Page 36 of Protecting Lanie

She nodded.

He released her hair and pressed on the nape of her neck, bending her over the back of the chaise. Her ass was perfection, firm and round. He ran his hand down her spine from her neck and caressed her ass. Lanie shivered. He wondered if anyone had ever known how to handle her. She might have a bit of the brat in her, but he had no intention of taming her.

Oh, he’d keep her safe and teach her to obey him, but he’d never wanted a perfect sub, but one that would challenge him in such a way that he would have reason to discipline her and then spend hours in bed forgiving her.

He slapped the curve of her ass—once lightly, and a second time with a bit more sting so that she hissed.

Another sharp slap landed across the curve of her ass, and she yelped, but with the next smack her spine softened and sherelaxed. Her body might be softening with the administering of her discipline, but his cock was getting harder with every swat.

“Archer,” she moaned.

"What was that?" he asked, running his palm over the sting.

She sucked in a breath. "Daddy."

"That’s better."

He delivered the next smack with measure; more sound than force, but enough to jolt her hips forward. He followed with another and then another, watching as the flush bloomed over her skin.

By the eighth, she was writhing, and the smell of her arousal filled his nostrils.

By the tenth, she was moaning. He didn’t want her to count; he wanted her focused on the sensation. By accepting his discipline, she was accepting his dominance, and all that came with it. He delivered the last five smacks in a steady rhythm with a modicum of sting. He let his hand linger to hold in the heat and reveled in the feel of her warmed and pinked flesh.

Sweet Lanie—she responded so honestly, with no attempt at subterfuge or guile. He sat on the chase behind her and pulled her into his lap, not giving a damn that her arousal would stain his trousers. That’s what dry cleaners were for.

He laid her head on his shoulder. She shuddered, and whispered, “Oh God, Sir, please.” She tried to get up from his lap, but Archer wasn’t having it. “I’m going to mess up your trousers.”

“A stain I shall wear proudly,” Archer chuckled darkly. "Not God, little one." His fingers trailed between her thighs, finding her already slick labia. "But keep begging, and I might give you what you want."

She whimpered.

"Tell me what you’ve learned," he murmured, teasing her with slow, torturous strokes.

"I—I won’t lie to you again."

He pressed his thumb against her clit, circling just enough to make her gasp. "And?"

Her body trembled beneath his hands. "And I’ll listen," she panted.

"Damn right you will."

Her breath hitched as he slid two fingers inside her, pumping slowly, deliberately, and then pressing down on her clit as he did so. She arched into his touch.

"Please," she whimpered.

Archer grinned. "Please, what, little one?"

"Please let me come."

He chuckled. "Not yet."

He dragged it out, pushing her to the edge again and again, until her body was trembling so hard she could barely breathe.

"Archer, please," she begged. "I can’t...”

"You can."

"Please, Daddy."

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