Page 14 of Wanting What’s Wrong

Eleven

Kat

I t must be morning, but it is still dark and cloudy as the gentle sound of drizzle hits the window. I open my eyes, almost breathless with regret.

The bed is empty. His pillow is cool. He must be feeling the same way. I imagine him downstairs, pacing in the kitchen, waiting for me to say we’ve made a mistake. That it can never happen again.

Probably even has the car waiting to take me home. His eyes won’t meet mine. I’m positive.

A nauseous shame engulfs me, making it impossible to swallow as I pick up my crumpled sundress and put it back on.

I don’t even have any clean panties—I hadn’t planned to spend the night and yesterday’s pair are in no shape to be worn again.

I pick them up from the carpet, feeling the stiffness with my dried desire.

I make my way down the long upstairs hallway, the worst walk of shame imaginable. But downstairs, I find only silence, the kitchen is empty, there’s not a sign of Trent anywhere.

Snaking my way through the labyrinth of the first floor, I poke my head into every perfectly-decorated room. The library. The home theater. The dining room. The workout room. But I find no sign of him.

“Trent?” I call out in the huge great room, my voice echoing.

Nothing. Just the sound of the refrigerator humming away.

I walk onto the long terrace that overlooks the lake, partly protected by the overhang of the second floor. “Trent? Are you out here?”

“Right here, Kitty Kat.”

I startle as I spin toward his voice.

He’s ascending the stone stairway from under the terrace, his body dripping wet—glistening and hard—wearing only his camo pants.

The drizzle falls onto his muscles and tattoos, making him look shiny and polished. The white bandages still in place.

I swallow hard, trying to keep my eyes on his face.

But his fatigues hang low on his hips. He’s wearing no belt and obviously doesn’t have anything on underneath. That amazing indent of his V-shaped muscles makes me swallow hard again, my skin hot, my face flush, as I deliberately focus on his eyes.

God, how I love his eyes.

He walks right over to where I stand under the dry safety of the terrace roof. He snakes a hand around the back of my neck, squeezing.

I battle against the moan but lose as he steals my breath away. Quite literally. Surely this is all still a dream. Surely. Surely.

“Morning.” His deep voice rumbles as the muscle in his jaw flexes and he runs his other hand over his naked chest. The stark white of the bandages and tape remind me of the horrors he’s endured .

“Morning,” I manage to whisper back. I don’t know how to say what needs to be said. No idea at all. The only way to do it is rip the Band-aid off. 3-2-1, go. “Yesterday was a mistake. I know that. I—”

His eyes flash with anger, with danger. All the air disappears and my throat goes dry, sucking the rest of what I was going to say down into the abyss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His grip tightens on my neck. Powerful enough to remind me he may have killed men with his bare hands.

I freeze. Breathless. Shocked. Like a deer in headlights.

He kisses me, hard , clutching the front of my throat now, his tongue pressing into my mouth until my body melts into his.

When the kiss breaks, I’m left gasping. “No bullshit, Kitty Kat. No pretense. Do you really think it was a fucking mistake?”

His blue eyes dart from my mouth to my eyes, then back, searching for my answer.

I count to three. To take a moment. It had to be a mistake. It had to be. But his grip is tight on my windpipe, making it hard to take a full breath. Making it hard to think about anything other than his raw, masculine power.

Instinct overtakes me. Desire knocks down my morality. “No,” I gasp, the word stomping out all logic, as the heat from his body flows over me.

“Good.”

I swallow against his palm. “Is it?”

He nods. “I had to jump in that ice cold water to get my cock under control this morning. I’d have fucked you ten times before you woke up. But you needed to sleep. And, you look fucking cute while you sleep.”

My hips tip into him, and I feel my wetness start to flow out of me, hot and needy. “Really?”

He nods, like he’s borderline pissed about it. “Don’t you fucking do that to me. Ever again. ”

“Do what?”

“Lie to me. Be polite. Fucking sugarcoat things. You want me and I want you and I don’t give a fuck about how we got here. That clear?”

He digs his muscular, powerful, lethal hand into my throat, his thumb sinking viciously into the hollow of my cheek. “ Clear?” he barks.

“Clear,” I gasp.

“Good girl,” he growls, making my belly flip. He cups my cheek and his other hand takes mine, guiding it over the front of his pants. He runs my open palm over his hard cock. “No fucking mistake here. None.”

I run my hand up and down, feeling the swelling length under the fabric, my own tingling fire beginning to erupt inside me. Once again, I’m aware of my tender ass from last night.

