Page 89 of The Wolf in My Tavern

“I am sorry I slapped you,” I say as he comes to an abrupt stop.

Then I tumble as he drops me unceremoniously onto the bed. I cling to my fur covering as I push my hair from my face and glare at him. “You will not spank me.”

He grins. It is a little sinister… and a little wolfish, and it makes my pussy flutter with interest. From the moment he entered the tavern, I have been drawn to him in ways I cannot explain. Yet now, as I stare up at this magnificent male, I realize what I feel toward him is far more complex than mere infatuation.

“This is for your own good,” he says, his voice a low purr.

“I do not believe you,” I mutter, but he is already taking my arm, sitting, and tossing me over his muscular thighs.

The fur I cling to is ripped away. It lands with a soft whoosh several paces away.

“You do not cover your body from me.” He cups my ass, making me squirm a little. “This ass is mine. Mine to look at. Mine to touch. Mine to punish if you behave like a brat.”

Spank!

The sound shocks me more than being painful. It is more of a light sting.

“You cannot punish me when I said I was sorry,” I protest. “This is also bollocks!”

Did I just hear him chuckle?

Spank!

“You have a filthy fucking mouth... And I couldn’t give a fuck that you slapped me, wench. Slap me, bite me, rake your nails over me as you see fit. I will wear your marks of claiming with pride.”

Spank!

“That is not a claiming mark!”

Spank!

“You know nothing of wolves. We prefer our wenches feisty and like nothing more than a tussle when it comes to matters of claiming and rutting.”

Spank!

“But I have told you Callum is unharmed, and you refused to see reason.”

Spank! Spank! Spank!

I am still pondering the word tussle and how it lights a spark inside me. I kick out and receive a series of sharp, fast spanks to my upper thighs that I do not like one bit.

“You are a savage!”

He chuckles and pauses to cup my ass. It is no longer merely stinging. It is like the stings have merged to produce heat and one giant sensation that is definitely not pleasant.

I fidget.

His fingers slide down, finding the wetness that gathers, and I go perfectly still as pleasure blooms.

He makes a tutting noise. “You are a naughty wench.” He thrusts a finger inside—I gasp at the jolt as all the little nerves inside flutter and quake. “A naughty, filthy little girl who very much enjoyed her discipline and, further, is already thinking about my dick.” He adds a second finger and begins to thrust them wetly in and out. The debauched noises bring heat to my cheeks. “Thinking about how it will stretch this drenched pussy and might even hurt a little, for you are all sore and swollen from my constant rutting.”

Goddess help me. I am about to come…

He stops.

“What? Oh, please don’t stop!”

He spanks my ass sharply.

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