Page 52 of His Naughty Girl

As the afterglow of our lovemaking began to fade, I found myself growing shy again in Dylan’s arms. The enormity of everything that had happened—my punishment, my first defloration and then my second, forbidden one—crashed over me anew. I burrowed deeper into Dylan’s embrace, seeking comfort and reassurance.

Dylan seemed to sense my need. His arms tightened around me, one hand stroking soothing circles on my back. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

We lay like that for a long while, our breathing low and even. Already familiar scents of my bedroom—the lavender sachetGreta had put in my dresser drawer and the faint smell of furniture polish—mixed with the naughty, musky aroma of sex.

I found my thoughts drifting to happier, simpler times. Things I might be able to share with my accepted suitor. The image of Gene Kelly splashing through puddles, singing at the top of his lungs, floated through my mind.

Before I could second-guess myself, I tilted my head to look up at Dylan. “Um, sir?” I asked hesitantly.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Dylan’s voice was warm and encouraging.

I bit my lip, suddenly feeling foolish. But Dylan’s gentle smile gave me the courage to continue. “I was wondering… would you maybe want to watchSingin’ in the Rainwith me?”

Dylan’s chuckle rumbled into my upper body. “I’d love to, Andrea. You can tell me how basic the best song is.”

I giggled, squirming against him as if trying to get out of his arms. To my astonishment, even after everything he had done, a wayward spark of arousal shot from my sore butt straight to my pussy. “I already told you you’re right,” I protested. “But… you know… I want you to appreciate ‘Good Morning’ too!”

Dylan chuckled again. He turned me around and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Sure, sweetheart. I’m here for that.”

He gave me one last squeeze, and then he sat up. “Why don’t I go clean up a bit, and then we can start the movie?”

I nodded eagerly, already reaching for the remote control on my nightstand. As Dylan disappeared into the bathroom, I pulled up the movie on the streaming service, then snuggled back into the pillows to wait.

A few minutes later, Dylan emerged, looking refreshed. He slipped into bed beside me, pulling me close against his side. I pressed play, and the familiar strains of the overture filled the room.

As we watched, I found myself relaxing more and more. Dylan’s warmth beside me, the comfort of the familiar story unfolding on screen—it all combined to create a cocoon of contentment around us. Every so often, Dylan laughed at a joke, or exclaimed at a favorite moment, and the spark of renewed need I had felt began to build into something even warmer.

By the time Don Lockwood danced through the rain-soaked streets, I could feel the familiar heat building and building, low in my belly. The urge to put my hand there made me tighten my fingers into a fist. My brow furrowed as I remembered how I had gotten into all this… well, trouble didn’t seem like the right word, but I had gotten my butt whipped, hadn’t I? And here I was in bed next to the man who had caused the problem, both of us naked. Would a good girl…

Would a good girl ask for it?

Trembling a little, I turned away from the screen to look at Dylan’s gorgeous face, his gaze fixed on the movie. As I watched his strong profile, illuminated by the flickering light of the screen, I felt the ache between my thighs grow even stronger. The warmth of his body next to mine, the memory of his touch, the way he had claimed me so thoroughly—it all combined to stoke the embers of desire to a raging bonfire.

I squirmed slightly, trying to ease the building tension. My bottom still throbbed from its harsh lesson, but even that discomfort seemed to fuel my arousal. I bit my lip, torn between my growing need and my fear of overstepping.

Finally, unable to contain myself any longer, I whispered, “D-Dylan? Sir?”

He turned to me, his hazel eyes warm with affection. “Yes, sweetheart?”

I felt my face flame as I struggled to voice my desire. “I… I was wondering… um…” I trailed off, suddenly overwhelmed by shyness.

Dylan’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “What is it, Andrea? Tell me what you need.”

His gentle encouragement gave me the courage to continue. “I… I was hoping… maybe… we could… you know…” I gestured vaguely, my cheeks burning hotter by the second.

Dylan’s smile widened. “Are you asking me to fuck you again, sweetheart?”

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze.

Dylan considered for a moment, his eyes roaming over my flushed face and trembling form. “Well,” he said slowly. “I suppose I could be persuaded. But you’ll have to earn it.”

My heart raced at his words. “H-how, sir?”

“If you’re a good girl and suck my cock while I finish the movie, I’ll fuck you again when it’s over. How does that sound?”

A mixture of embarrassment and excitement coursed through me at his crude suggestion. Part of me wanted to hide my face in shame, but a larger part thrilled at the idea of pleasuring him, of proving my submission.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

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