Page 40 of I'm sorry, Princess
Big, brown, and doe-like. I wonder what they’ll look like when she’s crying for me. When she’s drooling, her mascara smudged, my cock so deep she forgets her own name.
Her breath catches in her throat. She’s frozen, good girl, and I can feel her pulse racing under my fingertips.
“Now bend over,” I whisper, my lips grazing her ear. My breath fans over her neck, and she shivers.
Fucking hell. That reaction goes straight to my cock.
Her lips part again, and for a second I think she’s about to obey me. But then she snaps.
Her hand flies up, and she slaps me, quick, sharp, palm stinging red.
I barely feel it, but I catch her wrist before she can try again. I tighten my grip just enough to remind her who she’s dealing with.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she growls, her voice trembling, but she’s still glaring at me. Defiant. Brave little thing.
I lean down, dragging my mouth close to her ear again. My cock presses against her abdomen, and she knows it.
She fucking knows it.
“That’ll be six spanks now.” My voice is silk-wrapped violence, soft but edged like a razor.
Her other hand twitches, like she’s about to slap me again. I catch that wrist too, pinning both hands behind her back with ease.
“Wanna go for seven, princess?” I murmur against her neck, letting my lips ghost over her skin. She smells like vanilla and something sweeter underneath, fear mixed with desire. That combination makes my cock twitch.
Before she can answer, I spin her around and press her tiny body flat against the desk.
Bent over just like I wanted.
“Lorenzo…” Her voice cracks when she says my name.
It’s a fucking plea, and my cock throbs painfully in my jeans.
Her skirt rides up with barely a tug, exposing white lace stretched tight over her ass.
For fuck’s sake.
She came here dressed like this. For me.
That silk blouse, those fuck-me heels, her lips glossed, her hair curled soft like she’s innocent when she’s anything but.
I trail my palm up her thigh, my fingers sliding over smooth skin. Her muscles tense, but she doesn’t move away.
Good girl.
“This isn’t how you dressed for your first appointment, Serena,” I whisper, my lips right at the shell of her ear. “This look? This was for me, wasn’t it?”
She’s trembling under my touch, but she stays quiet, biting her lip so hard it’ll bleed.
“Say it,” I demand, my hand smoothing over the curve of her ass, fingertips teasing the edge of her thong. “I want to hear you say it.”
When she doesn’t answer, I give her the first slap, sharp, precise, right over the lace. The sound echoes off the walls, and her body jerks under my hand.
Her breath hitches. But she doesn’t tell me to stop.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I growl against her neck, kissing the spot just below her ear, “you’re in so much trouble.”
I hear the venom in her voice, but it only makes me harder.
