Page 14 of Kept

I realize he has both of my hands trapped in one of his, and the other has come to rest on my hip.

“I didn’t lie!”

“Omission isn’t the truth either.”

“You said no lies. It’s not a lie.” I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.

I feel him chuckle softly against my back, before he clicks his tongue at me in admonishment. His warm breath floods down my neck when he whispers against my ear, “That would be a great argument for a lawyer. But I’m not a lawyer, kitten.”

The hand that was on my hip slides forward, to the top button of my jeans. He flicks it open.

“What are you doing?”

The zipper slowly slides down. I swear my hyper-focused senses can feel each tooth separate as it moves.

I try to pull away, but his grip on my wrists doesn’t budge. “What the fuck are you doing?” I’m starting to hyperventilate.

“I’m not spanking you through your jeans, kitten.” He says it so matter-of-factly, like he’s explaining why he booked a later flight or changed a dinner reservation.

My whirling brain comes screeching to a halt.

Spanking?

“Spanking? Don’t even think about it!”

“Oh, kitten, I’ve been thinking about it since I snatched you up in that alley.”

“You can’t spank me!”

“What part of your current situation leads you to believe that you get a say in anything that happens right now?”

I shiver, watching our reflections in the darkened glass. My arms are pulled behind my back, my breasts thrust forward by the position. My shirt is ripped, dirt is smudged across my arms, and my eyeliner has dried down my cheeks. He towers behind me. Dark suit, dark hair, dark eyes. I feel like I’m about to be devoured by the devil.

And there is nothing I can do about it.

His free hand moves, slowly pulling the edges of my jeans down my hips. I whimper. When they are at the middle of my thighs, he stops. His grip still on my arms, I feel him step back and sit down on the ottoman, pulling me down with him.

Over his lap.

He smooths out the skimpy thong panties I’m wearing, making them slide deeper between my cheeks. The air in the room is cold against my skin, and I feel goosebumps prickle across my body.

“These are lovely, kitten,” he tells me. His massive hand starts to massage my ass. I whimper again.

What the fuck is that about, Sarah?

“Has anyone spanked this cute little ass before, kitten?” he asks.

I can still see our reflection in the glass. I shake my head.

“Good girl.”

Something about that makes me acutely aware of my peaked nipples against the mesh of my bra, as well as the wetness I can already feel soaking my thong. My mind is spinning, panic blocking out my rational thought.

Not just panic, I realize. Something else. Something I can’t place.

I try to get off his lap, and he lets out a low groan. I realize the movement was rubbing directly against his hard cock, barely contained by the thin pants of his suit.

Holy shit. That’s not all cock, is it?

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