Page 28 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

“And I think what frightens you isn’t what I’m doing. It’s how much you’re enjoying it.”

I move my hand to her pussy, feeling the wetness forming there. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

She twists her head, glancing up at me with defiance in her eyes. “You don’t know me.”

“No, but I know you want this.”

“Fuck you.”

I move my hands away. “Fine, you want to stop? You want to walk out of here? Go sit at the table and be bored. Go ahead.”

She doesn’t move. Her eyes move away, her shoulders slumping a little. “Told you,” I add.

“Just because I’m staying doesn’t make you right.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Goddamit, can you at least pretend? I’ve got to keep some modesty, some dignity, haven’t I?”

“Your safe word is Birch Lake. If it gets too much, say that. No ambiguity—unless I hear that, I keep going.”

“How do I know you’ll stop if I say it?”

“You don’t. Just comes down to whether you can trust me, doesn’t it?”

I spank her again, stroking her clit a moment later, feeling her thighs squeeze my wrist as she grinds against my arm.

She says nothing.

I knew she wouldn’t.

I keep going, raining down spanks until both buttocks are bright red. “That’s what you get for lying,” I say, letting my fingers trail lines over her soft cheeks, the heat of them rising from her body, making me want her all the more.

“I can’t believe you did that,” she says, glancing up at me.

I expect to see fury there, but there’s something quite different in her face. It’s not anger. It’s not fear. It’s raw lust.

I touch the glistening wetness on her thighs. “You enjoyed that,” I say. “Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

“Go to hell,” she replies. “That hurt.”

“Wouldn’t have been much of a punishment if it didn’t. Maybe next time you’ll remember what happens to girls who lie.”

I run my hand between her legs, lowering my voice a little. “Nothing wrong with enjoying pain.”

She reaches up and slaps me. “Bet you loved that, then.”

I rub my cheek, smiling at her. “I like a fiery girl. Do it again.”

“Gladly.” She slaps me a second time, and I have to be in her. “Fuck,” I mutter, lifting her to her feet. “No one has ever slapped me and lived. You better be naked in thirty seconds, or I’m ripping that wedding dress off your body.

She looks like she might refuse, but that lust is still there in her eyes. “Yes, Sir,” she says with a slight curtsey like I’m royalty.

“I like that,” I reply. “You can do that more.”

She’s already undressing, slipping the gown off her shoulders and sliding it down her body.

She wears no bra underneath, and her tits spill free, making my cock strain in my pants.

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