Page 129 of Bad For A Weekend

He lifts me back up to sit on the counter and positions himself between my legs. “I like being the one to reach stuff for my little girl.”

His hands skim up my bare thighs and sneak under my cut-off jean shorts, then his lips are on my neck, sucking and nipping.

“What about unpacking?”

“We’ve done enough for today.” He scoots me off the counter. I wrap my arms around his neck and link my ankles behind his back, giggling when he reaches a ticklish spot just under my ear.

“Take off your clothes and bend over with your hands on the chair,” he says, setting me down once we reach our room.

“Why? I was a good girl today.” I push my flannel off my shoulders.

“Were you? Because I saw you sneak in a coffee table that wasn’t in your old place.”

“It was a gift from my dad.” It’s a lie, but my old coffee table was too small for the space.

“Riiiight,” he draws out.

I laugh, running my hands under his shirt and up his chest. “It’s made of a beautiful hard wood.”

He takes my hand and brings it down to his crotch. “I have your hard wood right here.”

“Maybe you should show me so I can compare and contrast.”

“Maybe you should do what I told you to do before I add more spankings to your punishment.”

I take a step back and strip. First, I remove my cropped band tee to reveal my sheer, lacy bra. His pupils dilate and focus on my puckered nipples that show through the fabric.

Next, I shimmy down my shorts until I’m standing in only a matching thong. His hungry gaze tracks my movement as I reach behind my back and undo the clasp of my bra, letting it slide down my arms.

“This too?” I ask as I toy with the thin strips of fabric at my hips.

“All of it.” He pops the top button of his jeans and unzips them. Apparently, they were getting snug.

I turn around and lower my panties to the ground, bending over to give him a glimpse of my most private areas.

Through Owen’s guidance, my sexual confidence has grown tenfold. I trust him implicitly, and since I was a virgin when we met, it feels only natural for me to hand over my control. Some people would find the games we play taboo given our age difference, but I don’t care because everything he does to me makes me come alive.

Walking over to the chair, I lean forward and rest my hands on the seat. I squirm as I wait, but he takes his time doing God knows what.

I sense him approach me from behind and feel his teeth sink into my butt cheek. I gasp from the surprise, then moan as he kisses it better.

“What’s your safe word?” he asks.

I didn’t think we needed a word to stop our play, but it was important to Owen since when he gets rough, I’ll sometimes beg him to stop, not really meaning it. We needed a word that wouldn’t be said out of context.

“Cujo,” I say, humor lacing my tone.

“Good girl.” He sets a paddle on the chair in front of me. It looks to be made of leather and has some padding on it. “I’ll be using this tonight. It’ll sting more than my hand, but I promise you’ll love it.”

“I trust you.”

He palms my ass, warming me up before delivering a swat to my sit spot.

“Oh, God,” I moan, my sex clenching.

“Do you like it?”

I look over my shoulder. “I love it.”

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