She stopped sucking his finger and the sensation and the wet sound of her mouth releasing him made him shift in discomfort. The woman was fucking evil.
“Sucking,” she said. “I like to suck on things sometimes. It makes me feel better. Don’t you like it?” Big brown eyes regarded him quizzically.
His brain stuttered to a standstill, and he watched in breathless fascination as her pretty mouth wrapped around his finger again. Her tongue explored the tip of his finger, the edge of his nail, then she was suckling again and he was in imminent danger of coming in his jeans.
“You’re already good at sucking cock, but if you did it the way you do this no man would stand a chance against you.”
She didn’t respond, other than to turn her sweet gaze to his, and continue her sensual assault on his finger. Apparently it turned her on too, because soon she was wriggling in his lap, towel fallen open, rubbing her sexy ass against his rock-hard dick.
“Ophelia, stop.” When she didn’t comply, he pulled his finger from her mouth and grabbed her by the hips to hold her still. She whimpered and squirmed, and was generally disobedient and distracting. “Stop now or I’m going to punish you.”
She mewled and pressed against him, kissing his mouth.
Such a bad girl. He kissed her once because he couldn’t help himself, then held her away by the shoulders.
“Spankings are only one way to punish a naughty girl,” he warned.
“Do whatever you want,” she replied. The heaving of her distractingly perfect breasts almost threw him off.
“I always do.”
He stood up, dumping her off his lap, but making sure she slid down his body somewhat so she didn’t hurt herself. She squeaked in surprise when she hit the floor.
“Crawl to that corner.”
She frowned at him and tried to rise to her feet. He grabbed her by the back of the hair and forced her back down, watching her reaction in case this was too harsh for her.
“I said crawl, princess.”
Her scowl was hilarious. He didn’t laugh, but he did let go of her hair when she didn’t try to get up again.
“If I’m a princess, why do I have to crawl?” she asked indignantly.
“Because princesses still need to be good little girls.” He swatted her bottom, and she gasped, her arms buckling beneath her.
Ophelia facedown and ass up, presenting everything she owned to him, was almost his undoing. The next blow he landed on her posterior connected with a stinging crack, and she yowled, got back up on all fours and crawled toward the corner. The perfect red outline of his hand stood out on her pale flesh in stark relief.
He followed her to the corner, because how could he not?
“Stand up and face the corner.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
After giving him one last incredulous glance, she got to her feet and did as she was told.
Forcing himself not to give in too easily, he sat in the nearby arm chair and waited, watching. She glanced over her shoulder at him once, but hastily turned her gaze back to the wall.
A few times she sighed, and by the ten-minute mark she was shifting and making sounds of annoyance.
Silently, he rose from the chair and moved up behind her.
“Is there a problem?”
She startled and laughed nervously. “No, Luke.”
“No?”