Her Bad Boy

by Carolyn Faulkner

  He put the drink down on a coaster on the coffee table and sat down on the couch with her, choosing his next words very carefully. "Well, since you're obviously not a good girl—as you've confessed already—and you're not obeying me, then you know what that means I'm going to have to do."

  Her reaction this time was worlds away from what it had been in the little diner. She seemed almost eager, sitting up next to him on her knees.

  "You're gonna spank me?"

  Her eagerness surprised him, to say the least. Lucas considered her for a long moment, then said, "Well, if you continue to refuse to obey me, yes, probably."

  By the time he'd finished the sentence, she had already spread herself over his lap, turning her face up to him to confess sweetly, "I'm not going to drink any of that water, Lucas."

  "You left out the 'and you can't make me' part," he prompted with a smile in his voice.

  But she was ahead of him, issuing the impudent challenge as she stared boldly into his eyes, "I bet you can!"

  He nearly came right then and there. It took him a long moment to get his genitals back under his own control, especially since she kept wiggling all over them.

  "What are you doing?" he asked finally.

  "Taking down my skirt."

  Allie found her hands covered and moved away from her own hips. "That's for me to do, Allyria, not you."

  What was he saying? He couldn't do this. She was drunk and he couldn't take advantage of her like that. Could he?

  And then she said, softly, submissively, "Yes, Sir." It slipped out of her mouth without conscious thought and felt better than she wanted to admit or think about at the moment.

  And by those two little words, he was well and truly undone, and she had sealed her fate.

  Of all the things he'd done in this life that he thought he was probably going to go to Hell for, this was at the very tip top of what was a very long list. Yet he still couldn't stop himself from doing it. Lucas knew he was going to regret it sorely when she sobered up and hated him for it, because as much as he didn't want her to be, she was his opponent. And as much as she was doing her best to walk on the wild side with him, he knew that she would always be a good girl at heart.

  He also knew that his grandmother and mother—in particular—would be ashamed of him for his behavior. His grandfather and father would be royally pissed at him because he was leaving himself open in all sorts of ways that he shouldn't—not the least of which could be her having him arrested for rape, since she was really in no shape to consent.

  He should be a good enough man to resist the temptation. He desperately wanted to be that kind of man, for her, as well as for himself. But he wasn't, apparently. It was a sobering thought, but still, not enough of one to get him to leave her alone.

  So, he found himself finishing the job she'd started and lowering her skirt, taking with it her panties and bunching them up about mid-thigh or so, which would make it harder for her to kick, if she was a kicker. And with the way he spanked, most women in his experience became kickers, even if they weren't before.

  Lucas disciplined with a purpose, and it made him a force to be reckoned with in that arena. He didn't believe in warm ups and he didn't believe in rubbing the pain away before, during or after. He didn't believe in going easy on someone who had decided not to obey him.

  That having been said, that big, heavy hand of his found the rounded curves of her bottom completely irresistible, and he ended up rubbing them, anyway, although it was beforehand and wasn't going to do her any good.

  Her skin was incredibly soft, her flesh firm and resilient. Before he left off, his palm was literally itching to give her the correction she so obviously not only needed, but wanted.

  But he forced himself to take his time, still half expecting that she was going to leap off his lap while he adjusted his position, then hers over his thighs, pulling her more tightly to him and adoring her surprised, "Ooh!" when he did.

  "Give me your far hand," he said, putting his other hand palm down on the couch.

  "Why?" she asked, just as he'd expected she would.

  That response earned her her very first swat. "Don't ask, just obey, young lady."

  And it was an eye opener. She would have sworn that, when he removed his hand from her bottom, he left an imprint of every detail about his palm and fingers in livid red on the fullest crest of her flesh, completely robbing her, momentarily, of her ability to draw air into her lungs.

  Meanwhile, her small hand crept its way to his with considerable more reluctance than she might have had prior to that smack.

  But she didn't cry and jump off his lap, as many women had—when he let them. She stayed where she was. And other than holding her hand, he wasn't keeping her there in any way.

  And he liked that. He liked it when a woman submitted herself to him. Oh, he enjoyed binding them in myriad ways, too, so that they had no choice, but there was nothing like the feeling—to him, as a dom—of the purity of true submission, when the naughty girl had come to terms with the fact that this was exactly what she needed and gave herself over to it—to him—completely and of her own volition.

  Of course, she really didn't know what she'd gotten herself into, he didn't think. Lucas would have bet his last dollar that she'd never been spanked before in her life—even by her parents, who, from all reports, loved her terribly and spoiled her rotten, although they'd somehow, despite that, managed to raise a woman who was—despite her recent attempt to turn to the dark side—just about the farthest thing from a brat he'd ever encountered.

  As soon as her hand made its way into his, he began to spank her, using hard, crisp, very deliberate swats that each meant business, covering all of her behind and down to where her clothes were trapped, then back up again in a very measured, controlled, almost emotionless manner.

  And she responded perfectly—exactly as if she was following the script he'd been writing in his head and playing over and over every evening since they'd had dinner together that night and he'd realized just how compatible they were in regards to this very thing.

