One hand flattened on my lower back while the other massaged my ass. “Such a perfectly spankable ass.”
I tensed, still nervous about the subject of spanking. “Relax,” he crooned. “We can stop any time you want.”
“I know,” I assured him and relaxed as he massaged my ass and the backs of my thighs.
When Ty’s hand stopped massaging my backside, I let out a whimper of protest, which turned to a yelp of surprise when he smacked my ass just hard enough to make it sting a little. He began massaging again, spreading the stinging and increasing my arousal. His hand came down twice in quick succession across the center. While each swat stung, they also caused vibrations in my core, which had me moaning, and shifting to bring my legs close together to help with my growing arousal.
“Are you doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked.
“God, yes,” I replied on a moan.
“I knew you’d love this,” Ty murmured before spanking me several more times. He varied the intensity and location of each swat, leaving me almost dazed from arousal.
The warm, stinging sensation had me moaning and writhing. Ty’s hand began to massage my backside again, spreading the heat, and making me whimper with need.
“Fucking gorgeous,” Ty uttered, removing his hand from my lower back and taking a step back.
When I stood and turned toward him, his mouth crashed down on my mine, stealing my breath and my ability to think. I could taste myself on his tongue as he boldly explored my mouth. My hands reached forward, struggling with his belt and pants. Pushing his pants and boxers down, I sighed into his mouth when his dick sprang free. He groaned as my hand wrapped around him, squeezing and stroking. Ty’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, and he broke the kiss.
“Enough of that or I’ll lose control,” he warned.
“I like the sound of that,” I replied, licking my lips and looking down at his cock. It was the truth; I wanted Ty feeling the same frenzied need I was.
Ty spun me so he could reach the zipper on my dress. Quickly stripping me out of my dress, he unhooked my bra and slid it down my shoulders. His hands continued to move down my body until they gripped my hips. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”
“I want your dick, Ty,” I panted out. “I want you to fuck me.”
He gave my already stinging ass a light swat. “You are gorgeous when you talk dirty.”
Without breaking eye-contact, he stripped his shirt over his head before sitting on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. When he stood again, Ty stripped out of his pants, leaving him gloriously naked.
My body was aching with arousal, and I needed him in me.
“Get on the bed,” he commanded, his voice rough. “On your hands and knees. I want to see that perfectly spanked ass of yours while I fuck you.”
Nodding, I crawled onto the bed, remaining on my hands and knees as I looked at him over my shoulder with an inviting smile.
“You are by far the hottest woman I’ve ever met,” he praised, grabbing a condom from his bedside table. Coming up behind me, he positioned the head of his cock at my entrance. When I began to rock back against him, he gave my ass a sharp smack, ripping a moan from the back of my throat. “Don’t move,” Ty ground out. “You stay just like that until I tell you to move.”
I moaned because I loved Ty’s dominant sexy commands. Holding still was hard when I was this aroused, but I found the struggle even more arousing. He slowly pressed into my body, stretching me, and making me pulse around him. Ty was big enough that I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to how full I felt when he was inside of me. “Do you want to move now?” Ty asked.
“Yes,” I panted out.
“Show me how much you want this,” he coaxed. “Move that sexy ass around for me.”
Encouraged by his words, I rocked back against Ty, grinding against him. Ty began to thrust into me, as we moved in perfect harmony, feeding my pleasure and driving me closer to another orgasm. When I began to scream and moan, Ty gripped my hips tightly, slamming into my body with enough force that I could no longer balance my weight on my hands and had to go down on my elbows. That shift in position caused Ty’s dick to hit just the right spot to make me come so hard, I saw black spots. Violent waves of pleasure washed over my body, and I screamed Ty’s name.
Ty groaned, his dick twitching inside of me as he found his own release. After Ty pulled out of me and left the bed to dispose of the condom, I collapsed onto my side with a contented sigh.
Settling in behind me, Ty wrapped an arm around my waist and snuggled close to me. His lips brushed the hair on the back of my head. “I have an idea.”
“Just as long as it doesn’t involve me moving, I’m willing to listen,” I told him.
“Let’s stay in bed forever,” he suggested.
“What if we get hungry?” I asked.
“I’ll talk Chelsea into delivering food,” he assured me.
“Chelsea is not going to deliver food to your bed,” I argued.
“Sure she will,” he insisted. “My sister would never let me starve.”
“You might be right, but staying in bed forever still sounds like a terrible idea,” I told him.
“What if I promise to keep you so sated you never want to leave my bed?” he offered. “Or I could just tie you to my bed and keep you here forever.”
“But then we’d miss out on having sex in your kitchen,” I pointed out.
“And my shower,” he added. “You’re right. I didn’t think this idea through very well. I still want to fuck you bent over the arm of my sofa while you’re in those shoes.”
It was then that I noticed I was still wearing my shoes, but I didn’t have the energy to do anything about it.
“It would be a shame to miss out on that,” I agreed before letting out a sleepy yawn. “First, I need a little time to recover.”
