Hottie

by Alex, Demi

  “Please…” she panted.

  With a warning glint in his eyes, he ignored her entreaty.

  She whined in frustration, trying to reach for his balls, only to find her hands suddenly trapped above her head.

  “I say when,” he repeated, flexing his hips and dipping his dick in her juices. “I fuck you, sweetheart. You don’t fuck me—not unless I say you do.”

  Hottie lifted her off the table, secured her legs around his waist, and lowered her onto his erection, a slow and torturous inch at a time. Long and thick, he stretched her, waited for her to adjust to his cock, then pushed a little further while pulling her lower.

  She tried to move, to take him in and out, but he held her in place, pulling her down and burying himself at his leisure. His fingers had not prepared her for his girth. He filled her. Consumed her. Claimed her.

  One thrust…two…

  “Together,” he said, then sealed his mouth to hers and pushed a long finger inside her ass.

  Her climax splintered through her body as he groaned out his pleasure.

  He turned and sat on the table, allowing his control to slip as they climbed high. Her nails dug into his back, and her teeth sank into his shoulder. As her orgasm subsided, he stroked her hair, held her in his embrace, and kissed the length of her neck, whispering words of treasure against her skin.

  If only he’d cradle her in his lap and let her sleep in his arms.

  “You ready?” he rasped.

  “For?”

  “Your spanking.”

  Before she could respond, he was on his feet and turning around. He placed her upon the kitchen table on her hands and knees.

  “Shoulders down, ass up,” he murmured, adjusting her so.

  “But—”

  “Hush,” he instructed. “I lead, you follow. Remember?”

  Holy shit, he really was going to spank her.

  In the bowed position, Phoebe cradled her head upon her forearms and closed her eyes, hoping the darkness would settle her racing thoughts and her pounding heart. Though she couldn’t see him behind her, she felt him there, felt his gaze burning into her skin like the potent rays of a noonday’s sun.

  The coolness of the room in contrast to the heat of her exposed sex compounded the myriad of sensations assaulting her body—arousal and anxiety and anticipation to name a few. Cum trickled down her thighs, and shame flamed her cheeks. She was sloppy wet, and this displayed position just highlighted the wantonness of her actions.

  More, Hottie was going to punish her for coming without permission. Like the alpha men of those erotic e-novels she’d secretly read when she’d been alone, Dane was going to dominate her, discipline her, complete her, consume her, make her beg, make her plead, and perhaps make her come all over again. Hell, the mere thought of it made her want to cream herself.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked. “And don’t lie.”

  Obviously a man of detail, he must have noticed the slight tensing of her muscles, the shuddering breath. How else could he know her initial intent?

  Rather than lie, she said nothing.

  “Speak, Phoebe. Tell me what you feel.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “I don’t want to, Sir,” he corrected.

  If her eyes hadn’t been closed, she might have rolled them. “I don’t want to, Sir.”

  The air shifted, indicating his movement. “Do you not trust me?”

  What a weird thing to say. What did trust have to do with her naked body displayed on a table waiting for a spanking? Well, unless he wondered if she trusted him to dish out a dose of discipline. But again, silly. How could she not? She’d given him full access to her body, hadn’t she? If she doubted him, she definitely wouldn’t have stayed on the table.

  “I trust you to spank me,” she offered.

  A callused palm smoothed over the curve of ass cheek. “So, you trust me with your body, but not your thoughts.”

  What was she to say to that? That this whole situation was thrilling and titillating and sexy and scandalous and…a tad slutty of her? Or maybe just plain stupid.

  While she liked to think she was being sexually adventurous, exploring something she’d always fantasized about but never thought to realize before, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of doubt. Sex with a stranger was already something heavy, but submitting—relinquishing herself to said stranger totally—mind, body and soul—seemed not only desperate, but dangerous.

  Damn, she wanted to do it anyway.

  Hell, she was doing it.

  Chapter Four

  Hot Kitchen Moments

  Dane ran his finger through the warm cream wetting her thighs. Her cream. Her cum. The woman erupted on his fingers, in his mouth, and was completely insatiable until he’d spent himself deep inside her. She was so fucking amazing he’d barely remembered the condom before taking her. Miss Phoebe Morris would demand more control than he was used to expending in his sexual adventures—and truth be told, he wasn’t short on adventures.

  How any asshole hadn’t valued and cared for her was a mystery to him. Phoebe needed to be taken care of in a treasured manner. Her body called for pleasure to ripple over it and to erase the sadness, and stubbornness, she’d come to him with. But in order to do that, she had to allow him, to want it, and to empower him. She needed to submit to him—fully. Then, he could take care of all her needs.

  “It’s not like that,” she mumbled.

  “What’s it like then?” he asked, finding it harder to concentrate as the moments passed. Her pussy, slick and wet, glistened in the light, tempting him to sink his hard dick inside her tight little hole yet again.

  While he imagined Phoebe thought him cruelly testing her boundaries, he wondered if she knew how much she was testing his. It was difficult to discipline the woman he wanted nothing more than to fuck in the exact moment; however, he recognized her need for structure and control, and he’d give it to her if it killed him. And another truth be told, he knew they would both come to enjoy this spanking once it commenced.

