“I’ll fucking kill you for this!” I scream.
I want to kill him for making me weak.
He makes a tsking sound. “Temper, temper, princess,” he says snidely. “After all, isn’t that what got you in this position in the first place?”
“Fuck you, you dickless bastard,” I spit.
Yeah, it’s not my most creative insult, but I’m just so worked up I can’t think clearly.
My cheeks sting and the ghost of his hand crashing against them has me clenching my thighs together.
If he were any other man, this could actually be fun. I could probably actually enjoy this. But he’s not. He’s fucking Simon, the man who has become the bane of my existence.
“Have it your way, Meredith,” he sighs.
His hand gives my cheek a hard squeeze and I grind my teeth together as his fingers pinch into my skin.
It’s both awful and amazing at the same time. It’s like the pain mixing with the pleasure is creating an entirely new sensation.
I like it so much I instantly hate it.
“This is for trying to run away,” Simon says coolly as his fingers release me and his hand lifts.
I have only a split second to prepare before his hand cracks against my ass again. It’s so hard I nearly bite my tongue off to keep from crying out.
“This is for biting me on the shoulder.”
His hand cracks against me again and this time the pain explodes across my cheek and radiates across my entire bottom.
“This is for the nine fucking stitches,” he says, angry emotion starting to leak into his voice as his heavy palm comes down.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I must have thinner skin than I realized because that last one really hurt!
“This is for biting my tongue,” he growls.
His hand cracks against me again and my entire backside burns like it’s on fire. But worst of all my core throbs, wanting, aching, and begging for more.
But it’s not the pain I want. It’s his slip of emotion… His weakness. His anger.
His hand lingers on my warm flesh. Caressing it as if he’s trying to both soothe it and cause the pain to sink in at the same time.
“Shall I go on?”
I shake my head back and forth.
His hand roams over my cheeks and his fingers are dangerously close to discovering how turned on I am.
I try to squirm away from him in a last ditch effort to protect myself. If he knows… God, if he knows, who’s telling what he’ll do with the information.
No doubt, he’ll use it against me.
“If you want me to stop, princess, I suggest you apologize. I could go on all night…”
His grip suddenly tightens and my fists are shoved harder into my spine as he pulls me back.
I pant against the bed as he pulls my ass higher in the air.
He’s giving me the power to end this. To slink away with the last shreds of my dignity in intact.
But apologize? Seriously? He wants me to apologize for the things I did to protect myself?
I can’t do it. Fuck him. I just can’t.
“Fuck you, Simon. Your idea of dire consequences is a fucking joke. Seriously? Spanking me like I’m child? Grow some balls… Oh, wait, that’s right. You can’t because they’re in Matthew’s pocket!”
“Fine,” Simon tries to say like he’s disappointed, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement in his voice. “Have it your way.”
Pressed so close to him, I can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Oh shit, is he getting as turned on as I am?
His hand roams over my ass, exploring as if he’s mapping out where he wants to spank me next. Then, before I can say or do anything to distract him, his hand is suddenly between both cheeks.
We both freeze. Me in fear and him with sudden realization.
“Fuck, you’re soaking wet,” he finally hisses.
My shame, my mortification is so great, I don’t know what to say.
His hand pushes in, fighting through the squeeze of my thighs as I try to lock my knees together. I want to both shove him out and welcome him.
“Do you like me punishing your ass, princess?”
His fingers find my folds, lightly exploring them.
“No!” I lie.
“Liar,” he hisses as the tips of his fingers brush against my clit.
My hips jerk forward and I groan into the bed.
This is the worst fucking thing that could happen.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, giving my clit a flick.
“Yes!” I gasp out as I buck, trying to dislodge his hand.
He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Lying again, Meredith.”
“Go fuck yourself, Simon!”
His fingers pause and then he begins to drag them away.
And I’ve never felt more conflicted in my life. On one hand, I do want him to stop because the last thing I need is the emotional chaos him making me come will create. But on the other hand, I really, really want to come. And fuck, I want his crazy fingers to do it.