Page 74 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
Isabel shuddered. “I don’t think you put your back into that punishment, Mr Ashford.”
Something dark and possessive flared in his chest. Even now, she challenged him.
“Count out another six,” he growled, bringing his hand down hard across her arse. The mark bloomed red instantly.
Slap. Slap.His handprint was a deeper red now.
“Eight. Nine.”
“Tell me why you’re being punished.”
She panted. “I infiltrated Harrington’s chambers. Without you.”
“And?”
Slap!
“I risked exposing us both by being caught.”
His hand fell once more. Isabel pushed her backside into him, grinding against his hard cock.
“Eleven.”
“And what have we extracted from today’s session in discipline, my sweet fake wife?”
“No covert reconnaissance without consulting you first.”
“There’s my clever girl.” He delivered his last spank with a light nip to her jaw. Then he unfastened his trousers and nudged his cock against her. “I promised you a proper fucking, and I am, as ever, a man of my word. Ask nicely.”
“Please fuck me, Mr Ashford,” she moaned.
“Hold on tight, little thief.”
He thrust hard into her.
For a moment, Callahan pressed his forehead between Isabel’s shoulder blades, overwhelmed by the sensation of her, hot and tight and perfect.
“God,” he breathed. “You feel so good.”
He set a punishing pace. Each thrust was a confession, an absolution, a claiming. Isabel used the desk as leverage to back into him with every movement. Taking what he gave. Letting herself be claimed.
“Is this what you wanted?” Callahan growled, one hand fisted in her hair while the other gripped her hip hard enough to bruise. “To be fucked over Harrington’s desk?”
“It wasn’t in my plan,” Isabel gasped, “but I can’t say I’m disappointed about this turn of events.”
“No, you’re not, are you? Because the charmingMrs Ashfordis a deviant, isn’t she? I’ll bet my darling fake wife would love it if people saw her being fucked and used. Wouldn’t she?”
Her fingernails curled into the table. “God, the mouth on you.”
“You made me this way, Trouble,” he whispered, low and dark. “Every time I see you, I want to put you on your knees and keep you there.”
Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? He wanted to keep her. On her knees, bent over, fucking her, fighting with her. Any way he could get her.
Callahan’s hands roamed Isabel’s body, kissing every part he could reach, loving the way she arched into his touch. His other hand snaked around to where they were joined, rubbing firmly.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Right there.”
“That’s it.” He rubbed her faster. “Come, Isabel.”
