Page 67 of That Girl is Trouble

I pull down her jeans and underwear, and then I slide my hand over her bare ass, my pants suddenly too damn tight. Goose bumps rise across every exposed inch of her skin, and she trembles under my hand as she readies for me.

“I don’t like the way you were talking to me tonight, Kitty,” I murmur.

“I wasn’t—”

Slap.

She gasps the moment my hand slams down onto her skin.

A tingle of pain rushes over my palm as I bring it high and slam it down once again.

Another huff of air slips from her lips.

“I ask where you are, you tell me. Understand? No games.”

She nods, and I still my movements.

“Words, Kat.”

“Yes.”

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.

My dick is hard and pressing painfully against the zipper of my jeans, and with each hit, with each moan that falls out of her mouth, I’m another fraction of a second away from pulling those pants down a little farther and sliding my cock inside her tight little cunt.

Finally, breath ragged, I let up and step away.

She struggles to pull her pants back up, so I yank her around and tug her into my chest. Tears spill out of the corners of her eyes, and I slide my thumb over them before bringing it to my mouth.

“Good girl, Kat,” I say, humming as I suck the salt from my skin. “You did good.”

“You like that? Hurting me?”

I cock my head. “Did I hurt you?”

“Yes.”

“But you liked it.”

“Yes.” She looks thoughtful for a moment, and then she asks, “Why is that?”

“You like things that make your heart race. Pain does that.”

To demonstrate my point, I press my hand to her chest. Sure enough, her heart is an erratic thump against my palm. Grabbing her hand, I replace mine with it and hold it there.

She stills, listening, feeling, her brows knitted. She’s holding her breath, and after a second, I realize I am too.

“See?”

She nods. “Why… do you like it?”

“Never really thought about it.”

She tilts her chin up and scrutinizes me. “Something you like to do to all the women you fuck?”

“Not all of them. And I’m not fucking you.”

“Why not?”

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