Page 290 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
I arch my hips toward him, daring. “You’ll know if you’re doing it wrong.”
For a beat, he stares, and then his hand comes down again. I jolt forward with a gasp, heat rippling through me, and before I could catch my breath—
Smack. Smack.
My body rocks with each one, pressing into the mattress and pushing back into his hand without thinking.
“Holy shit.” A laugh breaks out of him. “You actually like this.”
“Hit me again,” I snap.
He obliges.
Smack.
I let out a moan that chokes his laugh.
“Harder.”
He hesitates and then gives me one that cracks louder than the rest. The sting is blooming hot. I yelp, but the sound melts into a throaty whimper I can’t control.
“Oh, fuck,” he growls, with what very much sounds like a part moan.
I twist just enough to look back at him over my shoulder. His cheeks burn, and his brows knit so tightly together. But there’s enjoyment spread across his features.
“You liked that.” It’s not a question.
“Did you like it?” His hand hovers over me, twitching like he can’t decide whether to spank me again or grab me everywhere at once.
“I loved it.”
“You loved it?” He doesn’t wait for my answer, and his hand lands firmly.
Smack.
The sting catches my breath, but the way he lingers, pressing his palm into the heat he’d left behind, makes my whole body shiver.
“You like being marked up?” His voice is rougher now, the hesitance edge replaced by heavier teasing.
My answer is a sound I can’t control, my hips tilting back against his touch, begging without words.
“Fuck,” he mutters, like he can’t believe me.
Then his hand came down again—harder, sharper.
I cry out, my fingers clutching the sheets. The sting throbs hot, spreading, and before I can catch my breath, another lands on the opposite cheek.
I gasp, rocking forward, the ache between my thighs growing.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re—” His words cut off as he spanks me again, the sound cracking through the room, and my moan following right after.
Left cheek.
Right cheek.
Each one sharp, stinging, then soothed by his palm or the drag of his fingers over my heated skin. I didn’t expect to enjoy this so much. It’s almost embarrassing my ache for more.
Then his other hand slides between my thighs, cupping me, pressing into the heat that’s been building with every smack.
