Page 52 of Snow Bound

He wasn’t disappointed.

“Punishment?” she howled. “For what? I’m naked, aren’t I?”

“You are.” He turned into the bedroom. “But I distinctly recall asking for pancakes this morning.”

“Oatmeal is good for you,” she said righteously, then spoiled it with a snorting laugh.

“It tasted like wallpaper paste,” he said baldly and she burst out laughing.

She was still laughing when he set her on her feet next to the bed, her brown eyes dancing through a curtain of tousled, flame colored hair. “You actually ate it?”

He dropped the bag on the foot of the bed. “Didn’t you?”

“No.” She had her hands pressed against her mouth to muffle her giggles. “I had lemon crepes.”

“You had crepes while I ate that cement mix masquerading as food?” His scowl was only partially an act. “So many bad girl points.”

She smirked, and her stance was all defiant confidence—shoulders back, head up, breasts proudly thrust forward. Her legs were braced slightly apart, her fingers tapping impatiently on her hips, head cocked as if to say, ‘whatcha gonna do about it, big boy?’. But she was chewing on her bottom lip, something he’d noticed she did when she was thinking or feeling uncertain, and vulnerability lurked in the velvety depths of her eyes.

Her hair draped over her shoulders, just long enough to cover the tops of her breasts. The bright, flame colored ends curled to a stop just shy of her nipples. Her breasts were soft and bottom-heavy, her nipples pretty little puffs of pinkish-brown that he couldn’t wait to clamp.

She’d issued a challenge this morning, and he intended to meet it.

He let his gaze drift down to her hips, the sweet curve of her belly, firm thighs that he’d turn red before he was through. Her legs flexed under his regard, and he suppressed a smile.

Nervous, and like any prey, trying not to show it.

He looked at her face again, delighted to find her flushed. He twirled a finger in the air. “Turn.”

Her chin came up, eyes narrowed. “I’m not some little doll you can direct.”

“You are right now,” he countered and quick as a snake, delivered a stinging smack to one thigh. She squawked in pain and outrage, but lust bloomed in her eyes. He watched her struggle to put the scowl back on her face.

Deciding not to give her the chance, he smacked the other thigh. “Now, sugar, or you’re going to be black and blue before we even get started.”

She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything, he surmised from the heat and longing in those fathomless eyes. But she still managed to curl her lip at him before she dutifully turned.

“Mmm.” He let appreciation warm his voice, soften his hands as he stroked them down her back, over the ripe curves of her ass. “I love this bubble butt.”

She made a choked sound but didn’t turn. “What’d you call my ass?”

“Bubble butt,” he said bluntly and danced his fingers over it. His hands were rough, her skin soft, and he knew the friction, though light, would be keenly felt.

He grinned when she shivered.

He stepped closer, letting his body heat warm her, and brought his mouth to her ear. “I’m gonna fuck this bubble butt before I’m done with you.”

Her muscles were tense in anticipation, her breathing rough. Her hips rolled, ever so slightly, and her ass brushed against the front of his jeans. He heard her swallow, and knew she’d felt the hard ridge of his erection though the denim.

“Oh, really?” she breathed and rolled her hips again. She pressed hard against him this time, the lush curve of her ass cushioning his hard cock. He had to clench his jaw to hold back the moan.

“But first things first. You’ve earned a punishment, haven’t you?”

“You don’t really want to punish me,” she said, a cajoling lilt to her voice, and reached back to grab his thighs. She curled her nails into him to tug him closer, pressing against his erection. “Not when there are so many other things we could do.”

He grinned into her hair. She was good, but he’d been a Dom a long time. He had a responsibility to keep his play partners safe, and that often meant foregoing sex altogether during a scene. His dick was used to playing second fiddle.

He let her grind into him for a moment, enjoying the sweet friction, then slipped a hand gently into her hair. Her sigh of pleasure turned into a cry of surprise when he twisted his hand and yanked her head back to look her in the face.

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