The innocent question has my brain flooding with images of her just like this while Van fingered her sweet cunt from behind and made her cum.
“Don’t you remember?” I taunt.
She shakes her head.
I glance over her head to the man standing still and patient with his stick gripped in one fist. His eyes are on her ass before drifting up to meet mine with a twisted smirk I understand to my core.
“Do you want to know?” I taunt, returning my attention to the tiny creature clutched in my hold.
“Yes, please.”
So polite. So fucking sweet. Everything about her twists me up, turns me feral. A demon desperate for a taste of the one thing it knows shouldn’t be allowed.
“We’ll tell you, but you get a spanking for each bad behavior. Deal.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EVERLY
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A spanking?
My breath stutters at the very prospect. That’s an offer I would pay them to commit. I can barely nod fast enough. Barely stand still when Lachlan Shaw slides his big palms down my back. Over my ass and cups them. He squeezes.
God, am I dreaming?
“What was that dress, baby?” he starts. “Who were you wearing that for?”
“No one,” I lie weakly.
How am I supposed to tell them I bought it for them? I saw it in a shop in Mayfield weeks ago and thought of them. that I imagined their hands on me. They’d think I was a terrible person.
Lachlan hums softly but isn’t convinced. “That was not ano onedress. Who was it for?”
“I...” Words tangle up in my throat. “No, I—”
Snap!
The sharp sting of plastic lights up my left cheek, stealing the air from my lungs. My whole body jolts. The spot prickles. Ican’t reach it, but Lachlan smooths a palm over the spot until the prickles abide.
“No lying.”
I can’t, but the fear of another strike has me struggling to cooperate. Even as my thighs squeeze together.
“I got it ... for you and Van,” I confess weakly. “I wanted ... I wanted to wear it for you.”
The smack is harder, sharper. I cry out, the leg lifting from the sting. Tears prickle the corners of my eyes.
“Why?” I whimper. “I told the truth.”
Lachlan, expression a heavy mask of desire, smirks. “We make the rules.”
His hand slides over the curve and under my skirt. He fingers the edge of my panties. The useless strip of fabric cutting up between my cheeks.
Van steps closer. His heat is a furnace grazing my back, curling around me. His fingers command my throat from behind, and my head is gently wrenched back so I’m staring up into the molten hunger burning in his eyes.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he asks, voice low, lethal, laced with something darker than anger ... want. Ravenous need.