Being Me
Page 37

I am breathing hard with the restraint I use to stop myself from reaching for him, and the muscles of my sex clench so tightly it hurts. “Chris,” I plead when I can take no more.
He rewards my urgency by licking my clit. Yes, please, more, I think, but do not dare say out loud, for fear he will do the opposite. I moan and another lick follows and it’s nothing shy of sweet bliss when his mouth closes down around me. He suckles my swollen nub, drawing deeply on my sensitive flesh and using his tongue at just the right moments until I am going insane. Sensations ripple through me and I have no willpower, no control. I tumble into orgasm and he immediately pulls his mouth from me, denying me full satisfaction, leaving my muscles clenching in partial release.
My knees buckle but he is on his feet, wrapping his arm around my waist, and holding me up. He lifts me into his arms and starts walking toward his bedroom. His words replay in my head. Come before I tell you to, and I’ll spank you right now. Chris doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean, and my heart races at the certainty of my punishment.
Fourteen
Chris carries me into his bedroom and I find I am far more aroused than fearful of the spanking. I am too lost in my desire to crawl inside the deep, dark secrets that are Chris Merit, to care. This look inside his psyche is what I have craved, what I thought would take much longer to discover. I’m fully aware that his anger, and his possessive need to protect me, have opened a door to his darker side, and I revel in my ability to create such things in him. I’m not beyond seeing how our responses to each other reflect how damaged and messed up we both are, but I choose not to care right now.
Chris sets me down in the center of the room with the side of the bed to my back and the bathroom directly in front of me. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My dress is gaping at the top and the bottom is at my waist, leaving me exposed and looking ridiculously not sexy.
Attempting to tug it down, Chris comes to my aid, shoving the straps to my dress and bra down my shoulders and over my hips. The material pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but thigh-highs and high heels.
I step out of my clothes and Chris catches me around the waist, his strong arms encasing me, and I melt into the hard lines of his body. He lifts me, kicks my clothes away, and slowly eases me back to the ground without releasing me.
Our eyes meet and hold, and there is no mistaking the predatory gleam in his, or the anticipation charging the air between us. “I told you not to come until you had permission,” he murmurs, his voice husky, affected.
I scrape my bottom lip nervously. “I’ve never been good at following rules.”
His eyes glint with amber flecks. “I’m quite aware of that. And I might just enjoy it more than if you did.”
My fingers curl around his shirt. “Because you want to spank me?” I ask, cutting my gaze, embarrassed by my own question.
His finger slides under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “And you want me to.”
“I . . . I don’t know what I want.”
He turns me to face the bed, his hand settling possessively on my stomach, and the thick ridge of his erection nuzzles my backside. “Then it’s time you find out.” His voice is a seductive purr and his lips brush my shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine. “Don’t turn around.”
My panic is instant. “But—”
“You’ll know before it happens,” he promises, and his hands travel a path from my waist to my bare backside, where he caresses and lightly smacks one cheek.
I yelp at the unexpected sensation and I hear the soft rumble of his deep, sexy laughter vibrate through me from behind. He is no longer angry, no longer driven by the emotion I thought was dictating his actions, and yet he still intends to spank me. I don’t know how to process this and I’m too distracted and nervous to try. I hear the rustle of clothing as he undresses and I try to predict everything he is doing, for fear of being surprised. Yes, he’s told me he’ll warn me before he spanks me, but for all I know, it will be three seconds before it happens. He seems to be taking forever, or perhaps time is ticking by in slow motion. I can’t take it anymore. I start to turn and he catches me around the waist, the thick pulse of his erection pressing against my hip.
“We really do have to work on the following-orders thing,” he murmurs, lifting me without warning, and setting me on top of the podium supporting the bed. “You’re going to climb onto the center of the bed on your hands and knees, Sara. Once you’re there, I’m going to spank you only six times, fast and hard, and then f**k you until we both come. Count the blows and you’ll know when it’s about to end. Understand?”
My reason for welcoming this spanking finds me in this moment. I’ve sensed from the beginning not only that is Chris able to understand me, but that he alone, because of the connection I feel for him, can help me deal with the “me” I have left floundering deep in some secret compartment of my mind. He’s forcing me to face that me, yet he’s also my escape when it becomes too much. Tonight that escape is going to a new level. He is taking me to a place where the pain of my past becomes pain that is here and now and somehow morphs into pleasure. I hope.
“Say no and we stop,” Chris murmurs gently by my ear.
“Yes.” My voice is hoarse and I repeat my reply in a stronger voice. “Yes. I understand what’s going to happen.”
“Say it so I know you’re sure.”
I wet my lips. “I’m going to get on the bed on my hands and knees. You’ll spank me and then we f**k. I’m supposed to count to six.”