Page 27 of Snow Bound

She stepped forward, her thighs rubbing slickly together. She tried to move slow, wanting to look sexy—and to minimize bounce and jiggle—but he ruined her plan for a slow, sexy walk when he grabbed her hand and yanked her forward.

“I said, come here,” he growled and, using her momentum, slung her face down over his thighs.

She blinked at the floor through the curtain of her hair. Her boobs were hanging down, all but smacking her in the face, and her butt was so high in the air her feet were off the floor. She tried to push herself up, but he put an end to that quick enough.

“Stay still,” he ordered and slapped her ass.

She’d known it was coming—what else was she doing face down over his lap?—but the bright sting was still a shock. Her legs bucked, an instinctive response to the pain, and he slapped her again.

“I said, stay still.” His hand rested on her butt, a hot, heavy threat. “You’ve been a bad girl, Anna.”

She dug for a snarky, snappy comeback, but all she could come up with was, “Nuh-uh.”

“Yes, you have,” he said with a muffled snort of laughter. “And you’re getting spanked for it.”

“But I don’t want you to spank me,” she protested and proved herself a liar by pushing her butt up into his hand.

“Too bad,” he said cheerfully, and that was all the warning she had before his hand cracked down.

Somehow she’d assumed he’d start out slow, keep it light before building up to the big guns. He did not. He peppered her butt with blows, giving her no time to process one smack before the next was landing, layering sting upon sting, pain upon pain. It was big, much bigger than she’d expected, but along with the hurt came a deep, spreading heat.

And all the time he was spanking her, he was talking.

“Bad girl, taunting me.” Spank. “Parading around in that see-through t-shirt.” Spank. “Letting me fuck you on my mother’s kitchen counter, for Christ’s sake.”

“You were there too,” she reminded him, trying to sound righteously indignant instead of desperately aroused.

“Shut up.” He landed a trio of blows on the tender underside of her buttocks that had her literally seeing stars. “You quit Odyssey. You disappeared. Bad, bad girl.”

If this is what being bad got her, she didn’t want to be good.

The heat was unreal, the need overwhelming, and every slap of his hand on her tender skin drove it higher. Her pussy was slick and swollen, her dangling breasts aching. There was a tension building in her belly, heavy and familiar, and she wondered wildly if she could actually come from being spanked.

Then his fingers delved between her slick thighs and straight into her cunt.

“Well, well,” he murmured over her strangled cry. “What’s this?”

She hoped he didn’t actually expect her to answer that.

“This is a very wet pussy,” he went on, pumping into her with two fingers. They squelched audibly, bringing a rush of heat and embarrassment—which brought more heat. “Did your spanking turn you on, Anna?”

“Duh,” she said before she could stop herself.

He yanked his fingers free and slapped her ass. The wetness intensified the sting, and her pussy fluttered warningly.

“When I ask you a question, I expect a respectful answer,” he said sternly over the rushing in her ears

“Yes,” she choked out. Please, please, put your fingers back in my pussy.

Smack. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir?”

Smack. “Try again.”

Shit, what’s the right answer? She fought to think through the fog of lust. “Yes, Sir, the spanking made my pussy wet.”

“There we go.” He shifted, pulling her to her feet. “See? You can be good after all.”

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