Page 38 of Captivated By Danger

Standing, he pulled me to him with so much force that I bumped into his hard chest. Before I could protest, he’d used my wrist as leverage, turning me around so that my back was pressed to his chest, and my arm was folded behind me. To move even an inch, it hurt like hell.

“Sir,” I choked out.

“Don’t call my name, Ms. Greysen.”

He started bunching my dress in his hand until I felt the cool air on my ass. My whole bottom half was out when he tucked the back of my dress into whatever arm hold he had on me. If anyone walked in here, they’d get a full view of my bald mound because I did not have on any panties.

“You know what I do to bad girls like you?”

Shaking my head, I looked down at the floor.

“Spank them.”

The first swat took me by surprise, making me hiss out in pain.

“Sir, I—”

He swatted me again in the same spot. It burned, but my slit was starting to fill with my juices.

“You don’t speak now.”

He swatted me again and I groaned. My pussy was soaked and sticking to my thick thighs.

“Sir, I’m sorry.”

“Show me.”

“H...how?”

The way I was feeling, I would suck his dick in the middle of this floor.

“Clean me.”

When he released me, my arm tingled like all the blood was racing back to its spot. Turning toward him, I picked up the napkin, but he stopped me.

“No.”

He tapped the middle of my chin.

“You want me to… to lick you?”

He raised his eyebrow in response, basically telling me that I’d better figure it out.

I took a step closer to him and stood on my tiptoes. I was still about a head shorter than him, but I was able to reach the bottom of his neck. Slowly, I swiped at the liquor that was nearly dry on his skin. The low sigh he released had me tightening my thighs together. I went to the other side and he moved his head, inviting me even more. His dick was hard as a brick on my stomach. When his Adam’s apple bobbed, he moved away from me, but I wasn’t done. He tasted just as good as he smelled.

“Now take a seat. And if I have to correct you again, it won’t be with my hand.”

“I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

He snapped his finger and pointed at the chair. “I said take a seat. I won’t ask you again.”

When I plopped down in the chair, I watched him as he fanned the napkin out and placed it in his lap, like he didn’t have the remnants of the Cosmo around his shirt or dried droplets of the liquor on his face and my saliva on his neck.

This man is a sociopath.

SIX

DIESEL

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