Page 4 of Crave

“Chianti,” I blurt, spying the wine rack behind him.

He nods. His voice hardens. “Clean up the mess you made.”

Not what I was expecting. My cheeks burn as I bend over to gather the spilled newspapers and stuff them in the paper bag he’s set out.

I know he can see my panties as my short dress rides up. He can see the dampness, my excitement through the silky fabric — all for him. I let him look instead of kneeling down.

James stands with his arms folded, radiating disapproval, as I hustle to clean up. But the tent in his sweatpants —hedidn’t feel obliged to change — makes it clear that he’s enjoying the show.

When his welcome mat is spick and span, he takes the bag and opens his door.

“In you go.”

I scurry inside and the door closes behind me with ominous finality.

“Stand on the carpet.” He points to his immaculate cream-colored carpet. “There.”

My face flames. I do as I’m told.

James circles me, inspecting my body from every angle.

“Very good.”

With one finger, he tugs down the strap of my light dress to expose my bra. I shiver from the fleeting touch.

“Take your bra off. You don’t need that here.”

Holy shit. One touch on my shoulder and he’s telling me to take my bra off?

Flushing, I unzip my dress partway and slide the straps off my shoulders. I duck my head girlishly, letting my curly hair fall over my face, as I unhook my bra.

“Look at me, Kori,” he orders. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”

A whimper escapes my lips. I’m already unbearably aroused. I raise my head to meet his hazel eyes, which are narrowed in concentration. On me. Only me.

Slowly I peel off my bra and let the lacy cups fall to the floor, baring my breasts.

“Later, you’ll pick that up,” he says softly. “Right now, don’t move.”

I hold onto my pretty yellow dress, bunched around my waist, as he stares at my heavy breasts. He traces one finger over my tight, sensitive nipple, teasing the dark bud, and I jump. When his warm hands close over my breasts, a long, wanton moan drops from me.

“Such sweet little tits,” he murmurs. “I’m very pleased.”

I squirm, crossing my legs, trying to rub my thighs together. “Little” is the last word that’s applicable here. And yet it’s so fucking perfect at the same time.

I cry out as he cups my breasts fully, massaging them. Too soon, he lets go.

“Put your dress back on and get over my knee.”

Jesus. Oh, Jesus. I scramble to obey, zipping up my flimsy dress up to cover my bare tits.

James sits down on his couch in his T-shirt and sweatpants like he has all the time in the world. Meanwhile, I’m shaking with arousal and we’ve barely started. Trembling, I lie across his lap, my ass curving into the air.

In a sudden, breathtaking motion, my panties are pulled down to my knees.

Slap! Slap!

He spanks one round cheek, then the other. Over and over. Faster and faster. Not hard, but enough to sting.

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