one swift motion, he bends me over, pinning me to the dinner table.

My forehead bumps the wood. Ow.

I turn my head until my cheek is against the cherry surface. It's strange and uncomfortable and sexy as all hell.

Shep doesn't wait for a response. He pulls my dress over my hips and ass. All the way to my thighs.

The fabric is soft, but it's tight enough it binds me. I can barely move my legs.

I'm at his mercy.

"Shep—" I reach back for him. For something I can hold on to. I'm not sure what I'm asking. Only that I want it more than I've ever wanted anything.

"You know what happens when you dare me, princess?" His voice stays rough and demanding.

I turn my head enough to look up at him. He's standing over me, fully dressed, every hair in place. But those blue eyes are on fire.

It's all there, in his eyes. Somehow, he's out of control and in control at once. This is what he needs.

And, somehow, it's what I need too.

I should probably call a therapist. Ask her what the fuck is wrong with me. But I don't care about anything but this game.

"Should I take your silence as a no?" His voice gets rougher. Firmer. More in control. He's slipping into his role. Into this game we're playing.

I don't quite understand the rules, but I know I like it. I really fucking like it.

"Do you?" He places his palm between my shoulder blades. Not hard or soft. Just enough I feel the pressure. Just enough I know he could stroke me gently or push me into the table.

"No." Again, I drop the sir. "What happens?"

Without warning, his hand comes down on my ass. His palm against my flesh. Hard enough it stings.

My sex clenches. My nipples perk. My nails dig into the table. I'm going to leave a mark. I'm going to want this every time I see it.

The place I marked when Shepard spanked me. It's so dirty it's wrong. But it feels too good to be wrong.

He does it again. Only harder. Hard enough I gasp.

"Fuck," I breathe. I can ask him to stop. Beg him to stop. Use the safe word. But I don't want that. I want more.

He does it again. That same impact. Enough my cheek bounces against the table.

Again.

My nipples pang.

Again.

My thighs shudder.

Again.

My body screamsmore.

I'm halfway out of my dress, pressed against the dining room table, taking spankings from a man who has the power to destroy me.

And I love every second of it.