Page 10 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

The moment the front door slammed shut, she was dropped to her feet, back pressed firmly against the unforgiving wood, both of her wrists captured in one large hand and pinned above her head. Using his knee, he shoved her legs apart, opening her to him. His free hand captured her pussy, thick fingers working her frantically toward her release.

“Come for me, brat. Come all over Daddy’s hand.”

The gruff order sent her flying. Pleasure exploded within her, as if on command. It shot through her, destroying her from the inside out. And still his fingers never stopped, wringing every last spasm from her body until she went limp against the door.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back against the wood. “That was fucking incredible.”

“That was just a sneak peek, baby girl. We’re just getting started.”

He really was going to kill her. Oh, well. There were worse ways to go than being pleasured to death by the man of her dreams.

With that declaration, he lifted her up and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her up the stairs.

His bedroom was simple but masculine, so much like him it might have been amusing if she wasn’t so drained from the punishment and pleasure he’d inflicted on her already. She bounced when he dropped her rather unceremoniously onto the thick mattress.

“Let’s see.” Stepping back, he pulled her folded-up survey from his pocket. “We’ve almost checked off everything in your ‘yes’ column. Spanking, public play, orgasm denial.” His grin was quick and wicked. “Doubting any of your choices yet, brat?”

Matching him grin for grin, she propped herself up on her elbows. “Not a bit.”

“Good. Ready to check something else off your list?”

“Like what?”

Instead of answering, he turned and disappeared into a large walk-in closet. Curious, she rolled onto all fours and crawled to the end of the bed, craning her neck to see what he was up to.

A moment later, he emerged with what looked like a handful of silk scarves. He stopped in the doorway, one dark brown eyebrow rising when he spotted her kneeling on the bed. “How do you feel about leashes?”

“What?”

“Never mind. That can wait. Dress off, then I want you on your back, arms and legs spread.”

Putting the odd “leash” question out of her mind for now, she arranged herself as directed, surprised to discover her core tightening again as he tied a scarf around her wrist and attached it to a bedpost. How the hell could she still want more after he’d so thoroughly wrecked her just minutes before?

“I like you like this.”

“Trussed up like a turkey?”

He tied off the last scarf and gave her thigh a sharp smack. Instinctively, she jerked away, but her foot barely moved. A smirk lifted the corner of his lips. “Helpless.”

A flush spread over her entire body. “Are you going to hurt me, Daddy?”

“That depends.” His head cocked to the side as he let his eyes roam her naked form. “Are you my good girl, or are you a brat?”

Memories of his hand and paddle lighting her ass on fire sent a flash of heat straight to her core. “Brat. Definitely a brat.”

Hunger darkened his eyes. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He whipped off his t-shirt, revealing a body hardened by hours at the gym. A UFO landing outside couldn’t have stolen her attention as he stripped.

Ethan in all his glory was better than anything her imagination had managed to conjure.

“Like what you see, brat?”

She had to lick her lips to speak. “You’re okay.”

Her response won her a laugh before he climbed onto the bed and straddled her stomach. “What’s your safe word, Izzy?”

“Red.”

“Good girl. You can use yellow too if you just want to pause instead of stop entirely.” Rough fingers feathered over her nipples. “You have nipple play marked as ‘yes’ on your questionnaire.”

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