Page 124 of The Games We Play
“Good girl,” I murmured, my voice thick as I approached her from behind.
My first order of business: get those damn panties off.
Looping the belt over my neck to free my hands, I slid my thumbs into the waistband and dragged them down her legs, slow and purposeful. When they pooled at her feet, I picked them up and tucked them into my back pocket.
For safekeeping, of course.
I dropped a trail of soft kisses along the curve of her backside. Her skin trembled under my mouth, goosebumps forming beneath each press of my lips. I knew her ass wouldn’t be thanking me after what I had planned.
Straightening, I slid the belt from around my neck and wrapped it loosely in my hands.
“Now, Pen,” I said, letting her name roll off my tongue like a promise. “There are rules.”
She hummed in acknowledgment, already breathless.
“One, you don’t move. If you sit up or try to stop me, there will be punishment.” I ran my palm over the curve of her ass, circling gently, admiring the view. “Two, I want to hear you. Loud. No one else is here, I need you to scream for me.”
“And if I don’t?” she asked, her voice laced with that signature Penny sass.
I smirked. “You’re a smart girl.”
I grabbed her ass, watching the way it bounced beneath my hand, and let out a quiet growl of approval. “Three, if it’s too much, you use our word. Do you remember it?”
Penny laughed, bold and unbothered. “Mercy.”
“Good girl,” I said, tracing the belt slowly along the dip of her lower back. “Stopwon’t work tonight. If you want mercy, you’ll have to beg for it.”
She was mine now—bent, waiting—and I planned to give her everything she didn’t even know she craved.
I let the belt slide from my hand and rest it gently on her back in a warning, a promise, a weight she could feel.
“Count for me,” I said, stepping in closer, my hand already twitching with anticipation.
She didn’t look back. Just gave the smallest nod, bracing her forearms against the bed, her back arched beautifully.
I brought the belt down—firm, sharp, not cruel. The sound cracked through the room, followed by a soft gasp.
“One,” she breathed.
I bit back a groan. Her voice, her body, and everything about her begged me to lose control. But not yet. I was going to make this last.
Another strike. Her skin warmed and bloomed with color.
“Two.”
Each number made my blood roar louder in my ears. She was unraveling in front of me bit by bit, and I was the only one allowed to see her like this.
I gave her two more. I reached my hand down, soothing between each, letting her feel the contrast—pleasure, pain, worship.
“Three… four.”
She was squirming now, her thighs pressing together, trying to relieve the pressure building between them.
“Pen,” I warned, voice low.
“Sorry,” she whispered, her hips stilling.
I smirked and gave her the fifth, just a little harder.
