Page 37 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
She nods.
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes,” she whispers. “Please.”
I flip the lock on the office door. Then I press her hands to the desk. Firm. Flat.
“Don’t move.”
She doesn’t.
I roll up my sleeves, letting her hear the whisper of fabric, the little click of my watch being unfastened. Her breath catches.
“You know what I’m going to do to you?”
She nods.
“Youwantme to?”
Another nod. Still not good enough.
“Use your words, Bailey.”
“Yes. I want you to take it. All of it.”
God help me. I push her gently until she’s bent over the desk, arms braced, knees pressed together. Then I reach under her skirt and tear her panties clean down her thighs. She gasps, but doesn’t fight it.
“You say when it’s too much,” I murmur. “Color system.”
“Green,” she pants. “God,green.”
“Good.”
I run a hand over the curve of her magnificent, round ass. “Then let’s see what youreallyneed.”
Bailey’s bent over the desk like she was made for it—palms flat, back arched, skirt hiked up around her waist. Her breath is quick. Waiting. Needing.
“Still green?” I ask, one hand trailing lightly over the curve of her bare ass. So soft.
“Green,” she breathes. “So green.”
“Good girl.”
She shivers. That gets me. There’s power in restraint, sure. But there’sjoyin obedience—the kind that comes from choosing surrender. From handing someone your control like a gift. I take it. And I start slow.
A single sharp smack across her ass, my palm ringing against her skin.
She gasps, jolts slightly, but doesn’t move from position.
Another strike. Then another. Alternating sides, firm and even. Not punishing—just a rhythm to pull her out of her head and into her body.
She moans, low and wrecked.
“That what you needed, baby?”
“Yes,” she pants.
I lean down, press my mouth to her ear. “You’ve been so good. So strong. Let me carry it for a while.”