“Fine, but after you’re recovered, I want you to ride my face until you scream. Then I’m going to fuck you over the arm of my sofa.”
“I’m recovered,” I insisted, rolling to face Ty.
“Glad to hear that, sweetheart,” he murmured with a wicked grin. “Now, get your sweet pussy up here so I can make you scream my name again.”
I could definitely find the energy for an offer like that.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ty
I was bored out of my fucking mind. For the last six hours, I’d been stalking a man to find proof he was cheating on his wife. I’d shown her the photos of him leaving the same motel room around midday twice a week, but she insisted she needed a photo of him with the woman. I’d checked into this sleazy motel at my client’s expense, and I was lounging by the pool that was conveniently located near the room my client’s husband always rented. My back was killing me from sitting on the crappy lounge chair, snapping the occasional photo on my phone. Normally, I used my expensive DSLR, but a guy sitting alone at a swimming pool with a camera was not only suspicious, it was creepy.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text from Chelsea.
CHELS: Are you busy?
ME: I’m working on a case. What’s up?
When I didn’t get a response from my sister, unease crawled up my spine. There was no reason for my unease. She could have gotten a call right after texting me, or a client could have walked in. Still, I was relieved when my client’s husband walked out of the motel room with his mistress. I snapped a couple shots of them hand in hand and one of them kissing. After quickly sending them to my work email, I called Chelsea.
“Hello,” she answered, sounding somewhere between pissed and scared.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I’m at my studio,” she replied.
“Put the fucking phone down and talk to me, Chelsea!” Jason, my sister’s asshole ex-husband shouted from the background. His slurred voice meant he was drunk, which came as no surprise. Jason was an alcoholic. Chelsea had left him after finding him drunk off his ass and fucking a client—the bride in a wed
ding they’d just shot.
“You’re scaring me, Jason,” Chelsea told the dick, her voice wavering slightly.
I was already racing toward my car. I was less than ten minutes from Chelsea’s Emeryville studio, so I figured I could get there faster than the police. Jason had never hit my sister, but he had a tendency to be destructive in other ways when he was drunk. I also wasn’t convinced his violence wouldn’t escalate. He’d been getting more unstable over the last year.
“I’m on my way, Chels,” I assured her, starting up my car and racing toward my sister. The call went dead; meaning Jason had either taken her phone and refused to give it back or smashed it. I was betting on the latter while he was drunk.
I called the police, but refused to stay on the line as they’d suggested. They seemed to think I was overreacting, but promised to send an officer to check on Chelsea. Thankfully, traffic was good, and I made it in just over five minutes. I parked in a handicap spot when I saw the shades were pulled, hiding my sister’s studio from view. There was no mistaking the angry shouts as I slid my key into the lock on the door, thankful Chelsea had thought to give me a key.
What I saw when I walked in stripped me of any restraint I’d ever possessed when it came to dealing with Jason Edgewood.
Jason had my sister pinned against a wall by his large frame. One of his hands was wrapped around her throat while the other was shaking a piece of paper in her face. “A fucking restraining order? You ungrateful little cunt! I made you what you are!”
My hand landed on Jason’s shoulder, and just like that, his mood switched. He turned to me with a friendly smile. “This isn’t what it looks like, Tyler.”
“It looks like you were choking my sister,” I ground out. “It sounded like you were insulting my sister.”
“Nah,” he said, waving off my words. “You know how your sister can be. We’re just talking.”
“Gonna be hard to talk with a broken jaw, you fucking prick,” I snapped before my fist made contact with his jaw. Jason staggered back but didn’t go down, so I hit him again, this time enjoying the crunch of his nose.
“What the fuck,” Jason slurred before taking a clumsy swing at me.
I dodged his punch and hit him again. This time, the asshole collapsed to the ground, where he stayed in a pitiful, bloody pile.
Turning to Chelsea, I found her holding her neck, looking visibly shaken.
“Are you okay?” I asked, rushing over to wrap my arms around my sister.
“I’m fine, Tyler,” she replied weakly. “We need to call the police, but Jason broke my phone.”
“Yeah,” Jason whimpered from the ground. “Call the police. Your brother assaulted me.”
Pushing away from me, my sister stalked across the room and kicked Jason. From where I was standing, I couldn’t see where the kick landed, but based on Jason’s howls of pain, I’d say she’d nailed him in the nuts. Even knowing the asshole deserved it, I still cringed.
“You stupid jerk!” Chelsea shouted. “The police are for you. I would explain this to you, but you are obviously too stupid to understand what an asshole you are.”
Chelsea came back to me, and I put an arm around her. “Way to tell him, Sis.”
After making the call to the police to let them know my suspicions about there being a problem were right, we did our best to ignore Jason’s pitiful whimpering and whining. I also did my best to resist the temptation to hit him again.
“Don’t tell Brook what happened,” Chelsea practically pleaded.
“Chels, this isn’t your fault,” I reassured her.
She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Duh. I know it’s not my fault. It’s the dumbass on the floor practically begging me to kick him in the junk again who is at fault.”
