Page 16 of Shades of Ruin

She blinks up at me. “You’regoing to wash dirty dishes and mop the floors?” She says it like she thinks I’ve never done a day of shitty manual labor in my life. It’s insulting, really.

“My first job at a Michelin star restaurant in Paris, they wouldn’t let me touch anything other than dirty dishes for three months. It’s been a while, but I think I still remember how to hold a sponge.”

She’s silent for a moment, thoughtful as she turns over this little bit of information I’ve never shared with anyone here. I’ve always hated therags to richesstory the public likes to spin when someone rises to fame or success on their own. So I’ve kept quiet about my own background. Cooking in Paris sounds flashy enough that people don’t feel the need to ask how I got there.And I’d rather not dwell on the hell my life was before I became a chef.

“Fine,” she answers finally.

“Fine,what?” I demand, excitement flickering through my veins.

“Bend me over the fucking desk.”

Fuck me. I search her face for any sign of doubt, but all I see is burning determination. This version of her is the same brave, reckless girl who looked me in the eyes at Pandemonium and begged me to scare her. Shewantsme to hurt her. I can smell the scent of arousal on her skin, and if I were to dip my fingers into her pretty little cunt, I know I’d find her hole slick and sticky with the sweetest cum.

“Option two it is.” I grin like the devil himself as I walk to the other side of my desk and give her enough space to lie across it. “Stand up.” She obeys with less hesitation than I expect, rising to her feet without an ounce of fear. I survey what she’s wearing—a grey apron that’s still covered in sugar and flour, her usual white button-up, and a pair of light jeans that are so tight on her perfect ass that I don’t have to rely on memory to imagine what that ass would look like naked.

“Take off the apron,” I command. Usually, I’d make her strip completely, but I don’t want to push her farther than I should tonight. She does as I ask and drapes the apron over her chair. “Unbutton your pants and pull them down to your knees.”

“I didn’t agree to taking off my clothes, Greyson,” she snaps, a panicked look in her eyes as she glances down at the hardness jutting from between my thighs.

“Jesus Christ, I’m not trying to fuck you.”As much as I would love to.“But if your ass isn’t bare in the next ten seconds, I’m spanking you with something a hell of a lot harder than my hand.” I brush my fingers over the leather wrapped around my waist until I reach the metal buckle. “You want me to take off mybelt and give you a whipping? Or do you want to pull down your pants like a good girl so I can warm your pretty cheeks with my hand?”

Arousal flares in her eyes, and she doesn’t look away from me as her hands slide down to her jeans. She quickly fumbles with the buttons before pulling her pants down low on her thighs. She was bare on Halloween night, so this is the first time I’ve seen her in panties. And goddamnit, that little scrap of lace between her thighs isred. She’s my fucking destruction without even trying.

“Stand here.” I point to the spot in front of me, and there’s barely enough room for her to squeeze between my body and the edge of the desk. Her almost naked ass brushes against my erection as she obeys my order. Even though she knows what’s coming, she stands with her back straight, making no move to bend before I tell her to.

“You never answered about hard touch. Is it okay?”

“Y-yes,” she whispers.

“Good.” I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and force her down against the desk. A sweet whimper falls from her lips, but she doesn’t protest as she remains in position. “Safeword?” I ask without explanation. She knows how this game is played.

“Caramel,” she answers in a breathy moan. It’s the same from Halloween. The memory of that bittersweet night leaves me determined to hit her even harder.

She jumps when I drag my fingers over her ass. I’m careful to keep my touch harsh. I still remember her panic when I slipped and stroked my hands over her hips during her interview. And after months of keeping myself from stealing the little touches I’ve craved more than anything, finally having my hands on her again soothes the burn in my chest more than I could have hoped.

I grab the lacy edge of her panties that brushes below thetwin dimples in her back and jerk upward, leaving the red material wedged between her crack with her plump cheeks on full display. I don’t want anything coming between my hand and her naughty little ass until I’ve turned it a perfect shade of red. She doesn’t move or make a sound as I rake my fingers across her skin and watch five pretty pink trails form.

“Will you cry for me, Angélica?” I purr, continuing to drag my nails over her skin. I already know her answer.

“No.”

“We’ll see.” I line my palm up with her right cheek, loving how the round curve of her ass fits perfectly in my large hand. “Do you want me to give you a number? Or do you want to see how many you can take before you’re begging for relief?”

“I can handle anything you dish out, chef. Just let me know when your hand gets tired. Wouldn’t want you to endanger your precious hands and culinary career over a spanking.”

I don’t answer her bratty reply. I just draw back my hand and slam it against her ass with enough strength to force a shriek from her lips. I hit her again.Smack. And twice more in quick succession where I delivered the others.Smack. Smack.I hit her even harder,raining a torrent of blows in exactly the same spot, never alternating sides or lowering in intensity. I spank her until she’s squirming, lifting her left side in the air like she’s begging me to spread the pain.

When I finally decide she’s red enough, I switch to her other side, hitting a new spot every time so she can’t keep track of the rhythm.Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack. She’s probably taken thirty-five or forty hard slaps of my hand by now. I never count the blows—the count doesn’t matter, only the color. Angélica’s golden skin turns the prettiest shade of copper as I work her over, her sweet little moans echoing through the room.

I focus on spanking her lower, catching that tender crease between her ass and thighs. After a few sharp slaps to the tops ofher thighs, my hand comes back wet. I pause, staring at the glistening stickiness on my fingertips in surprise. “Spread your legs,” I command, my voice strained as I battle the urge to plunge into her cunt right now.

Without any hesitation, she shimmies her pants a bit lower so she can spread her legs for me. And when she parts those soft thighs—fuck me—I can see that she’s soaked right through the red lace covering her pussy, white trails of cream drizzling down her warm skin like icing. Christ, what I’d give to lick her clean and taste her sweetness on my tongue again.

“Do you like being spanked, Angélica?” I ask while dragging my middle finger up her thigh through a ripple of cum.

“No,” she moans, squirming against the edge of the desk like she’s aching to find even the smallest hint of friction between her legs.

“Such a little liar,” I tut with a sharp slap against her ass. She whimpers at the sting of another blow falling on her scorched skin. Then she grinds her hips into my cock like a slut begging for more. “Want to see how sweet your lies taste, angel?” Her nickname from Halloween slips from my lips, but thankfully she’s too distracted by my wet fingers pressing against her mouth to notice. “Open up.”

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