  “It’s like… I don’t know.” Her gorgeous ass swayed from side to as he massaged her juices into the softness of her thighs. “I think you’re taking too long. Just spank me already.”

  At least they were getting somewhere now. “I need to know what’s in your head, Phoebe. We have nothing to hide between us.”

  A natural submissive, his disapproval, even vaguely worded, was not lost on her. If he read the slight movement of her spine correctly, she’d cringed. However, he was making it his responsibility to have her submit in the right way, to the right sort of man. A man that would honor and care for her as she deserved. But to make that a reality, she had to honor and care for herself.

  After a minute, with a heavy sigh, she lifted her head and looked over her shoulder at him. “You’re giving me too much time to think,” she confessed. “I’m starting to ponder my decisions, my actions, and…truthfully, I feel kind of slutty up here with my snatch all up in your face. I hardly know you.

  “True, it’s the best sex ever, but this level of recklessness is so unlike me. The only reason I’m still on this table, in this awkward position, is because I’m still naked, and I agreed earlier that—at least for now—you pretty much own my ass. And, I can’t remember the last time I was spanked.”

  Oh, boy, how he loved when she was in full brat mode.

  “I think I’d rather like a spanking.”

  Suppressing a grin, he strolled over to his jar of cooking utensils “Well, Phoebe, let me begin by thanking you for your candid honesty and compliment you on your willpower—which undoubtedly, kept you in your position.”

  She dropped her head in acceptance.

  “You want me to own your ass?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “As in, you want me to fuck your ass? Or as in, you want me to spank your ass?”

  “Yes,” she repeated.

  His cock jerked. He was ready to fuck her again…but not
till he’d set the ground rules. This woman was seriously going to be the death of his dick.

  “While we are new to each other, we’ve managed to develop a bond of sorts in a very short time—one of mutual respect and trust—which we can build upon as we learn more about each other and grow into our relationship.” Dane removed a wooden spoon and tested its weight on his palm.

  She glanced at him, all sparkly eyed, but lowered her gaze when she realized he’d caught her watching.

  “I want you to know I took my time beginning your punishment, not only because I could, but because I wanted to memorize every inch of your beautiful body before I began.” With great anticipation, he returned to his previous position behind her. “It’s my responsibility to see to your safety, and I want to know every mark on your skin.”

  “Are you going to hit me with that?” she asked. “Can’t you just use your hand?”

  He ignored the question—she already knew the answer, whether she wanted to face it or not. “The reason I have you up on my kitchen table goes beyond the ease of executing your discipline. It not only highlights your vulnerability, but also shows you trust me to care for you when you are vulnerable. I’m honored you trust me to care for you, and I promise not to let you down.” He lightly smoothed the spoon over the curve of her ass. “No one should let you down. That is the one thing you should demand.”

  “Oh, God,” she groaned, turning away and pressing her forehead on her balled fists. “I must be crazy for allowing this.”

  “I’m so glad you are able to recognize and embrace your power. Without your consent, this, between us, would not be happening. I have only taken control because you gave me the ability to do so.

  “Now, concerning your spanking,” he continued, undaunted, “I know you have a list of insecurities bouncing around that pretty head of yours. So, after each fall of the spoon, you will say aloud an affirmation laying those insecurities to rest. One for you, and one for me.”

  Dane took her silence to mean she needed clarification.

  “For example, you might say, ‘I’m a sexually secure adult who can make mature decisions without the biases of society making me feel bad about those decisions.’ Then follow up with, ‘Master Dane doesn’t think I’m slutty. He appreciates my brave, sexually adventurous spirit.’ Got it?”

  She mumbled something.

  “Again.”

  “Got it, Sir,” she responded more clearly.

  “I expect an audible response each and every time. Hands flat on the table, in front of you.”

  Phoebe tensed.

  Usually, he would tell the submissive to relax, that tensing makes it hurt more, but being this was Phoebe’s first discipline with him, he knew there was no way she would be able to so.

  “Here we go.” He brought the spoon down firmly upon the meat of her right cheek. She jerked, bristled at the pain, and from what he could tell, swallowed the impetuous words that threatened to flee past her lips.

  She inhaled loud a couple of times, her nostrils flaring as she moved her head side to side, before clearing her throat. “I’m a mature adult, capable of making mature decisions concerning my sex life.”

  Dane brought the spoon down again. She grunted, and he watched her triceps tighten and her fingers flinch as she fought the urge to reach back and rub the burning sting inflicted upon her bare skin. She seethed, but said nothing.

  He prompted her. “Master Dane…”

  “Master Dane supports my decision to be promiscuous,” she bit out.

  Displeased, he snapped her left ass cheek with the spoon, much harder than he’d initially planned for her first spanking. She yelped accordingly and nearly jumped off the table, but only nearly. She hissed like an angry cat and shot a glare over her shoulder fit to kill.

  “Lose the attitude,” he warned. “I don’t deserve it, and I won’t tolerate it.”

  To her credit, other than the firm set of her jaw and a quivering lower lip, her expression faded to neutral. With a dignified inhale, she closed her eyes, turned forward and lowered her head as if resigned.