“Then why would you want me to avoid telling Brook?” I asked. Chelsea was one of her best friends, and Brook would be pissed if she found out I’d kept something this big from her.
“She talked me into getting the restraining order,” Chelsea explained. “If she finds out, she’ll think this is her fault.”
“Chels, I can’t lie to her about this.”
My sister let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine, just don’t tell her he was mad about the restraining order.”
I nodded, even though I was sure Brook would figure that out on her own.
It took another hour to give our statements and for the police to decide not to arrest me for assault, like Jason was insisting they do.
When I got back to my car, I looked at the time. I remembered Brook saying she had a scheduled client call today, but I couldn’t remember what time, so I decided to text her about what had happened.
ME: I’ll fill you in on the details later, but you won’t be able to reach Chelsea by phone. Her dickhead ex broke her phone. Chels is fine. She kicked him in the junk, and he’s been arrested.
BROOK: OMG! About to jump on a call or I would call you now. Fill me in when you come over tonight.
ME: I’ll fill you in after.
BROOK: After what?
ME: After you’ve been properly fucked.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Brook
I’d seen Ty almost daily for the last week, and everything was going great. I still wasn’t sure if this would last, but I was definitely enjoying things for now. Rob’s calls had become more annoyingly frequent over the last couple of days, and I’d almost called him back to tell him to leave me alone when he started calling me on my cell phone. I could only assume he’d gotten the number from my business website, and I was more than a little annoyed that he wasn’t taking the hint and moving on. According to my attorney, there still hadn’t been any response to the divorce papers.
Ty had stayed at my place last night since I needed to be on a call early this morning. At the moment, he was upstairs showering while I fixed him a cheese omelet. I’d quickly discovered Ty was a much better cook, but he never complained when I cooked for him.
When my phone rang, it took a moment to recognize the number, which was strange since it had been my number growing up. I was tempted to ignore the call, knowing nothing good ever came from talking to my parents. I hadn’t seen either of them since the day of my high school graduation. Based on their irritated expressions during our very brief encounter, they’d been pressured into attending.
I was tempted to ignore the call, but I’d just spend the day wondering if something had happened to one of them if I did that.
“Hello,” I answered in an upbeat tone, trying not to sound like I didn’t want to hear from my parents.
“Elizabeth?” my mother asked, as if she didn’t recognize my voice. Only people from my old life called me Elizabeth. I’d started going by Brook, my middle name, as soon as I moved away from my hometown of Samson Valley. Since my mother didn’t give me a chance to speak before continuing, she obviously knew it was me. “It’s Katherine Loring.”
“Yeah, I know, Mom,” I replied, knowing how much she hated being called Mom. “Is everything okay?”
“You’re getting a divorce, Elizabeth,” she accused, and yes, it sounded like an accusation.
“I go by Brook now, so please call me that, and, yes, I am getting a divorce,” I replied. I was more than a little surprised she knew about my divorce. I hadn’t called her in years, and my parents had never met Rob. I’d sent them a letter shortly after marrying to give them the number to the landline and let them know I was happy, but it had been over a year before I’d gotten any reply. That call had been to lecture me about my sins and ask me for money. After refusing to send money three times, they’d stopped calling.
“That’s all I get?” she demanded. “Divorce? How can you get divorced? This family respects the sanctity of marriage and God’s will. We don’t get divorced.”
That much was true. Death was the only escape from a bad marriage in Samson Valley. It was like the entire community was determined to torture themselves. When I was eight, my grandfather died. What I remembered most
was my grandmother laughing and smiling like she was suddenly free. It was years later when I realized that normal people don’t react that way to the death of their spouse of forty years.
“What would you like me to say, Mom?” I asked. “Yes, I’m getting a divorce. I haven’t seen Rob in years, so there’s no reason to stay married to him.”
“I don’t understand you,” she groused. “You have the perfect situation. He pays the bills and expects nothing from you in return. Why in the world would you bring shame to your family when you have the type of marriage most women dream of?”
“I’m not happy with this arrangement,” I explained. “I only stayed because Rob’s son needed me. Now that he’s grown and finished college, it’s time to end things and move on with my life. I deserve more.”
“Divorce is not an option.” It was clear she was getting angry with me for not agreeing. “God does not approve of divorce. It is God’s will that you remain married. Do you really want to risk the fires of Hell?”
God’s will was my family’s answer to everything. They all lived in a rundown town in central California, and they all attended the same small church, which could easily be described as a cult. Everyone in town married within that church full of people determined to be miserable. It was also likely everyone in town was my cousin, which made the whole situation more than a little weird for me now that I’d seen how the real world worked. It was embarrassing to admit that I’d grown up in a town full of angry, inbred cult members.
“I’m not interested in staying in a bad marriage, and I have a hard time believing God wants everyone to be as miserable as you and Dad are,” I told her.
“We are not miserable!” she snapped. “We find joy in God’s love. This divorce cannot happen, Elizabeth. I forbid it.”
Dirty at 30 (Love Without Batteries Book 1) Page 12
