She worked diligently to do as he asked, and when she stilled, he admired her flawless skin and beautiful curves. Two things she never put on public display. Until her night on stage. But this time it was only for him.
“I said all of your clothes.” She was still only half naked.
She obeyed, removing the small scraps of lace. He had to hold back his desire. That night on stage, she’d been partially covered, her sex hidden behind the skimpiest fabric imaginable, her pert nipples covered by tassels. But now, she was fully exposed. All of her. Every inch available for his viewing, for his taking.
“Find an apron,” he commanded.
Without hesitation she rummaged through a drawer beside the stove.
“Slowly,” he ordered. He wanted to enjoy the way her breasts swayed back and forth with her actions. To appreciate the unobstructed view he had between her legs.
Unfortunately, she was quick to find what she was looking for. She pulled out a pink apron.
“Put it on and come over to me.”
Her confidence had started to wane. A slight tremble shook her hands when she placed the strap over her head and secured the ties around her waist. Her boots clicked on the tile, and with each step closer, the scent of orange, of Veronica, surrounded him.
Positioning her in front of the kitchen island, he aligned his body with the back of hers. She pushed back against him, putting pressure on his aching erection.
He brushed his fingers across her skin, starting at her neck and moving down to her shoulders, then her arms, finally grasping her hands and placing them firmly on the counter.
The smooth line of her back was so delicate. The two dimples above her bottom incredibly sexy. And the perfect round globes of her ass, with the softest luminescent skin he’d ever seen, was beyond his dreams.
He reached for the spatula, his own hands trembling with excitement at the knowledge that his fantasy was finally about to come true.
He ran the utensil slowly down her back in a straight line against her spine. When he got to her bottom, he traced down the crease. Her response was a shiver and a tiny whimper.
“Bend over. Place your forearms on the counter and spread your legs.”
She was a model student. Minimum hesitation. Maximum obedience.
When she was ready, he tightened his grip around the handle. He stepped to the side, taking position, as if stepping up to home plate. She glanced over her shoulder and their eyes met. She knew. This fantasy wasn’t about pain. She knew he would never physically hurt her. It was about his control and her obedience. And she wanted this, too—needed it as much as he did.
He took aim and followed through, the spatula hitting her bottom for the very first time with a thwack.
She gasped and tensed the moment it struck, but it was more sound and sting than actual pain. Her hands fisted against the granite counter but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the warm crimson glow that spread across her skin.
He made contact a second time. Her gasp was louder, the tension of her body less noticeable. She opened herself up, laid her trust in his hands, knowing he would push her only so far, to the point where the sting turned into a pleasure she’d never experienced.
“Veronica, look at me.”
She turned, letting her chin rest against her shoulder, and he was taken aback by the acceptance in her gaze.
He’d never met a woman he felt comfortable enough to play with. To lower his guard and let her see this side of his personality—the controlling, demanding, kinky side. He’d never expected Veronica to be the one to cater to his sexual fantasies. Never in a million years. But the light in her eyes made him wonder…he may not have been the only one harboring these fantasies.
He returned his attention to her luscious behind. Each time the spatula made contact she pushed her bottom back, her gasps turning into groans of need. The sight of her skin, the sound of her enjoyment, it all sent an ache to places he desperately needed to sate, and gave him a rush of power he’d never felt before. The kind that made him want to give her anything and everything, as long as it made her feel good. The thought of being the person responsible for her pleasure was overwhelming, but exciting.
Even mor
e exciting was the fact that she was enjoying this. A lot more than he’d anticipated. And he was even more shocked when he noticed her hand creep down between her legs. When she cupped her sex, three fingers disappeared between her folds and started to move, manipulating her most sensitive area.
But as the man in charge of her pleasure for the night, he hadn’t told her she could remove her hands from the counter.
He took the spatula and slid it between her thighs. With steady force, he moved her hand away, which made her whimper.
“Please. Every time you smack my ass, it spasms,” she said breathily.
“What spasms?” He smacked her again when she remained silent. “Say it.”