  Allie gasped and groaned, whimpering and eventually sobbing rather quickly, none of which he acknowledged in any way, but all of which he loved. She wasn't trying to sound the way she thought he might like her to—she was simply experiencing the pain he was inflicting and reacting in a normal, non-jaded manner. He didn't begrudge it when she began to try to wiggle her enticing little bottom away from each stroke, but he was also experienced enough to anticipate where she was going, so that nearly every smack landed exactly where he wanted it to, despite her efforts, which became more and more frantic and frenetic as the spanking went on.

  Since it was her first ever—and her first from him, as well—he had intended to give her a shorter lesson, but he became quite entranced by everything about what was happening between them, and it went on longer than he might have wanted for her first punishment from him.

  Lucas ended it when it had gotten to the point that he was probably going to have to hold her down, and he didn't want that—at least, not now—so he landed a last few swats that were very near to full force. He always made sure that the last swats he gave a woman were as close to harder than the entire rest of the punishment so it would be the last thing she would remember about it—keeping her on his lap just long enough to deliver those, then he let go of her.

  Even then, she didn't scramble quickly away from him, and he kept her close to him—although he would have released her immediately if she had actively tried to stand up—keeping a hold of her hand and resting his strong, now considerably hot, right hand on the small of her back, rubbing her there soothingly, above where he'd made her hot, too. In more ways than one, he sincerely hoped.

  She was sobbing, and he gave her several tissues so she could dry her eyes and blow her nose. When she was done, he turned her on his lap, slowly and gently, to cradle her in his arms, encouraging her to lean her head against his chest while she continued to sniffle a bit
, offering her the comfort and safety of his arms now that she had been punished and was, therefore, forgiven. At one point, he leaned forward, grabbing the glass and pressing it to her lips. She drank down quite a bit of the water without protest.

  "Good girl," he praised. "But I want you to finish this within the next ten minutes."

  Still damp eyed and flushed, she turned her eyes up to his, asking, even though she thought she probably knew the answer already, "What happens if I don't?"

  Brushing her hair out of her eyes, Lucas answered quietly and truthfully, "Then I will spank you again—longer and harder."

  Allie didn't say anything to that. Instead, she immediately drained the glass in several gulps, making him laugh.

  Lucas could hardly believe that she was sitting here with him like this, his arms around her, her skirt and panties still gathered up around her knees, her bare, sizzling bottom sitting atop a pinstriped bulge that was growing by the second, it seemed.

  On impulse, he leaned down and kissed her, more passionately than he had before, but still not being as physically possessive of her as he might like to be, because he kept expecting that she was going to come to her senses at any moment and want to be free of him.

  But Allie surprised him by returning the kiss whole heartedly, her mouth opening tentatively beneath his, as if in invitation, one he readily accepted, his eager tongue plundering past her lips as a small hand came up to touch his cheek.

  It was the first time she'd ever touched him when she didn't absolutely have to—he discounted her leaning on him in the car as more of a physical necessity—and that realization made him shudder to his core, emboldening him to clamp her more tightly to him, to demand more from her. And when she hesitated slightly, to take it without asking as he wound a hand into her hair and held her still for a much deeper kiss, tugging her head back in a manner that was designed not to hurt her, but to keep her in a position that was submissive to him as he drank in her involuntary gasp when he did so.

  And he held her there, like that, head pulled back, mouth slightly open as he allowed his other hand to move from where it had been cupping her face to trail fingertips that were surprisingly rough down her neck to a delicate collarbone and further, until he felt his hand filled nearly to overflowing, a peak, he was relieved to realize was as tight and hard as he was, pressing insistently into his palm.

  As his fingers found the buttons of her blouse, Lucas pressed his forehead to hers, his breathing erratic, lips murmuring against hers, "Allie, if you don't want this, if you don't want me inside you within the next few minutes, you have to tell me now."

  When she opened her eyes, they were clearer than they'd been all evening as she stared up at him, her speech much less slurred. "What makes you think I don't want you?"

  His eager fingers made quick work of the buttons, easily finding that lace covered bud again and beginning to tease it, stroking lazily back and forth over the crest, dragging the manicured nail of his index finger over and over it as she tried to fidget, but he held her still.

  "You're obviously drunk—you let me spank you when the idea seemed to terrify you, weeks ago, although I know it intrigued you, too."

  "Well, I'm not drunk now, Lucas. That spanking was…sobering, to say the least."

  Barely able to believe what she was saying, he reached inside her bra to cup her breasts in his warm hand, thumbing her nipple expertly as he did so and watching her fall apart in his arms, lips parted, desperate for air as she moaned in a manner that was designed to drive him right over the edge.

  When she had recovered as much as he was going to allow her to, she looked him straight in the eye and said, "Please, Lucas. Make love to me?"

  The plea in her tone twisted his heart as he rose with her in his arms and brought her to his bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind them. Within seconds, she was naked before him, tiptoeing up to nibble at his ear as he began to disrobe himself, delighted when she joined in, and soon, he was as naked as she was.

  Fixing her with an intent gaze that made her shiver, Lucas took a step towards her.

