What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [33]
Then he used his free hand to spank her again—harder now, in a faster rhythm. Jesus God. She yelped at each strike of his palm, overcome by the combination of odd feelings vibrating through her. Did it hurt? Or did it feel good? She couldn’t even tell. But each unyielding slap echoed through her body, seeming to heighten every other sensation: the finger moving in and out of her anus, the hardness of the desk beneath her hips and breasts, the pulsation between her legs.
“Have you had enough?” he finally asked.
“Yes,” she burst out. Because her bottom was sore, and inexplicable feelings wracked her from head to toe.
Yet even as he withdrew his finger, making her yelp yet again, he said darkly, “I don’t think you have. I think you need to be punished much, much more, Jenna.” And with that, he grabbed her hip and rolled her to her back on the desk.
It shook her to see him again, face-to-face, after what he’d just done to her, yet his expression held nothing but intense desire mingled with power. Stepping between her legs, he leaned over, brusquely curled the fingertips of both hands into the cups of her bra, and yanked them down, causing her breasts to tumble free.
“Damn,” he murmured then, for a brief second sounding more like the Brent of last night than Father Powers, and his reaction reminded her it was the first time he’d actually seen them. His response warmed her cheeks and made her glance down to where the two mounds emerged from a frame of white knotted blouse and askew lace, large and round, nipples pointed.
His eyes remained locked there, too, as he closed his hands over them, massaging roughly. A moan escaped her throat when, below, his hardened length connected with her crotch through his pants and her thin undies. Her body felt supercharged now, as if everything up to this moment, from the shaving to the spanking to the anal play, had all been priming her . . . for whatever happened next.
Brent aggressively twirled her nipples between his fingertips, then pulled on them, gentle but firm, the move seeming to elongate them further. Soft cries and mewls left her and she suddenly felt out of her head with pleasure—and the need for more.
Next, he bent over her, taking one turgid peak in his mouth, sucking it in hard. “Oh!” she cried. “Oh God!” It hurt—and yet it didn’t. Because it made her throb still more wildly below. He rubbed against her there now, and her head dropped back in abandon. She felt her back arching, urging him to take as much of her breast into his mouth as possible. She’d had no idea she liked things a little rough.
She wanted to protest when he released her breast and stepped back, disconnecting their bodies completely, but she held her tongue when he reached under her tiny scrap of a skirt to pull the lace thong down and off, over her sexy shoes.
Once it was gone, he moved back between her legs and flipped the skirt up again to look at her—there. She tingled madly, pulsated almost violently. But then—oh no—he looked furious. What on earth was wrong?
She didn’t have to wonder long. “You disobeyed me again, Jenna! I instructed you to shave your pussy completely, yet you didn’t.”
She simply blinked, surprised—and still crazily aroused, as well as a little freaked out because he seemed so upset again. “Yes, I did. Mostly,” she insisted, realizing he was referring to the small thatch of hair she’d left, despite its being located well above the area that mattered. “I mean, I just thought . . .”
“You just thought you’d do what you wanted to do,” he boomed at her. “How many times do I need to make this clear? When I tell you to do something, you do it—or you suffer the consequences. Do you understand that?”
Quietly, she nodded. She didn’t know how else to reply.
“I don’t think you do,” he groused. “And I think I need to teach you a lesson the hard way!”
Lying half dressed yet fully revealed before him, she shuddered. “How?”
“I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”
Oh. My. That didn’t sound much like punishment.