Page 60 of Demon of Dreams

And then his hands were on me. Light touches at first. He stroked his fingers along my arms, traced them across my chest. I refused to move, to acknowledge him at all. But that only made him bolder.

One of his hands dropped to my right leg, running up my inner thigh, higher and higher.

“See, if you actually wanted me gone, it wouldn’t be so hard to get rid of me. Certainly notthishard.”

His hand brushed against my cock, straining up against my joggers, and I groaned in spite of myself. That felt too good. He palmed my bulge again, fingers slipping lower, adding a light squeeze, and against my better judgement, I opened my eyes.

Cory smiled, running his tongue along his lower lip, looking up at me with bashful eyes.

“Hi,” he said, his voice breathless.

It was an act. I knew it was. Less than a minute ago, he’d been brazen and pushy, teasing me about my desire. This tremulous innocence was just his next trick.

But dammit, it worked.

I’d never denied being attracted to Cory. Of course I was hard, of course I was enjoying this. My body wanted him—it was my brain that didn’t.

Except…except I couldn’t deny that he was still here, a place he could only be because I was imagining him. Clearly some part of my braindidwant him here. Maybe it was time for me to deal with that.

If I was going to teach Cory—in combat class only, to be clear—I needed to get used to being around him. Needed to find a way for his presence to fade into the background. So maybe I should just give into this now? Maybe all I needed was to get him out of my system.

“You really are a brat, you know,” I told him, and that wide-eyed innocence vanished in an instant.

He grinned back at me. “So do something about it. Teach me a lesson.”

“You know…I think I will.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but I didn’t give him time. I was already dragging him to an elegant leather sofa in the corner of Isaac’s office. I sat and brought him across my knee, stomach down. I placed my right hand on his back, holding him in place, while my left went to work on his waist, tugging until I got his jeans and boxers down below his hips.

Cory yelped in surprise, twisting his head over his shoulder. “Are youspankingme?”

“You told me to do something about it. You have no one but yourself to blame.”

It felt good to show him that I had limits. Even if this was all in my head. Besides, I was too busy marveling at his perfect, plump ass to pay much attention to his indignation.

His skin was pink where his clothes had rubbed as I’d pulled them off, and warm to the touch. Each cheek was firm and rounded and fit perfectly in my hand. Fuck, I wanted to see what hid between them.

Cory whined in pleasure as I kneaded first his left cheek, then his right. I pinched him, then brought my index finger to the top of his crack. He shivered as it dipped in between his cheeks, then down, until I finally reached his hole.

“Oh God, yes,” he moaned. “Push it—”

I pulled my finger away, then lightly smacked his left cheek.

“Ow!” He gave me a wounded look over his shoulder, which I knew was just for effect. I hadn’t spanked him that hard.

“You’re not in charge anymore. You don’t tell me what to do.”

I spanked him again, and again, and again. I paused between each light smack, sometimes for a few seconds, sometimes for almost a minute, savoring the way he never knew when my hand would come down next.

I loved how red and hot his skin grew. Loved the little gasps and moans that slipped from his mouth each time my palm connected. Loved the feel of his cock growing harder and harder against my leg. I stroked his ass between strikes, moving his cheeks lightly, catching little glimpses of the tight, smooth hole in between them.

Cory was enjoying himself as much as I was, if not more. He pushed his ass up into my hands as I rubbed him, begging for further attention. I spanked him a little harder the second time he did that, to remind him who was boss.

In response, he whined, “Harder, Daddy. I need it harder.”

I froze, my hand in mid-air. Something squeezed tight in my chest.

“Don’t call me that.”

---