In my desire, and under his unwavering protection, I find my confidence. My sass and sparkle. “I thought you took care of that. Or wasn’t the water cold enough?”

“I was fucking fine until I saw you. The way the light cuts through this dress, showing everything I want to sink my teeth into again.”

He leans down, licking my lips with his tongue, and gives my lower lip a quick, nasty bite.

“Ouch,” I snarl, and reflexively slap his face away.

His eyebrow shoots up, that vein in his forehead coming to life. “Did you just slap my fucking face, little girl?”

Oh shit. “I…”

“You liked your punishment yesterday. You fucking loved it .” His voice deepens as he snaps his tongue over his teeth. “You can just ask for more baby. No hitting Daddy just to get what you need.”

My belly clenches and my heart takes off like a race horse running the Preakness. But I can’t find a single word .

“No point in being shy, baby girl. I got to taste the evidence.”

I let out a groan that sounds so urgent, so dirty, that it surprises even me. Never in my entire life would I have imagined a man like him would want me. Like he’s a wolf and I’m his mate.

And he’s never going to let me go.

“I loved it,” I say, barely louder than the drizzle pattering down. My cheeks flush almost painfully and I find myself biting my cheek at the flash of that crooked smile, as I dance my tongue across my lower lip.

Now it’s his turn to groan. More primal. More intense. More aggressive than I could ever be.

“You keep rubbing my dick and batting those lashes, and I’m going to shoot my load right here, baby girl.”

“Again?”

“Fucking right. Your dimples make me lose. My. Shit. ”

The muscles in his chest flex as I run my hand over the smooth hard skin of his pecs, avoiding the bandages, while my other palm still works the tall stiff erection inside his pants.

“Time to take this inside, baby girl,” he says, his breath hot and sweet against my cheek. He envelops me in his arms, lifting me up against him, as my ankles lock behind the hard, smooth muscles of his waist.

“Oh, Trent, ” I gasp. His hand slips up under my dress, cupping my ass, my already-damp slit riding hard against his body.

The tension grows inside me as his abs press against my clit with every step, making me pulse and flutter.

I can’t help but groan and lower my head onto his rock-solid shoulder.

“I feel that fucking greedy little pussy on my belly,” he growls. “You’re going to make me lose my goddamned mind.” He kisses my neck as he brings me through the living room, into a guest suite that looks out over the lake, lowering me onto the bed, and finally rolling me over onto all fours .

“Lose the dress. Now.” He tugs the fabric over my head, leaning down to take my mouth again in a deep, passionate kiss. “Time for me to ripen that ass of yours for lying to me. And then I’m going back into that pussy for an hour or so.”

Oh lord. Before I can say another word, his arm pulls back and he’s on me with a startling, mind-clearing smack.

“Tell Daddy you like that, Kat. Tell Daddy you need to be spanked and you need it hard. ”

Daddy. Daddy. His words swirl inside my head. Nothing has ever made me feel so hot, so fast.

He’s testing the waters again and I know it. Telling me to call him Daddy. Waiting to see my reaction.

I hesitate. It’s already so much, us, together like this. Now, I’m not so sure.

Daddy. Daddy?

It makes my pussy gush. But saying it—it seems so hard. Like the words are stuck in my throat.

Another spank. And another. The searing pain lights up my body and then my brain, like my mind is full of Fourth of July sparklers.

“Tell Daddy you’ve been bad, Kitty Kat. Tell him you need him to set you straight.”

My walls clench like I’m ready to come. His words alone inching me over the edge.

I know he’s right. I do need it. All of it. The spanking. My Daddy.

“Daddy,” I growl against the mattress, relief spilling through me. “I need you. I need you to show me.”

Again. And again. And again. Three savage smacks, lower now on the backs of my thighs, echo around the room like gunshots, and then my brain catches up with the pain and I crumple down on my elbows.

Instinctively my hand moves behind me to block the painful blows, just like a little girl would .

But, even that, even that defensiveness, it brings something to life inside me. I don’t know why, but I need this. I have always needed it. And I have always needed it from him. Him.

“Move your hand. You hide from Daddy, you get punished twice as hard.”

He gives me a second to respond, and I do, taking my hand away and placing it on the mattress, my forehead digging into the bedding only to feel the fire across my body again, and this time harder.

Three more. Orange-hot, red-hot, then white-hot heat fills every cell in my being.

The explosion of pain and passion from my punishment makes me feel like a rabid animal. Diamond-tipped pin-pricks of pain envelop my skin as the throbbing sensations echo through my clit, and I feel my wetness stream out of me.

A cruel laugh now. A cocky groan. “Look at my sister’s pussy gush .”