Page 7 of Trapped (Snowbound with a Stranger #2)

The Dizzying Dance

Erin

What the hell was wrong with me?

I wasn’t a na?ve schoolgirl entangled in her first sexual crescendo. I was a grown woman, and I should have known better—better than to believe the pretty lies tumbling from his mouth—and worse, better than to believe the deceit of my own damn arousal.

Yet, as his fingers stiffened in my hair and his face descended, I knew I was succumbing. Not just to that moment and the latest caress he should never have given me, but to all of the twisted dynamic we’d curated in the cabin—that he was somehow in charge of me, not only because he seemed to always know better, but because I fucking yearned for him to be.

His lips silenced the strangled alarms wailing in my head, warning me to refuse him. Those sirens already knew they’d lost the battle. The chemistry he and I had created wasn’t a fight I could take on—it was scarcely even an argument to participate in—and all I knew as my mouth parted to accept him was that there was no question about who’d win.

He would win.

The passion would win.

There was no overcoming it.

All the years I’d stumbled on after Ray had let me down, insisting I was happy to be single and thriving in my alleged choices, when all it had taken was one determined ex-ranger and a snowstorm to incinerate my theory.

Standing there in the cabin, that was what my prior choices looked like—ashes collating in the fireplace. I might have been content watching Netflix with a packet of popcorn. I might even have enjoyed the early nights and the long, hot bubble baths, but one thing was clear. I’d never known what I’d been missing; had never factored in a desire so primal that it would override my own logic.

My head clouded as he claimed me, switching off all non-essential functions and focusing only on Eli. The heat of his body against mine, the strength of his arms as he cradled me, and the possessive probing of his tongue as it sought to master my mouth were the only markers of how long we were entwined. By the time he’d withdrawn, I was dizzied and left gripping his muscular shoulders for support.

“Stop. Pushing. Me.”

He punctuated his words, though each was soft as it floated over me.

“You won’t like what happens if you don’t.”

“You mean you’ll spank me again?”

My pulse accelerated at the idea.

The first time he’d thrown me over him had been ruthless and unexpected, but it had taught me two important things. That I could handle his palm and live to tell the tale, and, given the right impetus, I might even grow to relish its ministrations—and they had been complete revelations. Until then, I’d never even contemplated being spanked, yet the idea had been almost impossible to get out of my head ever since.

He hesitated, his eyebrow rising as he held me.

“You’d like that.”

It was more of a statement than a question, but I sensed a pull to reply regardless.

“Yes.”

I didn’t know what had come over me or who the shameless woman in his arms was, but clinging to him, there was only one answer to give. Yes, I wanted him to give me what I yearned for.

“Yes, sir.”

I’d loathed the initial spanking, mainly because he had no right to administer it, and I sure as hell hadn’t deserved it, but knowing he could deliver something that ignited both pleasure and pain excited me.

Maybe I would let him spank me again, and perhaps, the next time, I’d go willingly over his lap.

What would it be like to choose the denigration, to concede in such an overt and physical way? Not because he was coercing me in some chilling way, but because he’d unleashed a brazen facet of Erin who needed more and wanted to know what it was like to fold over his body and present herself for his palm.

A dark shiver raced along my spine at the tantalizing thought.

I did want him to spank me, and for the first time, there was no shame in admitting it.

There was only him and me stuck there.

Why not indulge myself?

“You are truly something, little girl…”

He shook his head as though he couldn’t keep up with me.

“I love the irony. You fought me at every possible turn the first time, and now you want me to spank you?”

“Yes.”

I craved his close attention again—first the physical rebuke and then, once the heat of the spanks had diffused around my reddening ass, the pleasure that only he could bring afterward.

“Will you, sir?”

“Are you fucking joking?”

His digits relaxed, clasping the back of my head as he stared into my eyes.

“I’d love to put you right back in your place, little girl, and then, once you’re begging for my cock, I’ll take you to the stars.”

My lips tugged at how bloody good that sounded, even though the subdued, rational part of my brain screamed that it was a mistake, that I should resist and concentrate on finding a way out of the cabin.

Perhaps I should have stolen his waterproofs, taken the remaining food, and made a run for it.

At least then I’d know what had become of Chelle, and I’d be free of his constant desire to control me.

But like the rest of me, that facet knew I wouldn’t listen.

Pressed up against his body, I realized I couldn’t take the risk.

I could run, could flee and take my chances with the snow and ice, but if I left, I’d never know what might have been.

The emptiness of that thought was suffocating.

I’d never know if the sentiment stirring between us was only born of casual sexual hedonism, or if there was room for more, something that had the potential to bloom into genuine affection.

It might have been nothing—the chemistry swirling between our bodies.

Nothing more than a rush of hormones and emotions in a high-stakes environment, but perhaps it was truly something.

Something I’d never known before and something I’d never find elsewhere.

I couldn’t take the chance that I walked out of the crappy little cabin and never found the same intensity of longing for someone else—for his face, his mouth, his hands, and his cock.

I wanted all of him over me, on me, and inside me.

