Chapter 28

Gigi

Me: I can’t wait to spank your ass.

I stare down at the text Jameson sent from my phone inside of the SUV debating if going to him is what’s best for me.

Do I want the promise he eluded to several times today? Fuck yeah, I do, but the mood changed into something dark and depressing after our incredible meal. That’s not something I’m sure I can face again.

I sigh and climb out of my bed. My parents disappeared into their room over an hour ago with no peep, giggle, or other noises I refuse to examine. Yet, I stayed in my bed trying to talk myself into going to him.

Creeping down the stairs, I head out of the house and use the backdoor to the clubhouse. Thankfully unlocked, the door leads just off the kitchen to the hallway of rooms. When Ivy and I were brought home from the hospital, this is where we made our home. Until we were six and Dad finally broke down and had our house built, we roamed these halls with all the other kids.

I let myself into Jameson’s room, locking the door securely behind me. I expect to see his sleeping form on his bed, and he’s there, but he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, in all his naked glory.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” The low gruff of his voice sends shivers over my entire body, and I realize debating even coming here wasn’t what I wanted at all. I wanted this, this man looking at me like he both loves and hates the sight of me.

“I wasn’t going to come,” I confess. “Afraid you wouldn’t let me come and wondering if my entire night is only going to be filled with pain, my morning consumed by the aches you’re sure to leave on my body.”

“Yet here you are.” He hasn’t shifted, hasn’t moved his body one single inch since I stepped inside, and his calmness makes me shiver harder.

“Yes,” I pant.

“You have much to atone for,” he says crooking his finger and drawing me closer. “All the lies. Running from me after Dallas, keeping the secret about my baby, the way you acted at the doctor earlier, but most importantly the idea in your head that you could ever run from me again.”

“I want to run right now,” I admit. “Will it hurt badly?”

“If I do it right.”

I’m trembling, my knees barely strong enough to hold my weight when I finally make it within arm’s reach.

“And if I do it right, you’ll beg me not to stop, plead with me to redden your ass every day for the rest of your life.”

I moan, not at the idea of him spanking me, but because the idea that he would be around every day turns me on more than anything.

“I want that.”

I flinch, the anticipation of his touch incomparable to the actual feel of it on my hip.

“Strip,” he directs as his hand falls away.

I scurry out of the same dress I wore to the doctor’s office earlier.

“No panties?” The approval in his voice is enough to keep me from ever covering my pussy again.

I stand before him naked as the day I was born, eyes roaming over the taut flesh of his stomach, the rippling muscles of his arms as he runs his hands up and down his muscular thighs.

“I didn’t want anything to get in your way.” I’m nearly breathless, longing for him to put his hands back on me.

“You walked through a clubhouse full of horny bastards with my pussy bare?” The possession. God, I crave it. To be needed, to be wanted by this man is almost incomprehensible, but his words ring true deep down in a place I don’t bother to examine often. “I think that only adds to my count.”

“Oh God,” I mutter.

“You’re going to feel me all over for days,” he promises. His hand runs up my bare thigh, over my hip, until his huge hand is testing the weight of my breast. “On your ass for being so petulant.”

He twists my nipple until I cry out in either pain or pleasure, at this point I’m not even sure myself.

“Deep inside where I’m going spend the night fucking you. You’ll beg me to stop; you’ll think you can’t take anymore.” The tip of his index finger runs delicately down my sternum, a contradiction to his dark vows.

“I won’t stop. I’ll take what I need because whose pussy is this?”

His finger ghosts over my clit. My hips move seeking more pressure. It earns me a slap to the sensitive bud.

“Whose is it?” he growls nudging my legs further apart.

“Yours,” I pledge.

“Remember that.”

Next thing I know I’m slung over his lap, face buried in sheets that smell like him, ass on display.

The first smack comes out of nowhere, and like any other time I’m in pain, I try to scramble away from it. The hand pressed low on my back ensures I stay exactly where he’s positioned me.

“Do I need to add more?”

I shake my head as his hand rubs over the injured flesh of my right ass cheek.

He smacks and rubs, three strikes and fifteen seconds of stinging massage, repeatedly for what seems like days.

Then, he’s spreading my sore cheeks, the cool air in his room licking at the entrance to my body. I’m wet, embarrassingly so, and I didn’t even know I was turned on. The cacophony of sensations leaves my head spinning.

