Page 54 of A Lethal Game of Trust
“What?” I asked, folding my arms to stroke them.
He stood, closed the taxi door and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “I was just looking at you.”
“I don’t—”
“You look good enough to eat, little lion,” he purred in my ear. “I’m just glad that it’s me you left with. Me in your bed tonight.”
Hopefully, not just my bed.
We walked across the car park and I fished out my keys in my bag, using the fob to get us in the building. Issy and I lived on the fourth floor, but these shoes made the stairs impossible.
Our security guard in the lobby already had the lift waiting for us and Dom ushered me in with a tap on my ass. “Keep your door key in your hand.”
I held it between my finger and thumb. And as the lift door dinged and closed, he was on me. Both hands on my jaw, he pulled me to him before pressing me into the mirror. Hiserection pressed up against my stomach and I reached for it through his jeans. It only lasted thirty seconds before we were on our floor, leaving me blinking and breathless.
“You got that key?”
There were seconds between his question and my answer. “Y—yeah.”
Even as I put the key in the lock, he stood behind me, his fingertips dragging up my arm, his lips pressed into my shoulder.
“This fucking dress, Leo,” he breathed. “This bloody dress. I want you naked, I want you in it. Around you, all I do is want.”
Finally, I stopped fumbling with the key and the door opened.
If I thought he might be gracious enough for me to take off my shoes or turn the light on, I was very wrong.
He kicked the door closed behind us and, in the moonlight that cast through the window, he looked down at me as if I were prey.
His muscular body walked me back towards the wall, and not taking his eyes from mine, he pressed in the keycode for our beeping security system above my head.
“How’d you—”
“I installed this, remember?” he said, bending to speak in my ear as he lifted my dress up to my waist. Skin-tight, it stayed there as he kneaded my ass cheeks. “How long were you with that guy at the bar?”
“Half—half an hour, I think?”
“So a spanking for every five minutes is your punishment,” he said, his grip tightening. “So that’s six times I’m going to slap your ass.”
“You’ll have me acting up on purpose,” I mumbled, feeling the hard length of him through his jeans again.
“If you enjoy it too much, maybe I’ll flog you.”
My rubbing against him picked up. I’d been spanked before, but never with something.
He unzipped my dress in one quick movement, then pulled it down my hips. When it fell to the floor, he offered a hand to help me step out of it.
“What a gentleman,” I said and started on the buttons of his shirt.
“You won’t be saying that in a minute,” he said and, three buttons down, he stopped me, instead pulling the shirt over his head.
I wasted no time, starting with his belt. He could flog me with this. Yes, actually. That was exactly what I needed.
“Gonna put you over my knee,” he promised, ravaging a breast, squeezing it as hard as he had my ass. “I want to pound an imprint of my cock in your pussy. No one will ever fill you like I do.”
My nod was so enthusiastic, my head tipsy, the room spun. I needed him to ground me, hold me and do exactly as he’d just fucking said.
I shoved at his jeans, trying to pull them down as he brushed the lace of my knickers with a finger.
