Page 41 of Bid For Me

“You think you can resist me?” His voice dips, taunting. “You think you can pretend you don’t want this?”

His hands slide higher, cupping my breasts, and I let out a strangled sound despite myself. His thumbs sweep over my nipples, the sensation sharp and unbearably sweet.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the curve of my shoulder. “Let me hear you, Elle.”

I bite down hard on my lip, refusing to give in entirely, but my resolve is crumbling. The friction of his thumbs grows firmer, still teasing but persistent now, and a soft whimper escapes before I can stop it.

He chuckles darkly. “So sensitive. So desperate already.”

Before I can gather a retort, he steps back, and my body jerks at the sudden loss of heat. Of him. I have to hold back a whine of protest.

Instead, I turn slightly, confused and bereft, but the look in his eyes stops me cold.

“Hands on the bed,” he orders, his voice firm but calm, leaving no room for argument.

My legs wobble, but I obey, trance-like, crossing to the edge of the bed and placing my palms flat on the sheets. He moves behind me, and the sound of his belt sliding through his jeans makes my heart pound.

Will he…?

“You need reminding who you belong to,” he says, the rasp of his voice the only giveaway that he might be as affected by me as I am by him. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

The leather strap doesn’t make contact. A shot of disappointment storms through me. But then his hand does. The first smack, sharp and stinging against the curve of my ass. A gasp bursts from my lips, and I push up slightly asking for more, only for him to press a hand between my shoulder blades, pinning me in place.

“Stay still,” he commands and I have to squeeze my tongue between my teeth to keep from whimpering and begging for more.

The next slap comes harder, and I flinch, the sting morphing into heat that spreads through my body. Exactly what I need.

He alternates between soft caresses and sharp strikes, keeping me on edge, never letting me predict his next move. My thighs squeeze together involuntarily, the friction not nearly enough to satisfy the ache building inside me.

“Look at you,” he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Already dripping, showing through your panties, and I’ve barely touched you.”

Bastard.

Smug, sexy bastard.

Why does he have to be right? Why does it have to be him who makes my body light up like a Christmas parade?

He ranks my panties down my legs, leaving me bare before him, and the cool air only heightens the heat of his attention.

If he likes what he sees, I’ll never know, because he does nothing to give himself away.

Stay strong, Elle. Be brave.

“On the bed,” he orders. “On your back.”

I hesitate for a moment, pride battling desire, but his eyes meet mine, dark and unyielding, and I comply, stretching out on the mattress.

This is so much worse somehow. Because now I’m stretched out on the bed, and there’s no hiding from him. Not that I could before, but at least it was my body betraying me before, not my face.

I’m scared that like this, he’ll see everything.

He takes his time, his gaze roaming over me like a physical caress, before he climbs onto the bed, settling between my thighs.

“Lie flat,” he barks when I prop myself up on my elbows. Again, I pause a beat, silently challenging him, before submitting and staring up at the canopy above us.

Is it purely decorative? Made of decadent plush red velvet. Or does it serve a purpose, like muffling cries of pleasure?

The first swipe of his tongue is a jolt of electricity, and I arch against him, a strangled cry escaping my lips, all musings forgotten.

---