Page 9 of CurVy Baby

“It is the company’s hotel.”

This man is too much, rich in every sense of the word—rich with danger, power, and money.

“If I have to ask you one more time there will be consequences for you.”

“What consequences?”

His stare penetrates me, somehow taking hold of my defiant legs and buckling them. My knees give out, and immediately I feel more vulnerable. If I crawl… my boobs will hang, and so will my belly… I can’t. The thought has me wrapping my arms around my breasts, my mind totally defeating my confidence.

He stands, and I gasp, ready to climb to my feet, but not before he strides over and scoops me into his arms to show me he can. He can lift me—with ease. He adjusts me in his grip, my naked curves crushed to his expensive suit. I almost feel bad… What is wrong with me! A man like this can have anyone. Supermodels. Perfect hourglasses. Perfect… twigs, with perky tits?—

Before my mind can continue, I realise he has sat back down on the sofa with me on his lap, my back to his torso.

God, he smells good. Musky. Woody. Cologne dipped in… I don’t know, something expensive and rare.

Unicorn jizz, or something.

I’m losing it.

I giggle in his arms, shocked, heart racing, nerves rattling me, but then his hot breath hits my neck.

“Spread your legs on Daddy’s lap so I can show you the consequences of your defiance, Baby Girl.”

My nervous laughter only continues.What the hell?“Don’t I get a spanking? Isn’t that what I get?”

He palms my upper thigh, a motion that demands I spread them. I do. Heat hits my ears, and I start to pant.

And then he cups my pussy.

Cradling it, he kneads his palm into the flesh, spreading all my moisture around my folds.

Fuck me. I lift off his lap, chasing the pressure, but at the same time, he slaps my swelling core. Hard!

I cry out and then moan.

“That was for your defiance.” His voice drops deeper with authority and warning. “I want you to know I do not enjoy punishing you, Baby Girl.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

My back presses into his torso harder.

He slaps my wet folds again, cupping, kneading, and then spanking. Cup. Knead. Spank. Jolting pleasure and pain through me, disarming my fight or flight, confusing me, he disciplines me with slaps to my pussy until I can no longer stand the sting or pleasure or?—

A moan and cry fills my throat.

He stops and soothes, his palm making circles, and I come on his hand without a second more of build-up, relief flooding my core, my pussy weeping on his palm, my hips rocking against the cradle of his hand.

His heated breath, mint and coffee, rushes through my hair. “And those were for your self-depreciation. Daddy will decide if you’re sexy or not.” He slaps my pussy once more—a wet, sloppy smack—as my orgasm rushes from me. Embarrassment rises through my entire being.

I bite my lower lip to not respond.

“That’s my good girl,” he approves. “Enjoy my attention. Do not question it.”

I open my eyes just as he lifts his hand, bringing it back behind me, where I hear him licking his palm—the one that slapped my wet folds.

Jesus Christ.

Andfuck me.

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