Page 70 of Double Down
“Do you know what happens to bad girls?” I ask.
She reaches between us, palms my cock through my pants, and runs her tongue along her upper lip. “I have some ideas.”
We hold in that stretched moment—me pinning her, her gaze locked on mine. It’s the pause before the strike, the inhale before lightning. I want her to feel the inevitability, to know she invited it.
I lean to her ear. “You’d be wrong. Now get on your motherfucking knees before you force me to break you.”
A low whimper comes from the back of her throat, but she lowers herself slowly. I don’t step away to give her room. I want it to be difficult. I want her to struggle. I want her to touch me without meaning to.
Kneeling, back to the wall, trapped between me and the plaster, she waits. I give her a beat to decide who she is.
A good girl would stay still, eyes down, waiting for instruction.
But that isn’t today’s game.
Her hands slide to my thighs, and she looks up at me and bites her plush bottom lip. Holding my eyes, she undoes my belt.
“Did I give you permission to touch me?”
“No.” Her hands hover, then drop to her lap.
When I’m sure she won’t move, I step away and cross to the other side of the room. “Crawl to me, Kitten.”
Instead, she spreads her thighs. The shirt rides high—nothing underneath, just like I told her. I let out a restrained hiss, unwilling to let her hear it.
This girl is going to be the death of me, but my demise’ll be worth every second.
“What do I get if I crawl to you?” she asks, one eyebrow lifting.
“You should be more concerned with what happens if you don’t.”
She huffs and crosses her arms.
I eat the distance in two strides, grab the back of her neck, and force her forward onto her hands. I flip her shirt and land one loud, firm smack on her perfect ass. My fingers press along the sides of her slick little cunt, giving just enough friction to make her needy.
“I want to play a game with you, Kitten, but only good girls get to play. Do you want to be a good girl and win a prize, or should I turn this ass bright red before I fuck your throat?”
16
Atticus
“Maybe I wantto play a game, get my ass turned bright red, and get my throat fucked, sir.” Phoenix stares up at me with a trace of defiant mischief.
The way she sayssirsends a clean shock through me. Still, I have a part to play. I cross back to the bench, sit, and point to the ground between my feet. “Crawl.”
This time she obeys—kind of. She crawls slowly, pausing every few paces. When she kneels on her mark, she looks up and meets my gaze instead of keeping her eyes cast down.
I take the back of her head and correct her posture. She huffs—enough to grate on my nerves but not enough to earn punishment. She’s making me work for full control. Good girl. It wouldn’t be satisfying if she gave in too easily.
“We’re going to play a game called Treasure Map. Ever heard of it?”
She shakes her head and tries to look up. I hold her down.
“I’ve hidden a present for you in this room. Your job is to find it. I’ll give you directions that you will follow exactly. If you mess up or disobey me, you start over. Do you want to play?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. The rules.” I let go of her head, and she immediately looks at me and rolls her eyes.
