Page 16 of Shit Happens in Ivydell

“Let’s find out.”

He peels my clothes off like he’s working for a tip—gentle efficiency, quickly folding my sweatshirt and my leggings before placing them on his nightstand. I’d have tossed them on the floor, but he’s more careful with my things. And despite the way he’s about to leave marks on me, I know he’ll be careful about that, too.

When he pulls my sports bra over my head, I lift my arms to assist him, and when he drags my panties to my ankles, I step out of them and wait for him to put them with my other clothes, not moving to get on the bed yet.

His eyes drinking in my naked body always makes me wetter than anyone else could without touching me. I try to keep my eyes on his, but mine keep drifting to his right hand. The hand that is about to warm up my ass.

My thighs muscles lengthen and contract as I fight not to rub them together. Standing still is a struggle when I want his skin on mine so badly. He rubs his thumbs over my nipples, and my breath instantly shallows.

“I love the way your body reacts for me. Reveals how needy you are. Do you need me?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

His body jolts. He was clearly not prepared for me to go there, not yet. But I love the way his body responds as well. With a nod of his head, he instructs me to get on the bed.

I lie face down, but lift my head to drag a pillow down for my cheek to rest on.

He grabs another pillow and works it under my hipbones, propping my ass up slightly, giving him better access to it and my pussy. His warm hand rubs over the globes of my ass, pausing for a few hard squeezes that make my spine arch.

I’m ready for the sting of his hand, growing frustrated in anticipation of it, in fact. He knows exactly what he’s doing tome. Feral-edged groans roll out with his deep breaths as he continues to knead my flesh.

My hips roll on the pillow, and his self-assured laugh feels inexplicably more like praise than degradation. He’s proud of himself for working me into this state so quickly, but he’s enthralled with me, too.

His fingertips intentionally graze the seam of my pussy as he massages lower on my ass. If he exerts even the slightest bit more pressure, he’ll feel the slickness of my arousal. Damn, the way I want him to feel it. It has me rocking up at a steeper angle, encouraging his fingers to slide farther south.

But he won’t give me what I want until he’s delivered on his promise.

When his hand finally lifts from my ass, I suck in a sharp breath and hold it through the first few strikes. I exhale, and my breathing takes on a rhythm of its own while the impending burn of his hand’s next contact commands all my focus.

After a few more blows, my shoulders rise as I instinctively retreat from the pain. He soothes my skin with the circular motion of his palm. No more squeezing or spanking until I’ve settled again. When he lands the next slap, I relax into the pillow, my body now adjusted, attuned to the abrupt contact and the stinging sensation that remains . . . the heat that’s now warming me from the inside out, rising to meet the warmth on my skin, melting me into his bed.

It would be a daring thing to let him know exactly how pliable and compliant I could be for him right now. But beyond the vulnerability he evokes, there is an undeniable trust. A trust too solid and too deep to make sense between us. So soon, but abiding, regardless.

The plateau of solace wanes, and the discomfort once again escalates with each strike. I draw a deep breath as if I can will my body back into contentment, bring the elevator back down, butmy pleasure and pain receptors have already punched a higher floor.

“No more.” My voice is labored.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He spanks one more time, but with less force, more tease than torment. “What was that?”

I smile at him over my shoulder. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Playing with him is such a perfect escape. I love watching the way raw lust changes a man’s features—tightened jaw, harder set brow, hooded eyelids and the searing gaze that escapes them—but when it happens to Jensen, it’s like watching an electrical grid power back up after an outage. It fills me with fascination, but it brings with it an assurance of something I don’t fully understand, yet know my life is better with than without.

He lies next to me, and his strong hand slides between my legs. His fingers skate through my juices. My eyelids flutter, and we both moan. As much as I love his oral skills, I want him to use his fingers without his tongue this time.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yeah, just your fingers.”

“Okay. Relax. I’ve got you.”

I hadn’t realized I wasn’t relaxed, but my jaw unclenches and my shoulders soften. I roll over, and he grips my inner thigh to pull my leg over his. His thumb claims my clit, and two fingers slide into my pussy.

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