Her pulse kicked up a notch. Punish her?
With methodical strides, he crossed the room and sat at the foot of the bed. “You’re gonna do two things for me.”
“Which are?”
“First, you’re gonna unlock that secret drawer of yours and get your nine-inch boyfriend.” He arched a brow, waited, and when she didn’t challenge him, he went on. “And then you’re gonna drape your sweet body over my lap and not speak unless spoken to. Understand?”
Heat engulfed her body. Oh sweet Lord. What the hell did he have in store for her tonight?
And why wasn’t she the least bit concerned by it?
Heart pounding, she walked over to the nightstand and grabbed the little silver key from the basket in the top drawer. Then she sank to her knees to unlock the bottom one, her fingers trembling as she pulled out the bright pink dildo. She’d never shown the sex toy to a man before, but she gave it to Jackson without a single complaint. Willingly. Shivering with anticipation as the naughty toy exchanged hands.
When he patted his jean-clad thighs, she swallowed, tried to bring some moisture to her arid mouth, then climbed onto his lap. He positioned her so that her knees and elbows rested on the bed, while her breasts were crushed against his thighs and her ass jutted out in the air.
Mia was so turned on she could hardly breathe. The lacy fabric of the merry widow scraped her bare breasts and teased her puckered nipples, and her thong was already soaked from her excitement.
“W-what are you going to do?” she murmured.
His sharp voice reprimanded her. “I said no talkin’, sugar. That’s two extra smacks right there.”
“Smacks?” she couldn’t help but echo.
“And lookey here, that’s three more.”
She craned her head to look at him. “Out of curiosity, how many ‘smacks’ did I start with?”
“Ten.” He smiled pleasantly. “But that question just cost you five more, so we’re at twenty now.”
She gulped.
Jackson’s hand was warm as he glided it over her bottom and toyed with the dental-floss strap of fabric nestled between her cheeks. His touch was so gentle she relaxed beneath it, but just as the tension left her body, his hand disappeared, then came down to slap her ass.
She jerked. Opened her mouth to protest, but then she remembered the no-talking rule.
His pleased chuckle hung in the air. “That’s a good girl. You’re gonna stay nice and quiet until I say otherwise.”
The second smack connected with only one cheek, the third bringing a sting to the other. Fourth and fifth used more force, no doubt leaving marks on her bare ass.
“What a sweet little bottom you have, Mia,” he muttered before smacking it a sixth time.
If someone had told her she would enjoy getting the hell spanked out of her, she would’ve told them they were insane. But here she was, completely at Jackson’s mercy, growing more and more aroused each time his palm connected with her buttocks.
The seventh slap elicited a soft moan from her lips. The eighth had her wiggling her bottom in anticipation for the ninth. Number ten was the hardest yet, slicing the air with a loud thwacking noise and bringing a dull ache to her butt.
Jackson’s mocking voice echoed in the room. “What number are we on? I seem to have forgotten.”
She couldn’t get a word out thanks to the arousal clamped around her throat.
“What number?” he repeated sternly, his free hand tugging on her hair.
“Eleven,” she panted out. “Eleven!”
“Good girl.” He spanked her again, then rubbed away the ache with the light graze of his fingertips. “Now count it out, sugar.”
She was gasping for air now. “I…can’t.”
“And why is that, Mia?”
His palm struck her flesh and she shuddered uncontrollably. “Because I’m so turned on I can’t concentrate!”
“Don’t care. You’re countin’ it out. Starting now.”
The number “twelve” flew out of her mouth on his next hard stroke.
“Thatta girl.”
Another smack.
Her head started to spin. “Thirteen.”
And another one.
“Fourteen.”
Her ass was on fire. So was her pussy. Every inch of her, in fact, sizzled with overpowering need that had her seeing stars.
In between fifteen and sixteen, Jackson hooked his finger beneath the thin strap of her thong and tugged hard, causing the lacy fabric to tighten over her sex.
Mia moaned as a shockwave surged through her clit.
On the seventeenth smack, he tore the thong right off her body, muttered something about “replacin’ it” and skimmed one finger along the crease of her ass.
“Eighteen,” she wheezed, already anticipating—craving—the next one.
But he threw her for a loop—number nineteen was infinitely gentle, swiftly followed by him pushing his finger into her sopping-wet channel.
“Oh God!” Pleasure blasted into her, nearly knocking her out of his lap.
His finger disappeared so quickly she almost broke down in tears.