“No,” she moans.
I take my finger and place it in my mouth. Christ, I want to taste her for real.
“Your first time coming for me won’t be like this.”
“Coming… for you?” she asks. “You’ve hired me as your escort, sir. You’re supposed to…”
“Do whatever the hell I want.”
She grins wickedly and nods.
“Yes, sir.”
“Take off your clothes, please.”
I can see how she swallows, her hand at her neck again, trying to keep herself calm. She stands and makes quick work of removing her clothing. They fall onto the floor. She looks at me with wide, curious eyes, as I let my gaze roam over her.
The gentle slope of her shoulders and slight curve of her belly. Her breasts are full and pert with lovely strawberry-colored nipples I want to suckle, but this time with nothing between us. Her waist narrows then flares to perfect hips and voluptuous thighs.
Her hand hovers over her side. Hiding.
I want to see, to know all of her. “Put your hands down by your side.”
A flash of pain shoots through her gaze. She breaks our gaze, her eyes lowering with her hand. There’s a circular silver scar on the side of her abdomen. Obviously, an old injury and one she doesn’t want to dwell on. I ignore it.
“You’re breathtaking. Beautiful.”
Her gaze reaches mine once more. “Thank you.”
“Stand right there in front of me,” I order, as I pour myself another scotch. “I want you to touch yourself.”
“Sir?”
“Now.”
She stands in front of me and gently lowers her fingers to her pussy.
“I can’t,” she whispers.
I shake my head, as if it pains me to have to pronounce what I do, but I’ve been waiting for an excuse for this.
“That’s not the correct answer.” I slide my drink onto a coaster, and reach for the cuff of my sleeve. My eyes on hers, I roll up first one, then the other. I can hear the way her breathing shallows, and see the way her pupils dilate.
When one sleeve is rolled up, I reach for the second, then I pat my knee.
“Come here, please. Lie over my lap for your spanking.”
Chapter Six
Miranda
“I… I can’t do that either.” Goosebumps rise on my flesh. Shame, humiliation, and failure wash over me. There’s no way in hell I can cross this room and lay myself over his lap.
Not that I don’t want to. I do. A part of me is dying to know what it’s like to be spanked. I can already imagine my belly pressed over his knee. Then what’s my issue? I’m the owner of the fucking escort service. In business, a freaking sex goddess. And I can’t force myself to do any of the things he’s asked me.
He gives me a hard look. “You can, and you will, young lady, or this gets a lot more serious.”
His hands go to the buckle of his belt. The muscles of his perfect forearm ripple, visible to me beneath the cuff of his perfectly rolled up sleeve.
He wants to spank me with a belt? My knees go to jelly. “You don’t mean?”
“Yes. I do. I’m going to count to five and if you aren’t laid over my lap, you’ll have a taste of my belt striped across your perfect ass.”
I don’t know what’s more terrifying. Pleasuring myself as he watches. Putting myself over his lap to be spanked. Or being whipped by his belt. I can hardly think straight.
He unlatches the buckle.
I freeze. I can’t tear my gaze from his hands at his waist. Yes, I do know what’s most terrifying. The belt. The belt is the scariest of the three.
He raises that perfectly sculpted dark brow at me. “One… two… three…”
I scurry across the carpet. I’ve never laid myself over someone’s lap before. How do I do this?
His open palm—that big, rough, masculine palm of his—pats his thigh. “Four.”
Hands and knees on the couch, I crawl across it. Lay down over his thighs. My naked breasts press into the cushion. My ass is perfectly centered over the edge of his lap. My legs spread behind me, supported by the leather cushions.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m going to be spanked. It’s almost more intimidating than the idea of having sex for the first time.
“Good girl. I didn’t get to five.” The weight of his hand rests on my ass. He gives it a little pat, a prelude of what’s to come, and my sex pulses. Oh my God, this man has me in his absolute control. “Now, what should a very naughty girl do for her daddy when she needs to be punished?”
What does he want? A blow job? A hand job? Seems impossible from the position he’s got me in.
Think, boss lady. What does this man want from you the most?
Billionaire. Type-A. In control.
Submission. He wants me to submit to him. He wants me to ask for it.
I barely recognize my own voice as it comes out in a mousy squeak. “You want me to… ask you to spank me?”
His hand slides over my ass, increasing the goosebumps on my tingling skin by twofold. “Good girl. You’re a fast learner. When daddy tells you to do something, like touch your pretty pussy, I expect you to obey. If you disobey, you need to be punished. Now, ask daddy for what you need.”
My face flames, matching the burning heat growing between my thighs. My throat tight, I swallow back my fears. “Please. Spank me.”
His hand lifts. My breath catches in my throat as he pauses, and I imagine his hand hovering over me. His hand comes down, hard and stinging on my ass. Harder than I expected.
It fucking hurts.
He pulls me from my thoughts with icy words. “Did you forget something?”
The sting spreads on my ass. He waits. I know what he wants to hear. My tongue swells in my mouth. My chest tightens.
I can’t do it.
But… I kinda want to.
I squeeze my eyes shut tight. Take in a breath. And say the words I’ve longed to say, just never had the right man to say them to.
“Please, spank me. Daddy.”
With those words, my whole world becomes brighter, more vivid, full color. I’m not only asking him for what I need, what I’ve secretly been craving all these years.
I’m finally being honest with myself.
Running a daddy escort service isn’t just a business to me but an unfulfilled dream. Deep down, past all the lies I tell myself, I know there is a hidden truth that I can no longer deny.
I want a daddy of my own. To love me… spoil me when I’m good. Spank me when I’m bad. To take care of me. To help me take care of myself.
His hand comes down again. Harder this time. The stinging burn spreads across my skin. I take in a sharp breath, pulling the air between my teeth.
He spanks again. And again. And again.
The warmth turns to fire. The prickling sting to pain. For a split second, I wonder, have I gotten this all wrong? Is this really what I want?
But then he’s back with his firm palm. His chastising words. Spanking me with steady, smarting smacks as he speaks. “Naughty, naughty girl. Having to go over her daddy’s lap like this for not listening.” He pauses, massaging the tender, heated skin, and his words are like melted caramel. “Do you think you can be good now? Do you think you can do what daddy says?”