Page 13 of Dirty Rich Cinderella Story

It feels like a personal confession I shouldn’t welcome, but I do. I’m curious about him. More than I wish I was curious about him. “This kind of play has a place,” he gives me a lift of his lips, a hint of a smile, “it works for many of us who need control, and therefore, fail miserably at drug and alcohol abuses.”

He scoots us to the edge of the chair and then takes a knee in front of me. “We’re both going to want to fuck when it’s over. That means I need to put that condom on now.” He brushes his lips over mine and stands up, leaving me naked, and on the edge of my soon-to-be spanked seat, quite literally. I have a moment when I want to fold my arms across my chest, but I force myself to resist the urge. Tonight is about being daring, unapologetically in charge of my desires, and I don’t feel out of control. I said yes. I made this decision. I want to experience new things, and do so with this man.

Cole reaches into his back pocket and produces his wallet, removing a foil package before tossing the wallet on the coffee table. I grip the cushion on either side of me, aware that my breasts are thrust forward, aware that his eyes rake over them, so aware that my thighs squeeze together while I wait for what comes next, anticipate what comes next.

My gaze lifts to his and what I find is not dominant, alpha attitude, despite the fact that he’s naturally dominant; I don’t find this revelation of a spanking to create a new dynamic between us of dominant and submissive. Instead, he gives me a wink, his lips curving ever so slightly. “Quid pro quo, right, sweetheart? Now you get to watch me undress.”

I’m surprised at how easily I laugh. “A little late,” I say, “but yes.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises, making fast work of his button and zipper before sliding his pants and his underwear down in one long motion.

Then he’s all mine to view, long, lean muscle, and rippling abs, and then, of course, there is his impressive erection jutting forward between us. My gaze jerks from it to him and he arches a brow. “Do I get your approval?” he asks.

“I’m still deciding,” I reply, surprised again, at how easily I tease him, how at ease I am while naked with a stranger who’s about to spank me. “I’ll put the condom on for you and let you know after I’m done.”

“Oh no, sweetheart,” he says, tearing open the package and dropping it on the floor. “I’m willing to admit my weaknesses, and your hand on my cock will be one of them. You touch me like that, and I’ll forget the spanking and fuck you now.” He rolls on the condom into place and in an instant, he’s pulled me to my feet, his hands tangled in my hair in that erotic, rough way he does, and I like it. I like it so much that I am instantly weak in the knees.

“Have you changed your mind?” he asks, his hand cupping my backside, his erection at my hip.

“No,” I say, tangling my fingers in the dark wisp of hair on his chest, and no less gently than he holds my own hair. “I have not changed my mind.”

“Good,” he says. “Then here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to kiss you and when I’m done, I’m going to sit down on the chair. You’re going to sit down next to me on your knees, facing my lap.”

“Can we stop talking now please?” I demand. “Can we just—”

He kisses me, his tongue licking into my mouth, and it’s like something wild is unleashed in me. I want him. I want him now, and I press into him, hold onto him, touch him. I don’t even remember the moment he sits down and drags me with him. Or how my knees settle against his thigh. Because he’s still kissing me, and his hand is on my breast, and mine is on his thigh. But then his lips part mine and his teeth scrape my lip and he says, “You’re going to lay down across my lap, sweetheart.”

“I am?” I ask, and then quickly amend with, “I am.” And with those words I can feel the adrenaline coursing through me, the high, the rush. The fear that is a bit like being on a rollercoaster, a moment before the plunge. I hate rollercoasters, but I don’t hate this.

“And then,” he continues. “I’m going to take my time. I’m going to make sure you’re ready to come, on the edge of orgasm, to the point you almost forget the spanking. And that’s when it’s going to happen.”

He presses his cheek to mine. “Three times. I’ll warn and then it will happen, with no pause in between. Count with me and you’ll know what to expect. Understand, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. He keeps calling me that and I like it too much. “Yes.” I say.

He pulls back and studies me, as if he needs to confirm I’m really in this all the way. He must see what I feel that I am, that I can’t turn away from this, and don’t want to turn away, because he kisses me again. And then he strokes my cheek, with tenderness that defies what he’s about to do. “Now,” he orders softly.

Now.

Now.

Now.

The word radiates through me.

Now. He’s going to spank me now and I wait for panic to overwhelm me, but it doesn’t come. Yes, I’m nervous. Yes, I’m even a little scared but I’m tingling all over, warm, aroused. More aroused than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I lower myself across his lap.

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