Page 40 of Heartless Game

I screamed and fought, kicking and trying to get away.

He just spanked me harder.

“This is what you get for being a smart ass brat,” he said sternly as he peppered my ass with pain. “And it’s only the beginning. You’re going to hurt when you try to sit in class, and you’re not going to forget what happens when you try to fuck with me. I know you like it, though, don’t you? I don’t even have to touch your pussy, I can smell how wet you’re getting.”

“Fuck you,” I said, even though it was muffled against the comforter.

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”Slap.“But you certainly haven’t earned my cock yet.”Slap slap.“You’re going to be begging for it like a little whore before I give it to you.”Slap slap slap slap slap.

“Stop!”

“Say you’re sorry.”

“No!”

“Then you’re going to miss class,” he threatened. “And I’ll turn your ass black and blue.”

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry,” I cried.

Immediately he stopped, cupping my ass like he was trying to contain the heat that centered there.

“Stay there,” he ordered, disappearing for a moment.

The burn in my ass had relocated to my pussy, my core clenching with the need to come. I tried to ignore it. I certainly wasn’t going to let him know how good it felt and how badly I needed his touch.

When he reappeared, fabric brushed my ankles. He was working underwear up over my legs. I relaxed slightly, until elastic strings swept over my ass, only to settle around my hips.

A thong?! Who the hell still wore thongs?

He pulled the elastic, releasing it so snapped back into place, making the burn worse. I yelped from the shocking pain.

There was a weird bump at the front of the panties, right over my clit.

A moment later, I heard a buzz.

And the panties startedvibrating.

All the arousal I’d tried to dampen returned with a vengeance, driving me up toward the cliff I was terrified to fall over. My core tightened, a coil of need within me…

And then it stopped. Right before I came.

“What the fuck, Isaac?”

The vibrations started again.

“On my way back from hockey practice I stopped at that sleazy sex shop,” he said conversationally, over the buzzing and the horrible pleasure. “I realized that even if spanking wasn’t a real punishment, edging you—in public—might be. Congratulations, Tovah, you’re about to slut it up in journalism class today.”

“You wouldn’t,” I gasped.

Pain lashed through my scalp as he gripped my hair in a ponytail and pulled me up and backward, until I was kneeling up on the bed, my body arched in a bow, my head craned back to look at him.

“Oh, I would, little snoop. You don’t even know the beginnings of what I’ll do to put you in your place and keep you there.”

Releasing me so I fell forward on the bed, he walked toward his closet. “I guess I’m going to be matching your hair today. What color pink is that, anyway?”

“Millennial pink,” I said, flipping onto my back and glaring as he ripped his shirt off over his head, exposing delineated muscles on the most beautiful back I’d ever seen. The sleeve tattoos on his arm of shadows, guns, blood and death stopped, interrupted by a stone wall with a dying vine crawling across his back. I was curious what it meant but didn’t want to ask. The tattoos were just more proof that the good, straightlaced guy he presented in public wasn’t who he was in private. I hated to admit it, but they were also fucking hot.

He pulled one of the now pink long-sleeved shirts over his head, and the tattoos disappeared like they’d never existed. It felt like a secret between us. They weren’t, obviously—his teammates would’ve seen him shirtless, and so had probably plenty women when he’d fucked them. But I couldn’t help but feel like I held the keys to Isaac Silver.

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