Page 12 of Scorned Queen

“You’d be my first,” I confess.“First kiss, first spanking.It fits, right?”My chin lifts in defiance.“But you’ll have to make me move my hands to make that happen.”

Satisfaction lights his dark eyes and he answers me not with words but with actions, his hand closing around the silk between my legs as he tears it from my body.I yelp with the shock of the action, and it’s almost enough for me to move my hands, his intent I’m sure, but I do not.His fingers press between my legs, stroking the wet heat of my sex, his lips curving.“So wet, baby.I think you like this talk about me spanking you.”His fingers slide inside me, and I pant, my hips lifting with his exploration, when I really want to grab him and push myself closer.

He's merciless in his exploration, stretching me, stroking me, and the only thing that allows me to maintain my control is the promise that he will soon be inside me.But I’m so close to the edge, so ready to come, that I moan with the ache of my body, but I hold onto the bed, afraid he’ll stop, certain he’ll deny me any moment.

He leans in and kisses me, and it all but undoes me.My arms need to be wrapped around his neck, and when his hand covers my breast and teases my nipple, I’m melting right here in this bedroom.My lashes lower, and I wish for something I can clench but there is only wood.My breasts are high, thrust into the air, and I want him to touch my nipples, lick them too, but he denies me what I want.

Instead, he leans in close, his cheek to mine, his fingers pulling out of me, to cup my sex, and he says, “Not yet.”

My entire body screams in rejection, and my fingers curl in my palms, as it’s all I can do not to capture his that rests on my waist.“You’re trying to make me touch you,” I whisper.

“Touch me, and I’ll let you come,” he promises.

“And then you’ll spank me?”I challenge.

“You’ll like it.”

“I can make myself come.”

He laughs low and soft and kisses me.“But we both know it’s better when I do it for you.”He catches me to him, and I touch him, there’s just no way around it, before he turns me to face the post, and I’m forced to catch my hands on the hard surface, which should be him, but it’s the post again.

The idea that he’s about to spank me sends my pulse soaring.Adrenaline takes control and I try to turn around.Damion pins me between the post and his powerful thighs and hips, filling his hands with my breasts, exploring my waist, then my hips, and yes, then, my backside.

“Damion,” I say urgently.

He squeezes my backside and murmurs, “I’d never spank you without permission, Alana.Trust me, baby.”His teeth scrape my shoulder, and he says, “Trust me.” There’s something about the way he repeats those words, and I know they run deeper than sex.They’re about our history, about the love and hate, and push and pull, that is carved into our every moment together.

But his request is easier said than done, when the lifetime behind us still defines us far more than any lifetime before us, and the minute he steps away from me, I try to turn.He flattens his hand on my back.“Trust me.”

It’s not a command, as one might expect in the circumstance, but rather a request, and that’s what undoes me.

And the truth is I do trust him, with everything but my fragile heart.I know he won’t spank me without my permission.I know he won’t hurt me.And when he says he’ll give me a dozen orgasms, he means to make that vow come true.I have nothing to lose, and I whisper, “I do.”

He waits there a moment, his hand still on my lower back, as if he is giving me time to change my mind.I can almost feel him battling within himself over me and this moment, and I don’t know why but his emotions and his arousal collide and crash over me.A moment later, his hand slides over my hip and backside and then falls away from my body, but my skin tingles where he touched me.

I’m vulnerable all over again.

He’s good at doing that to me.

There’s a shift in the air, and I know he’s moved away, the sound of clothing rustling about, and I know now that he is naked, too.

Chapter twelve

Iknowhe’sbehindme before he ever touches me.That’s the thing about me with Damion.I feel him on some level that defies any reality I know with any other human being.I can’t even explain what that means, but if he’s close,I know.It’s like a tingling sensation, an awareness that reaches beyond the conscious being.

And right now, he’s so close I can feel the heat of his body, a moment later, the press of his cock to my hip.I swallow hard and hold my breath, waiting for what comes next.His hands settle on my waist, and his touch torments my nerve endings in the best of ways.

He leans in and draws in a breath as if he’s inhaling my scent, “Turn around.”There is this raw, achy need in the depths of his voice that radiates through me and has me twisting around to face him.

The minute I do, he’s right in front of me, his sculpted, naked body intimately framing mine.His fingers tangle into my hair, his grip rough, erotic.“I’m not going to spank you,” he says, “but, God, woman, I want to do every naughty thing you’ll let me do to you.”

I’m caught up in the moment, in the absolute intimacy between us right here and now, finally touching.“Do it,” I whisper.

“You have no idea how much I could take from you if you let me, so don’t let me.Not yet.”He pauses, his lashes lowering, as he murmurs, “Damn it.”And when he looks at me again, he says, “It’s going to kill me when I lose you,” before his mouth closes down over mine and he kisses me—no, heconsumesme.This is notjusta kiss at all.It’s tenderness, demand, passion, torment, andlove,and the mood of push and pull is gone.

I don’t even try to tell him he doesn’t have to lose me, it doesn’t have to be that way.He’s not in the right headspace right now, and maybe, I’m not either.Besides, I’m touching him now, as I’ve wanted to touch him for what feels like a lifetime.Touching him everywhere, anywhere I can, and I am not shy about it.I wrap one hand around his thick erection.He groans with the impact, and the power I’ve wielded over him is a high I can’t explain.His hand grips mine over his erection as pumps into my grip, but grows quickly impatient.

He palms my backside and lifts me, my breasts molded to his chest, my legs wrapping his waist, and he walks to a large chair in the corner and sits down with me on top of him.I straddle him, his erection is between us, pressed to my belly, and the hunger we have for one another is dark and edgy.I can feel it cloaking us like a heavy blanket, pulling us together.

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