Page 31 of Number 10 Affair

I wanted to respond with something powerful and clever, but then he spanked me.

I yelped in surprise, releasing a soft moan as his large palm landed on my buttock. This wasn’t a light or playful smack, but hard and painful. The searing pain left me breathless. He repeated the action at least five more times, and I groaned through clenched teeth.

My tights were also soaked through now. Done with his punishment, he righted my dress and spun me around once again, so I was facing him. My back hit the wall, and his blue eyes devoured me. Arousal consumed me, but also rage.

“Next time you decide to disrespect my image with this outfit and hang up on me, I'll make you choke on my cock,” he whispered, his eyes darting down to the impressive cleavage on display.

I had little to show off, but Veronica had loaned me a push-up bra, so my boobs appeared pretty huge with it. Although my desire had reached epic proportions, I couldn’t stop myself from talking.

“I fucking hate you.” I wanted to escape his grasp so badly, but his grip on my wrists remained steadfast; he held them above my head.

Our eyes locked, and he was so close that his heady cologne assailed my nostrils.

“Let’s see how much you hate me, woman,” he growled, then slipped his hand underneath my dress, running his finger over my sopping-wet tights and thong.

I had to shut my eyes tight and bite on my lower lip, stifling any noise that wanted to escape, refusing to let go of a desperate moan. Moving his hand up and sliding it inside my tights, he pushed aside the fabric of my thong and inserted one of his digits into my slit, tormenting me to the point of delirium.

“Your pussy is made for me, and you’re drenched, which only tells me you must have enjoyed being spanked. You’re such a naughty girl, Laura.”

“Fuck you.” I panted.

He kept running his fingers around my clit, delicately and slowly. Barely touching it. He only had to stroke me a few more times before I would break apart. It was pure possession, and with a single touch, he enslaved my body.

I ached for an orgasm so badly, but I refused to beg him for it. His pupils were dilated as he studied me with that infuriating smirk. He knew exactly what torment he was inflicting on me. Before I could form an insult or take a breath, his tongue swept across my lips, then eased inside, plundering, exploring my mouth and forcing out a desperate moan.

“All you need to do is ask politely and I’ll make you come so hard you won’t remember your name tonight,” he said.

But I shook my head. This dickhead thought I’d beg him for pleasure? He was in for a rude awakening.

He withdrew his hand and stepped away then. I stared at him in confusion.

“What the hell are you doing?” I gasped, wired up and trembling, ready to finish myself off.

My legs felt weak, and my head was pounding.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

I opened and closed my mouth, too worked up and angry to express myself at that moment. I wanted him so much, but I couldn’t bring myself to beg.

But my body was a traitor. Finally, I looked into his eyes—hating myself for it—desperation reaching new heights.

“Touch me, Spencer, make me come. I need your fingers inside me.”

He was on me in a heartbeat, digging his left hand into my hip while the other dived underneath my tights once again. In one swift movement, he ripped my thong off and tossed it on the ground.

“Fucking exquisite,” he murmured, then went back in and shoved two fingers inside me with ease, looking directly into my eyes and finger-fucking me.

This man was a god, and I was at his mercy. I parted my legs and revelled in the feel of his fingers inside me. So close … desperate for release.

“Spencer,” I gasped.

He gently caressed my clit.

Intense pleasure rolled through me, and I let out a loud scream, climaxing, my head hitting the wall behind me. Then I grabbed his head with one hand and held him close. I shuddered from the incredible orgasm. The fire inside me erupted like a volcano while his fingers kept working their magic. We moaned together in wild bliss.

When he finally pulled away, I was utterly spent. My hips were still trembling, my legs quivering, and my breath came in ragged gasps. I caught sight of the visible bulge in his pants; he had not been able to come himself yet. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but finally, I’d got what I had craved for weeks.

I refused to make eye contact with him as he picked up my torn thong and tucked it into his pocket.

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