  Allie backed up, giggling, until the backs of her calves hit the end of the bed and she nearly toppled over, except that the man with the long arms reached out to save her. Only he didn't grab onto just any old place—he cupped her bottom with both big hands and squeezed, feeling all sorts of levels of satisfaction when she squealed as he gripped the globes that he had tenderized not long ago, himself.

  "Lucas, ow! Stop!"

  But he ignored her, loving her writhing resistance, lifting her by that grip as she obediently parted her legs and clamped them around his waist. "Is your bottom sore?" he growled.

  "Yes!" she pouted.

  "Good."

  Then she had the audacity to whisper into his ear before nipping at the lobe, "What do I have to do to get you to spank me again?"

  Her back hit the mattress less than a second later, and he followed her down, already poised between her legs, cock in hand.

  But then he caught her eye, amazed that he was able to do so through the haze of lust that had descended over him. "Are you a virgin?"

  "No," she panted, shaking her head.

  "Good, because I can't wait any longer. I won't wait." Allie found herself flipped onto her knees as he used her hips to pull her to him, mounting her swiftly with one breathtaking motion as he bit and sucked at the back of her neck, saying, "You are mine, Miss Allyria Barstow. And I'm going to make sure you won't ever forget that, even for a second."

  Although he began pumping immediately into and out of her, it took Allie a while to come to grips with just how truly invaded she felt. She wanted him, and even her mind had given up the ghost of resistance by that point. It was her body that had her whimpering beneath him, trying to absorb the shock of him taking her so powerfully like that. She had never been made to feel this completely submissive before. She had never felt…used, and if she had, she had been quite sure she wouldn't have liked the sensation at all.

  But she was wrong. Her body loved it—it adored how big and powerful he was, how he could easily do anything he wanted to to her and there wasn't anything she could really do about it—and her mind loved the fact that she wouldn't put anything past him, despite his gentlemanly demeanor.

  The combination of feeling overpowered and overwhelmed, along with that dangerous edge she knew he possessed, was positively explosive. Sex hadn't been the best for her before this. Now, it was damned near killing her.

  Lucas noticed that she was struggling a bit at first, but he liked that and didn't change anything about how he was taking her in the least. He adored annihilating her attempts at resistance and bending her to his will. He liked her off balance like that—she was always so put together and staunch and rigid and unyielding.

  She could no longer claim that last adjective, because she was being kept very busy yielding all of herself—inside and out—to him.

  He made no accommodations for the fact that she wasn't very experienced. She didn't have to tell him; he knew she hadn't done this much, which is why he'd asked if she'd ever had sex at all, just in case. He was glad she wasn't quite that inexperienced, because it let him take her the way he wanted to—hard, giving no quarter, hips slamming into her unrelentingly, listening to the sounds her body made involuntarily because of his own strength and power, hearing them being slightly distressed at first, but then, eventually changing to moans of unmistakable pleasure.

  Especially when he leaned over her back, easily covering all of her, reaching between legs he kept widely spread with his own to find her exposed, swollen, sensitive, very wet clit. "I won't do this all the time for you, Allyria. I won't always allow you pleasure when I fuck you. Whether or not you come is my decision, not yours."

  At that dominant pronouncement, she began to whimper defiantly, "No!" doing her best to resist and trying to lean her hips away from his fingers, but he easily held her still beneath him.

  "And right now," he said, pin
ching her clit lightly while rubbing his fingertips over it. "I want you to come for me, kitten. I won't stop until you do. Do as you're told, young lady. Come."

  When she did, seconds later, still chanting, "No!" even as she lost that battle to him in a spectacular fashion—she went absolutely wild with it, bucking and arching and writhing. He had to clamp down on her more than he had been before, but he rode her out, never missing a stroke, forcing her to take him throughout that and the next four orgasms he forced her to, leaving off only because his own was impending and he knew he couldn't keep track of hers and his—and he was right.

  It was almost akin to pain—that severe pleasure he felt as he spent himself within her, sperm shooting up inside her, spattering the walls of her cunt with his cum.

  When she was nearly asleep, and so was he, he pulled them up the bed, then tucked the two of them in beneath the covers.

  "Good girl. You took your spanking and your fucking well."

  She was too sleepy to protest too much, but she did huff a bit at his praise.

  "Sleep while you can," he whispered. "Round two in a few minutes."

  Chapter 6

  Three months later, Lucas was behind his desk, supposedly working, but he was having one of the least productive days of his life.

  All he could think about was her and their altogether too brief encounters—from his Galahad impression with the tire and her later upset about the idea that he might spank her—which, granted, he shouldn't have even come close to introducing until he knew her better. It was his bad, all the way.

  To her trying to change herself—for what reason he had no clue—he would never have asked her to do that for him. He was endlessly intrigued with her as she was—and drunk texting him from a bar—something which he would never have expected of her, not that he was objecting, of course. And he was certainly glad that it was him she'd contacted and not someone else—some other man.

  He didn't think he'd be able to handle that idea very well at all. Sometimes being obsessed by an anal retentive, workaholic nerd-type had its advantages. He couldn't see her wandering much—she hadn't had a relationship with a man of any type other than adversarial or work related in a very long time, for which he was eternally grateful.