“You really want this?”

His hand slid to my ass and squeezed.

“Do you care, sir?”

Gazing up at him, I almost laughed.

Who was the man so concerned with my consent? Surely, it couldn’t be the same man who’d yanked me away from the door and down over his lap only a few hours before?

“What?”

His brow furrowed.

“Of course I care. Everything I’ve done here has been for you. To keep you safe and happy.”

I might have argued over how delivering a so-called punishment was supposed to keep me happy, but the idea was counter-intuitive. If I wanted him again, it was better that I stayed on track.

“Okay…”

My finger trailed a line over his bicep.

“So, where do you want me, sir?”

A frisson of anticipation ran through me as, releasing me, he motioned to the chair.

“This worked well last time, little girl.”

He arched his eyebrow, no doubt realizing how the tiny gesture appeared to liquefy my sex, and my body responded reflexively, as though he’d been conditioning me into the reaction for years.

“Erm, yeah.”

I felt oddly bereft and exposed standing there without the comfort of his embrace.

“Come on, then.”

He beckoned to me with his index finger as he settled on the seat.

“It looks like you’re perfectly dressed, so get that pretty little backside over here.”

Stumbling forward, my heart was in my mouth. On the precipice of getting precisely what I said I wanted, my pulse was racing, and no matter where I planted my feet, I couldn’t seem to keep still.

“Come here.”

He reached his hand out and took mine, guiding me to his side.

“Are you nervous, little girl?”

Who was he kidding? I was bursting with anxious excitement.

“A little, sir.”

“That’s good.”

He glanced up at me with a grin.

“Nerves keep us on our toes.”

His free hand rose and grazed over my left breast, and unthinkingly, I arched into his touch. Even the tiniest caress seemed magnetic in the growing fervor of the cabin, the energy thicker than it had been earlier. Eli and I had fucked more than once already, so I couldn’t understand the electricity sparking between us, but shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I recognized the perturbed need in me. I craved the brunt of his palm, needed to feel its weight as it crashed down over my skin, and the more he made me wait, the more my desire amplified.

“I’ve never wanted to do this before.”

Wait, was that my voice? I hardly knew the raspy tone leaving my lips.

“I know.”

His smug tone might have bothered me, but the way his thumb and forefinger were lengthening my nipple was making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything except the hot, thrumming yearning at my core.

“You’re wonderful, and you have nothing to worry about. You know I’ll take care of you.”

Did I know that? Brow furrowing, I tried to decide, but when his hand left mine and traveled to my behind, I realized it didn’t matter. I was there, naked, and asking for what I wanted. I didn’t want to turn back.

“Are you warm enough?”

His fingers relented, cradling the weight of my breast as he waited on my verdict.

“I’m…”

Glancing around, I recalled how the fire had extinguished a while ago.

“I guess I should be cold, but I’m not, sir.”

“That’s good.”

His voice had become a low, seductive purr.

“Once I’ve taken you in hand, we’ll need a longer-term plan to keep you hot, but for now, we’ll go with carnality.”

I laughed at the way he made that sound, the noise hollow as apprehension furled in my tummy.

This is really happening!

Throat drying, I stared over the edge of his trouser-clad thighs. At any moment, he’d pull me down, and the spanking would begin. I couldn’t decide if I was terrified or elated.

“Here we are then.”

He patted my backside.

“Tell me what you want, little girl.”

What? He knew what I wanted. That was why I was standing there.

“But…”

I sensed the embarrassed heat crawling to my face, accepting that my discomfort was probably the point.

“I don’t know what to say, sir.”

“Tell me what you want.”

His tone was matter-of-fact, as though asking to be spanked was an everyday event.

“Ask and you shall receive, Erin.”

Oh, God.

I inhaled, hardly believing that he expected me to say it out loud. Hadn’t I already made my wishes clear? I certainly had, but I supposed demanding my supplication only ratcheted the ardor for us both. The growing bulge in his pants verified the point.

“I’d like to be spanked, please, sir.”

There, I’d said it, and turning to meet his smile, I acknowledged the sense of liberation that washed over me with the admission.

If I ever got out of the woods and made it back to my life, I’d never be the same woman again.

The old Erin would never have admitted such a thing.

Hell, she’d have denied the urge and shouted down anyone who tried to infer otherwise because she wasn’t comfortable with her own sexuality.

In fact, standing there, I realized it was possible I’d never even given the matter any thought until Eli had bowled into my life.

Sex had always just been a function of relationships—something I gave away in return for other, more useful services, such as help around the house.

Only Eli had electrified my passion and helped me to understand my own desires, and whatever happened between us, I’d be eternally thankful for that.

“There.”

He straightened in the chair, the hand at my ass rising to grip the back of my neck and tugging me toward him.

“You told me. Well done, little girl.”

I went without a fuss, reveling in the way he took control and the heat of his breath on my skin as his lips skimmed over mine.

“Thank you, sir.”

Our gazes met for the longest moment before he patted his thighs with his free hand, and with three deft words, my fate was sealed.

“Over you go.”