Page 33 of Kenan's Mate
I lift the glass to my lips and start tilting it back.
“If you drink a single drop of that wine, little human, I will make you sorely regret it.”
I hesitate, though I don’t put the glass down. I’m almost certain he’s teasing, but then perhaps I shouldn’t risk inviting his wrath.Don’t be stupid, Laylah. Put the glass down.But my hand starts shaking and the wine tips across my tongue before I have a chance to obey.
Oh my God.
He turns and strides toward me. He takes the glass and sets it on the table then touches a finger to my lips. When he brings his hand away, his finger is stained red with the wine. He lifts an eyebrow at me in censure, his mouth pressing in a firm line as his jaw tightens.
My stomach drops to the floor. Somewhere, in the midst of all our cheerful banter during dinner, I’d forgotten how large he is compared to me. And how absolutely terrifying he is when tested. On Earth, had I committed a transgression as minor as drinking a few drops of wine when I’m not supposed to, no one would particularly care.
I study Kenan’s dark expression, trying to determine whether he’s truly angry. Even when he’s in a good mood, he doesn’t always appear happy. He presses himself against me, and I gasp as the hardness of his erection touches my stomach. Through the layers of our clothing, heat emanates from his huge manhood.
He sighs and twists his fingers in my hair, but he doesn’t pull hard. “Go upstairs and take your dress off, Laylah. You’ve been a naughty girl, and you’re going to go over my knee for a long, hard spanking on your bare bottom.”
Still holding me, he smacks me lightly across the face.
I gasp and our eyes meet.
He still hasn’t released me, and, for a reason I can’t fathom, that light slap on my cheek felt…like some kind of shared intimacy. Maybe because he could hit me so much harder, but he only gave me that light, very careful slap. All while he’s holding me close and his erection is pressed to my stomach. He smacks my cheek a second time, then a third time, barely hard enough for the impact of flesh hitting flesh to resound in the night, before he releases me entirely.
I rush upstairs, rubbing the faint sting from my cheek as my heart rises in my throat. I don’t know if I’m really in trouble, or if this is some kind of Kleaxian sex play. He’s always been rough taking me in bed, and once he promised to hurt me sometimes simply because it pleases him to redden my bottom and watch me squirm. I hope that’s the scenario about to happen, because the thought of ending what has become a beautiful day with a real punishment brings tears to my eyes.
I berate myself for the silly stunt with the wine. What the fuck had I been thinking to even play at disobeying him? I hope he does nothing more than slap my thighs a little, as he’d done several weeks ago while forcing me to stand still in the center of the room while he tormented me in the most delicious and devious of ways. But then he’s promised to turn me over his knee, and my tummy flips over and over again, because deep down I know I’ll be getting worse than a few lightly stinging slaps to my thighs, or my ass for that matter.
For a brief moment, I cup my bottom over my dress and wonder what it will feel like—receiving a spanking from Kenan. Will it hurt, but still increase my need for him? I can’t deny the throbbing below my waist at the prospect of being turned over his knee for play, or even for punishment.
I’m naked by the time his heavy footfalls echo in the hallway. Naked, trembling, and filled with uncertainty. If I don’t know Kenan well enough to surmise whether or not he’s being teasing, I ought not test him.
He enters the room and slowly circles me, twice, his stance tall and his muscles tensed. His black locks rest upon his broad shoulders in a haphazard manner, as if he’d climbed the stairs in a hurry, anxious to teach me a lesson. I want to ask if I’m really in trouble, but I’m too choked up to speak, my pulse racing faster with each second.
When he stops in front of me and holds my face in his large, powerful hands, my shaking increases.
“I want you to place yourself over my lap, Laylah, and offer your bottom up for your spanking.” He releases my chin and moves to sit on the bed, then pats his thigh, giving me a pointed look. One dark eyebrow is raised, and nothing about his expression seems playful.
As I walk over to him, I pray he’s not angry and is just a good actor. Because the bed rests so high off the floor, he lifts me up beside him and then I maneuver myself over his lap. My breaths come in quick, shallow puffs, and my heart nearly beats outside my chest.
But, despite my nervous fear, the growing ache pulses harder and faster between my legs. Before I part my thighs and lift my bottom up, in the manner I imagine I’m expected to offer myself for punishment, the heated slickness of my arousal escapes my pussy.
The sharp intake of his breath reveals I’m having an effect on him, as does the mounting hardness of his massive erection. He cups my right ass cheek and gives it a firm squeeze.
“You were a very naughty girl, weren’t you, Laylah?”
A shuddering exhale leaves me. “Yes, sir.” God, I’m getting so wet. There’s no hiding the cresting level of my arousal. My face heats with embarrassment when he touches the opening of my pussy, at the core where all my moisture is gathering.
He spreads my wetness around, trailing it over the smooth lips of my spread sex.
“I’m proud of you for walking to me and placing yourself over my lap, little human,” he says, still caressing my aching center. “Should you earn a real punishment, this is how I expect you to behave. Should you earn a real punishment, I will expect you to submit, even if you are frightened, because you are my mate and I am yours.”
I chance a peek over my shoulder. Relief fills me when he gives me a brief, encouraging smile, before he gestures for me to lower my head back onto the bed.
“I am going to spank you now, Laylah, and it’s going to hurt. I’m going to make you cry.”
“But this isn’t a real punishment. You said…” Panic swirls through me, and I squirm over his lap.
“If it were a real punishment, a serious punishment, I would be taking my belt to your bottom or your breasts. Or I’d fuck your face and take away your ability to speak, to make you feel especially chastised.”
“But you said you’d make me cry.” I bite my quivering lower lip, trying to hold back my emotion.