  “Are you forgetting something?” he asked.

  “I am going to survive this spanking,” she responded.

  The spoon connected with the lower left seat. She flinched slightly, but he could see she was surprised and relieved that the hit wasn’t nearly as painful as the previous warning strike.

  “Master Dane only disciplines me when I deserve it. Next time, I won’t have an orgasm without his permission.”

  “Very good,” he said sincerely, bringing the spoon against the combined swell of her ass cheeks.

  As if moved by the compliment, she shrugged off some of the bitterness. “I am proud of my body—there is nothing ugly or shameful about it.”

  “That’s so true,” he encouraged, hitting the back of her right thigh.

  “Master Dane finds me beautiful, and likes to see me naked and aroused and wet for him.”

  “Very, very true,” he concurred as he landed on her upper left thigh. He noticed she wasn’t flitching anymore, though, and he hadn’t much altered the power in which he delivered the blows. She winced, but seemed to be handling the punishment well. “I think you’re the most gorgeous woman.”

  “I’m not going to be held back emotionally by the betrayals of past lovers. I deserve better than that.”

  “You’re doing great, sweetheart.” He hit the crease of her seat. “Keep going.”

  “Master Dane will help me overcome the lingering bitterness I carry. I don’t want to be a bitch; I just can’t stop it sometimes.”

  He smacked across the meat of both cheeks and tried to ignore the teary tone of her voice that made him want to end the spanking early and gather her in his arms and comfort her. She was so perfect.

  “I’m welcomed here,” she said.

  “More than you could imagine.”

  Smack.

  “Master Dane doesn’t think I’m a desperate vagabond who often sleeps with men she just met.”

  “No. You sleep only with Master Dane.”

  Smack.

  “I’m safe here.”

  Smack.

  “Master Dane will take good care of me. I believe him—in him.”

  Smack.

  “I’m glad I’m here,” she said softly. “I needed this.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, too.” Dane lowered the wooden spoon and gently touched the swollen pink flesh. “We’re going to sit in a cool bath for a few minutes, Phoebe. It will soothe the sting.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  Fuck. His balls were killing him. She was the sweetest temptation he knew.

  Control.

  “Come here, sweetheart.” Careful not to rub against her rosy bottom, he collected her off the table. She went into his arms easily, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He carried her to the bathroom, stroking her silky hair down her back. Her warm breath played in the crook of his neck, and he couldn’t help but to kiss the side of head.

  With Phoebe still in his arms, he leaned over the tub, turned on the water, and squeezed out some shower gel. Too bad he didn’t have any sweet smelling bubble bath for her, but the shower gel was fresh and energizing. It would invigorate her.

  Grabbing a small jar of aloe from the medicine cabinet, he carried her into the living room to wait for the tub to fill.

  He sat on the couch, keeping his knees apart so her mid to lower thighs bore her weight rather than her rear. She rested her head on his shoulder and remained, straddling his lap, confirming her desire to stay in his arms rather than be on her own. She hadn’t lifted away from his neck, but her breathing had calmed. That was a good thing. It meant she still trusted him despite the discipline.

  Using his fingertips as his a guide, he gently coated the hot welts decorating her ass with the soothing salve.

  “Are you crying?” he asked, feeling a trickle of warmth drop onto his neck.

  “No,” she sniffled.

/>   While he could appreciate Phoebe’s desire to present herself as a strong woman incapable of being hurt, he couldn’t allow the fib to slide. He wanted—needed—to know what was going on in her head. It was not uncommon for a submissive to become emotional after discipline, so he wanted to follow up with the proper amount of aftercare—a very important step in the disciplinary process.

  “We already addressed this. Nothing hidden between us.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Talk to me, Phoebe,” he encouraged, doing his best to keep his tone firm, yet tender. He suppressed the urge to simply command her to share. She was learning, and he had to be patient, to allow for her to adjust. “It’s important to maintain open communication. Always.”

  “It’s hard not to fall for the pretense. To not believe this with my heart.”

  Dane clenched his jaw; the word pretense bothered him more than he cared to admit. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding, “I don’t know what ‘believe this’ means.”

  “This!” She pulled back, static anger sparking around her. “This—this thing you’re doing. This show of caring. Pretending I mean something to you. Holding me as if you cherish me, putting cream on my sore ass, running a bath to soothe the sting. This damn façade of a blissful relationship!”

  “I do care about you,” he stated.

  “But you don’t love me. You’re doing things you should only do to—with—someone you love. I know sex is sex, and sex is for mutual pleasure, but this tenderness, this is…more. It’s not fair to make me feel more than what you promised me outside. It…I don’t know…it hurts, I guess.”

  Dane wasn’t one to overanalyze and label emotions, but as he stared into Phoebe’s glistening eyes, he figured he was as close to love at first sight with this woman as the hard and practical person he was would ever get. Truthfully, he didn’t believe in the mush, but Phoebe had a special way of getting to him. He figured it was her vulnerable soul, lying bare and exposed and drowning in those tearful depths, that called to him as a man. It made him want to protect her, cherish her the way a man should cherish a woman. How she should have always been cherished in the first place.