Page 45 of Devil's Claim

Harsh and brutal, the sound of my palm slapping against her skin jarred her into silence.

But that was short lived.

“Get… rsoirb… em,” she muttered over the gag. Funny how I could understand every word.

Get off me.

“Not until you learn your lesson.”

After the shock wore off, she started cursing me through the material. I was delighted with her chutzpa. She was a fighter and one hot woman. A damning combination.

When I brought my palm down three more times, she flailed her arms, squirming enough she almost slipped off my lap. I grabbed her by the waist, yanking her against me and the friction as she rubbed across my groin made my cock instantly hard. The ache was familiar. It was what she’d done to me the entire time I’d been around her.

I took a deep breath, continuing the spanking, shifting my hand from side to side. As I’d thought about before, seeing the rednessbuild made me eager and excited to see my handprint on her skin. Like a tattoo. Like a brand.

I was truly an evil man. Perhaps I’d have her branded with my name. The grin remained as I brought my hand down several times, keeping the swats hard and solid.

Her muffled moans of anger were turning into ones of desire.

For all the years I’d been a dominating man, I’d never disciplined a woman for acts of insolence or disobedience. The reason wasn’t because I hadn’t enjoyed the art and act of spanking a woman before. It was simply that those I’d been with had submitted without hesitation or question. They’d surrendered to me based on my reputation and their hopes they’d eventually capture my attention and my favor.

The lure of being married to a powerful man was a huge draw no matter the circumstances. It didn’t matter I was a brutal man, a killer by profession. The women had all given me what they believed I required to land a spot in social circles.

Not this woman.

Christine was and would always be a fighter. The very first woman to challenge every decision I made and every action I’d taken. As if to prove my point, her struggle intensified, I was forced to throw one leg over both of hers to keep her from launching herself off the couch.

I brought my hand down four more times, the sound like music to my ears. When combined with her moans, it kept a smile on my face.

After a few more seconds of valiant yet useless struggle, she finally went limp in my arms. But I wasn’t deceived. She was plotting her next offense.

And I was looking forward to seeing what she could or would do.

CHAPTER 11

Christine

The sound of my own agonizing moans echoed in my brain.

Why was he doing this to me?

Why hadn’t he just killed me when he’d had the chance?

Still stunned at the events of the night, I shifted on his lap again, gritting my teeth from the feel of his hard cock pressing into my stomach. What kind of monstrous man became aroused from spanking a woman?

Every inch of my body ached. From shock. From fear. From running in fucking high heels. The heroines in the movies made that look so easy.

It wasn’t.

From the horrible spanking.

But the worst ache of all was the one in my heart. The ugly truth was that in the twenty-four hours I’d spent with the man, and every minute of it unconventional, I’d started to care about him.

How crazy was that?

I, a normal girl just trying to live her life, had started to fall for the handsome, yet highly suspect armed man who’d crashed into my life.

Woe was me.

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