Page 73 of Dance of Devils
A low whine wrenches from my threat. “Yes, sir,” I choke.
“Good girl.”
The only warning is that his warm palm leaves my ass. Then it comes back with a sudden, viciousSMACKthat echoes through the room and makes me yelp.
“One!” I choke, squirming in his lap as his palm spanks my bare ass,hard.
The hand comes down again, brutally hitting other cheek.
“TWO!” I blurt, my voice wavering.
He alternates between my cheeks for number three and four. I get them right.
I fuck up on the next one, though. The sensation of his palm smacking my skin and sending raw heat spiraling out from the point of impact is turning my brain to goo and making my body writhe and grind shamelessly against his thigh.
“That was five,” Kir murmurs darkly after a few seconds of silence.
I shudder, suddenly horrifically aware of what I’ve done.
“Fi—”
“Too late.”
I squeal as his palm crashes into my ass again.
“That’s one again,” he murmurs. “Try to keep track, Ms. Ellis.”
“One!” I repeat, my voice whiny, eager, floaty.
He keeps going, alternating between my cheeks, each lash of his hand getting harder and harder until my entire ass is on fire in the most delicious way possible.
“Nine!” I squeal. My voice is totally transformed. So is my headspace. It feels like I’m melting, sinking down into soft, consuming darkness. Like reality is swallowing me up and cocooning me in a weirdly relaxed, euphoric embrace.
I feel utter detachment from myself, like an out-of-body experience. I watch from somewhere else as this gorgeous, all-consuming man bends me over his knee andspanks meuntil he fucking owns me.
“Ten…”
I barely get the word out as the last blow crashes to my bruised, tender flesh.
His hand lingers there, gently stroking my throbbing ass, his fingers dancing from one cheek to the other—tracing, calming, soothing as I sink deeper and deeper into the glow of submission.
His hand slips between my thighs. I’m still in that melty place in my head, and when I feel his fingers slide over mysoakedpussy, I whimper and spread my legs a little wider.
“Good girl.”
As he says it, he sinks two fingers into me.
Oh, fuck.
He curls them deep, stroking the pads of his thick fingers against my g-spot. He adds more pressure, stoking and teasing and pumping his fingers in and out of my pussy.
All I can do is melt against his legs and drip all over him. My eyes roll back. My mouth goes slack. My thighs tremble against his and my body writhes and undulates, taking his fingers over and over until everything starts to blur.
“Such a good girl, Brooklyn,” he growls quietly, pushing his fingers into me and gathering my ponytail in his fist. “You’re making a mess of my fingers, baby girl,” he rasps. “You want to come all over them, don’t you.”
I whimper, my entire reality blurring and melting around me as I nod my head.
“I asked you a question, Brooklyn.”
