Nevertheless, my ass is stinging by the time I get to ten. He tosses the crop aside and leans over me. “That’s good,” he murmurs, his hand coming out to run over my heated skin. “Such a good girl, Kensie.”
I shiver at his words, liking them too much.
That’s not what this is supposed to be, though. I didn’t come here for sweet words and gentle caresses. I came here because I need to be punished.
I wiggle my ass a little, hoping to entice him to get back to it. “I’m not feeling like a very good girl right now, sir.”
He chuckles softly. “No, my girl is feeling bratty, isn’t she?”
I order my body not to react to him calling me his girl. Or the fact that he’s still running his hands over me, his touch gentle on my skin.
What the hell is he doing? This is bordering on sweet. And sweet has never been part of our deal.
“Sir,” I whine, wiggling some more. “Please.”
“Be still,” he commands, that low edge to his voice that I love so much.
I wiggle even more, sticking my ass back. Maybe if I’m bratty enough, he’ll give me what a want—a real spanking.
“I said be still,” he grunts, smacking me. I bite back a moan at the sensation. That’s more like it.
But then he steps back and I nearly scream out loud. Why is he stopping?
“Who’s in charge in this room, Kensie?” he asks.
“You are, sir,” I manage to bite out, even though there’s a huge part of me that wants to call him names, scream, do something to make him lose control and give me the punishment that I need.
“That’s right.” Suddenly he’s in front of me, crouching low so I can see his face. His eyes are hard, jaw set. “And that means I decide what happens to that ass. I decide if you get spanked tonight, and how I want to do it. I decide when we fuck and I definitely decide when you come. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, trying so hard to tamp down the frustration. There’s a part of me that feels close to tears, and I’m desperate to hold them back. If I start crying on his bench, I know there’s no way he’s going to continue.
His face softens. “You’re very frustrated tonight, aren’t you?”
I nod once, sure that if I speak, I’ll break.
Again, he runs a gentle hand over my skin, along my neck this time, and I don’t know if I want to shy away from his hand or sink into the touch.
“Okay, kitten,” he murmurs, pressing a light kiss to the side of my mouth. “Why don’t you tell me what you want then, and we’ll see what we can do.”
“I want your belt,” I blurt out, and his eyebrows go up. He’s never hit me with such a painful implement.
“Okay. What else?”
“I want…” the rest is harder to say, harder to even organize these chaotic thoughts in my mind.
“You can tell me,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to my mouth. “You’re being such a good girl, you can?—”
“Not that,” I interrupt, then curse myself. Interrupting a Dom is a huge no in this place. I know better.
But Grant’s eyes remain impassive, studying me. “Not what, exactly?”
“That…those words. Praise.” I say it like it’s a dirty word. “I don’t want praise.”
His eyebrows jump up. “You usually enjoy praise when we’re fucking. Your cunt gets so nice and wet.”
Heat rushes to my center, as it always does when this man uses such deliciously naughty words.
I fight to focus. “Not tonight,” I whisper, praying he doesn’t ask me why. “Please.”
