Page 106 of Right Number, Wrong Man
Jax carries me to the bed and sits on the edge, laying me face down across his lap. His rough palm draws over my ass, stroking so softly it’s actually pissing me off. I want to be fucked hard, not whatever this is.
I mewl impatiently and his touch withdraws—only to be replaced by a stinging smack.
“What the hell!” I shout, my pussy spasming.
He tuts. “That ain’t what you’re supposed to say.”
My head spins from the burn and the images crowding my mind. Memories of Colt gripping my wrist and telling me,I’m gonna lay you bare-assed across this counter and spank some sense into you.
Is this how Colt would do it?
I really shouldn’t think of him while I’m with Jax. Everything I want is here, but my brain won’t cooperate.
“You’re such an ass!” I yell, but I don’t know if I mean Jax or Colt.
“Watch your mouth. This was a test to see if you’ve learned your place in our dynamic and if you’d accept what I give you without question. Without reluctance.Without resistance.” His fingers trail over my thigh. “You failed, Sugar.”
Another sharp sting fans across my rear and I yelp.
“What the fuck do you want from me, Jax?”
“You ought to thank me after each strike.”
The sheer audacity to?—
Jax’s palm lands hard on my ass again and tears spring to my eyes. The first two were manageable, but the spot is getting sore.
“I can do this all night… but can you?” he asks. “Just say three words and the pain will go away.Thank you, Sir. That’s all I wanna hear.”
“Fuck you and your power trip!” I bring out.
He smacks me again and I bite down on my lip, tasting blood. I don’t know why I’m being so stubborn. Thanking him isn’t a big deal. I’ve done it before, but for some reason, it feels amazing to fight back.
His calm patience. The sharp pain.
I want to resist a while longer. I want to hurt and forget about my troubles. The frustration I held back in my loveless marriage. Those complicated emotions about Colt that don’t make sense.
I want the pain to take it all away, make me forget.
Jax’s hand meets my ass once more and tears stream down my face. My hips shift restlessly with a roiling warmth, wetness collecting between my legs.
I sob through the next strikes, every contact sending a bolt of desire through my core. He pauses between each smack, but he never waits the same amount of time. The anticipation whips me into a frenzy, making every hit a surprise.
I lose track of how often his palm punishes my sore flesh. I curse like I’ve never cursed before, vitriol spillingfrom my lips like I’m possessed by a very horny and equally angry demon.
Soon, I don’t feel like a woman anymore. I’m just formless heat, nameless pain and mindless lust.
And then finally—finally—I’m ready to give him what he wants.
“Thank you, Sir,” I sob deliriously.
Jax’s hand tangles gently in my hair. “Good girl,” he whispers, and his tone is so sweet, I can’t believe he’s the same man who gave me a bruised ass.
He lays me tenderly on the bed, the sheets chafing on my rear. I whimper, but he shushes me while he opens the bottled water and puts a hand under my head, helping me to drink.
“Do you wanna continue the session?” he asks, setting the bottle aside on the nightstand.
I nod. Speaking is too much right now. Somewhere through the pain, I lost my voice. I lost myself a little, too, but that’s okay. It’s freeing to have all decisions taken from me and lie here, let him do whatever he wants to do to me.
