He grabs my ankle and yanks me down in one swift pull.
I gasp as my back hits the rug, legs tangled in the blanket, arms flailing. “Hey!”
He’s on top of me before I can move, pinning me down like he did in the snow. I bite back a squeal and a giggle because I have him exactly where I want him, and something tells me he’s not bothered by that.
“You want to play, little Emma?” he growls.
My pulse spikes. My thighs clench.
I grin. “Depends. What’s the punishment?”
He flips me fast, and my cheek presses to the rug. His knee parts my thighs. His hand lands hard across my ass.
A sharp slap. Then another. Heat blooms under my skin.
Oh fuck yes.
I moan.
“Count,” he says, his voice low.
Eeek. Count?
“One,” I say with a choked breath.
His palm cracks again.
“Two…”
“Louder.”
“Three.” I gasp, squirming.
He bends close, his breath scalding my ear.
“You throw snowballs, you mouth off, and now you tease me about blood and sheets?”
Another hard spank that makes my clit throb.
“You think you can get away with that?”
“Maybe,” I whisper.
“Not today.”
He yanks the leggings down to my knees. My heart thunders in my chest when I’m bared to him, and cold air licks across my skin. His hand kneads the sore, heated skin beforestriking again. This time lower, rougher, catching the top of my thigh.
My body jolts. Heat rushes between my legs. I’m so fucking wet, so fucking needy, my voice tangled in a moan.
“Four.”
I arch back into him. Shameless. Desperate.
“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So fucking wet from a little discipline. You like being handled like this, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Like being used like my filthy little toy?”