He gratified me by spanking me several more times. “This—is what you—get for—disobeying me!”
“Oh, please!” I pretended I hated it. “Please don’t punish me anymore! I know I was bad. I won’t do it again!”
Lazarus barked. Maybe he thought Levon was really hurting me. But he must’ve witnessed scenes like this many a time!
“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet,” growled Levon. Now he pulled my panties down, rubbing his hand with admiration over the globe of my ass. “Nice and pink. But not nearly red enough.”
“No!” I squealed.
Now after a slap, Levon would allow his fingers to trail into my ass crack. Oh, no. Not the ass. But his fingers traveled farther, right into my slit. That’s when I realized I was wet. The spanking had made me juicier than an orange, and his fingers parted me like sections of an orange.
He tickled my slit as though getting his fingers wet for—oh, no. Not the ass. No anal stuff. Again I was thankfully wrong. He used the slickness to lubricate my clit, already pulsating and lengthening eagerly.
And he talked. Boy, did he talk. He’d played this game before. “My little lamb is getting hot when I spank her. Is this making you hot, my little lamb? Sure is making me hot. Can you feel my hard-on against your pussy? You’ve been a bad, bad lamb.”
“Oh! Is that your penis?” I took on an innocent voice. “I didn’t know penises could get so big.”
Slap! Slap! Each spanking was accompanied by a swipe over my clit with his fingers. Soon I was genuinely squirming with frustration and lust, spreading my legs to give him access. “You’ve never been around a man’s big dick. Just those infantile schoolboys you play with. Before I’m done I’m gonna be sliding this big prick into your little lamb’s pussy.”
Was he serious? We still hadn’t fucked—sort of savoring it for later, I think. There was enough to do without fucking, the glorious push and pull of toying with each other. We were stimulating each other to such heights it would be a wonder we didn’t spontaneously combust when we finally fucked. But I didn’t think it would happen in a sandy grove by the aptly named Virgin River.
“Oh, master!” I knew I sounded like the genie in I Dream of Jeannie, but I couldn’t think of what else to call him. I’d never seen Fifty Shades of Grey. That shit didn’t play in Utah. “You haven’t punished me nearly enough for what I did!”
“So you agree with me.” Slap! Slap! “You know you’ve done bad, but you do it anyway to get punished.”
“Because I”—Slap!—“enjoy the punishment.” It was like trying to talk while hiccupping. Only way more fun.
“You do? Maybe I should withhold it, then, as a further punishment.” His hand went still, his palm lying across my blazing bum.
“No! I mean yes! I mean—” I didn’t know what I meant. Hormones had slammed shut the door to rational thought. I just wanted his fingers back on my clit.
Levon answered my prayers, strumming my clit again. My thighs were now so far apart I had to balance on my fingertips in the sand. “Only little lambs who follow commands get to experience the final bliss of orgas—whoa.”
“What?” I raised my head on a weary neck. Lazarus was barking up a storm now. Levon’s fingers had stilled again, and he looked at a distant spot beyond my shoulder. I cranked my head around.
“Oh, that’s just Dingo. He’s just come down to pee. Or something. Don’t stop!”
Dingo was looking around with a funny expression. And it wasn’t the funny expression of someone who had just seen two adults engage in edgeplay.
“Wait,” Levon whispered. He tried to get to his feet while lifting me with his hands encircling my waist. “Something’s wrong.”
Standing, I struggled to pull up my pants. “I’ll say. I didn’t get to come. Why let Dingo stop us?”
“No, I mean something’s wrong with Dingo. Here’s your bra. I can tell. I’ve developed this sixth sense for knowing when something is off with my fellow men. Dingo!”
Spying us, Dingo broke into a run. Or as fast as he could dash in sneakers in sand.
“Thanks a lot! I haven’t even gotten my bra hooked!” I was that sort of irritable you get when you aren’t able to complete an orgasm. Bad. Irritable. Downright nasty.
“Lazarus!” Dingo said first, rushing to the dog.
“I’m over here,” said Levon.
Dingo looked at us. I was just scrabbling to get my arms into my sweater. “Oh! Listen Levon, you’ve got to get back up right away. Dust Bunny just got a call from the security guard at his mine.”
“What happened?”
“I should let him tell you.”
“No. Spit it out.” Levon was arranging his erection inside his jeans. Casually, as though Dingo were one of his men and they did that in front of each other all the time.
Dingo looked at me. “He caught some guys wearing masks trying to scale the fence to get inside the property, over by the Streaked Wall Bench.”