Page 10 of Donovan Blake: Adrenalin

“Phoebe…” he said softly, “you’re beautiful, but you’re also difficult.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, butterflies in her stomach suddenly fluttering to life.

“You’ve got a gorgeous ass,” he continued, not answering her question but sliding his arm down her back and gripping her left cheek, “and it needs to be spanked. You, Phoebe, need to be spanked.”

She caught her breath.

How did he know her secret?

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he growled, clutching her hair and tugging her head back.

“I…uh…n-no,” she stammered, every nerve in her body sparking.

She thought she’d come to the aid of a well-heeled businessman, but Donovan was a herculean tough guy? His lips suddenly fell on hers, and as he thrust his hand between her legs she knew there was no turning back.

* * *

Even through the chaos the night before Donovan had seen the frustration and hunger in her eyes.

She was a strong woman.

A smart woman.

An independent woman.

A woman who needed more than kind words and a gentle touch.

She’d been waiting for a man like him her whole life.

A man who wouldn’t put up with her bullshit.

A man who would make her whimper with need.

A man who would ravage her until she was breathless.

Releasing her hair, he straightened up and flipped her over.

“Rest on your elbows,” he ordered, grabbing her hips and jerking them up.

Her ass was gorgeous, full and round, begging to be slapped. He landed the first smack, then quickly delivered the second to her opposite cheek. As he watched his hand print flower to life, he delivered two more on each side eliciting a squeal.

“If you don’t want this tell me,” he ordered, smacking her again, then thrusting his finger against her clit, he added. “Be straight with me. It’s okay if you want to bail. There are no strings. You can still stay here until it’s safe to go back.”

“I…uh…” she mumbled, then let out a long moan.

“It’s a simple question. Yes or no.”

“Yes, I do, I want it so much.”

With his lips curling in a wicked smile, he leaned past her and lifted a condom from the nightstand drawer. Deftly sheathing his thick shaft, he placed himself at her entrance and prodded. She was tight, and he slowly pushed into her slick warmth. But he stayed buried, luxuriating in the moment. Finally pulling back, he was about to thrust when she moved her hand against her sex.

“Next time ask,” he ordered gruffly and slapping her again. “Understood?”

“Yes, yes, sorry.”

“And if you’re going to rub yourself, make it count.”

She muttered something he couldn’t understand, but he didn’t care. Relishing the luscious feel of her tight, soaked passage, he stroked for several, long minutes, savoring her gasps and utterances of pleasure. But his rabid hunger for release began to take hold. Clasping her waist, he quickened his pace.

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