Page 34 of Kingmakers, Year Three

I need to cum. I have to. I might die if I don’t.

Dean is already carrying me over to his bed.

I have one wild moment of hope that we’re going to lay down so he can keep kissing and touching me, but instead he sits on the edge of the bed, yanking me down across his knees.

I don’t understand what he’s doing.

I try to stand up, but he shoves my head down with his left hand. With his right, he pulls my skirt up around my waist and rips my panties down around my knees.

“I HATE getting dirty,” he growls. “You embarrassed me, Cat. You made me angry.”

He brings one large, hard hand crashing down on my bare ass cheek.

SMACK!

I shriek.

“Ow, fuck! What the hell!”

SMACK!

He spanks me again, on the other cheek.

“Ow, Dean, don’t you fucking dare!”

SMACK!

“I told you not to call me that.”

SMACK!

“OW!” I howl, trying to squirm away.

SMACK!

SMACK!

“You need to learn to behave,” Dean says.

For a moment his hand rests on my throbbing asscheek. His palm is warm. As he squeezes my buttocks, the gentle pressure soothes my stung flesh.

He massages my ass, then lets his hand slide down between my legs so he can stroke his fingers against my pussy again.

“We don’t have to fight, little kitten,” he says. His voice is smoother than melted butter. “If you’re an obedient pet, I could be a very kind master . . .”

His words fill me with rage. I’m not a kitten, and I’m sure as fuck not his pet.

But his fingers against my clit are a shot of dopamine direct to the brain. They make my whole body flop limp across his lap, like I really am a little kitten being scratched behind the ears. His touch makes me weak. It makes me squirm against him, begging for more pressure, more penetration . . .

“Please . . .” I murmur.

“Is this what you want?” Dean slips one finger inside me.

“Yes . . .” I groan.

“Then promise. Promise to do whatever I say.”

I bite my lip, outraged at his demands. Outraged at how he’s treating me.

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