Beautiful Liar

Initiation into Submission: High Protocol

Book Four

“Look at me.” He caressed her flesh with his thumb.

“I can’t. It will make me hot. I’ll spread my legs and beg for you to finger me here in the club…again.” She spread her legs anyway. “Why can’t I say no to you?”

He laughed. “Because you’re my submissive.”

“I’m insatiable. And being here doesn’t help. Everywhere I look, someone is getting something I want.”

“Are you feeling deprived?”

“I shouldn’t be. But I went so long without, now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Across my lap.”

She glanced around them. “But it’s public.”

“Look at these people. They are just like us. Do you really care that they’ll see your ass? They’ll hear the crack of my hand and your moan of pleasure. I want to see the blush of rose across those sensitive stripes from last night.”

Lyric hesitantly stood. Brooks scooted forward and widened his thighs. Draping herself across his lap, her breasts crushed against him, and her arms braced against the edge of the chair. The flounce of her skirt shimmied higher, exposing the curves of her buttocks and the strap of her lace panties that disappeared into her sweet crack.

He caressed the smooth curve. The welts from last night had flattened, leaving behind a kiss of redness. “Are you tender?”

“Yes.”

He grazed his thumb along her seam between her cheeks. Then he cracked his hand against her firm, smooth flesh. Her glutes tightened. He slapped her again, enough strength to tease the sting, to bring a flush to her flesh, but not enough to tame her demon. He would.

Sliding his finger onto her crotch, he cupped her warm, wet heat.

She moaned as her head dropped.

Brooks spanked the fleshiest part of her buttocks. Lyric gusted a harsh breath with each swat.

“Lick my hand,” he demanded, putting his palm in front of her.

Her gaze connected with his. She licked her lips, then lapped his palm, leaving his hand glistening.

Then she cried out with the next stinging slap of his wet palm on her heated flesh. His hand tingled. He slapped her again. She trembled against his legs.

“I need my hand wet just like your pussy.” He held his palm out to her again.

She spit on his palm then licked. She gripped the chair with one hand and his leather-clad leg with the other and braced for the impact. The sound of his hand to her backside played like music, an aural seduction, and a titillating aphrodisiac.

Lyric moaned, quivers rippling over her.

“I want to fuck you with my fingers, right here. Yes, no, maybe?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Please.”

Brooks slid two fingers under the elastic of her panties and curled them into her soaked core. She needed nothing else to shatter. She came, her moan of pleasure rivaling her moan of acceptance from the pain of his hand on her luscious ass. She draped across his legs, blonde hair cascading to the floor, and a becoming blush to her buttocks.

Without leaving a scar, he’d left his mark.