I need more.

I never want to be hit again.

“So filthy,” he praises, fingers sweeping through the slickness of my desire until they stop, toying with the virgin flesh of my anus. “Whose ass is this?”

“Mine,” I argue at the unfamiliar burn as he dips the tip of his finger inside.

Three more strikes; fifteen more seconds of massage.

“Whose?” His finger begins to dip inside again.

“Y-yours,” I hiss as he presses deeper.

“Not tonight.” I moan when he pulls free. “But soon it will be.”

My mouth is dry, the heavy breathing from my punishment and the unsure emotions running through my head have left me delirious, unsure of what’s coming next, but knowing that I’ll die without it.

“Hurt?” he asks gripping my abused ass cheek in his hand.

I wince, but the warmth of his hands and the sting combine until I’m panting and hoping he hits me again.

“Yes,” I admit. “So good.”

His dark chuckle turns me on, too.

“Knees and elbows,” he commands releasing me and standing me up on wobbly legs. I scramble to mind him, arching my back, feet hanging off the edge of the bed.

He rams inside before I even realize he’s positioned himself behind me. The intrusion of his cock and the metal lining the bottom of his shaft is sensation overload. I cry out, uncaring of who in the clubhouse may hear. There’s no one that exists in this world but him and me.

“Fuck, your ass is so red.” He drives his statement home by gripping my tender flesh and thrusting even deeper.

Howling when he grips a fistful of my hair and forcing my back to arch even deeper, I’m left as nothing more than sensation.

I come. I burst wide open, the darkness disappearing behind the bright flashes in my vision, yellows, and purples, pulsing in time with my release.

Then the sting of his hand on my already tender ass brings me back around.

“I. Didn’t. Give. You. Permission.” Each word is underlined with another slap to my ass and another brutal shove of his cock.

I come again.

He punishes me.

And I realize I could do this every second of every day for the rest of my life.

“You fucking bitch,” he hisses as his cock kicks, and he starts to come.

I smile at both the pleasure he’s found with my body and the words he said in awe rather than in a derogatory way.

His weight leans over my back, and I collapse, the cool sheets a needed relief against my sweaty skin.

“You weren’t supposed to come,” he mutters in my ear. Biting nips of his mouth on my shoulder is enough to stir my overused body until I’m squirming under him once again.

“Your fault,” I say on a moan when his tongue sweeps out and licks the shell of my ear.

“You’re making me hard.”

He’s still inside of me, hips moving his cock in and out in lazy strokes.

“You never went soft,” I argue.

“I’m always hard around you.”

I smile against the mattress.

Suddenly his weight is gone, and I’m being shifted to the center of his bed on my back.

He’s back inside of me, chest to chest, mouth hovering near mine, a second later.

I realize as his breath becomes mine that we’ve never kissed. My tongue has never tasted or felt the roughness of his. And more than anything, more than breath or food or water, it’s what I need to survive.

He’s watching my mouth, and I pray he needs it as much as I do.

He doesn’t lean in; he doesn’t press his mouth to mine. He leaves me hanging, gasping, slowly dying in his arms as he hitches my leg up. I press my heel into his back, urging him harder, deeper because it doesn’t matter that I’m slowly fading from the deficiency of his mouth, I can’t imagine a kinder death than one where he’s buried deep inside of me.

When my eyes flutter closed, then and only then does he resuscitate me. Only then does he press his soft but firm lips to my mouth.

The jolt of electricity, the renewed life force is an arrow down my body. It begins to pulse in my clit. My orgasm, another one I didn’t get permission for, takes over, clenching and gripping around him while he takes over my mouth.

The lazy sweeps of his tongue don’t match the now hurried thrusts of his hips. The soft words he whispers against my lips are a contradiction to the punishing grip of his hand on my ass as he angles my hips just right.

“Perfect,” he praises just before he stills, the hot jets of his come coating my womb.

We lie, his weight held up by his strong arms. The kisses we share are calm and satiated.

“You’re sleepy,” he chuckles against my mouth, and I realize that I’m so dazed and exhausted that I’m sliding in and out of consciousness.

I grumble my dissent when he pulls back and leaves the bed, only waking enough to grumble at him when he begins to massage a soothing cream into the skin of my abused ass.