Page 130 of Easy
‘Mark my skin, and I might smile.’
‘Maybe. Maybe not. Time will tell.’
In that instant, I’m up from the bed. Sweet baby Jesus, I hadn’t planned on running around the house naked, had I? I really ought to take the time to think these sorts of things through.
Especially recalling now who lived next door...
‘I don’t have to do what you say,’ I counter, coasting along the edge of the bed. ‘You’re not the boss of me.’
His smile was slow and sinister as it rose. ‘You’re going to regret this.’ His smile flashes teeth. ‘But I’m going to have so much fun.’
‘You think?’
He lunges for me as I step away from the bed. ‘Nowhere to run, love. Give up now and I might go easy on you.’
‘What makes you think that’s an incentive?’ On his feet now, as naked as myself, my heart beats wildly, and I can’t quite tell where my bravado is coming from. Eager, excited, and more than a little bit scared, I laugh as I nimbly dodge his arms again.
Unashamedly naked, he stalks me like prey. ‘I’ll get you, you know,’ he counters with a dangerous gleam in his eye.
‘And my little dog, too?’
‘Dog?’ he questions. ‘All I can see is pussy.’
I laugh loudly, my hand flying to my mouth in an attempt to smother it. A mistake, it turns out, as he catches me by my shoulder, pulling my flailing body until we’re skin to skin.
‘Lions and tigers and... you’re bare,’ he whispers, sliding a hand across my belly and down between my thighs. I clamped them together—as much to keep his hand there as to keep up thepretence.
‘Oh, my.’
Just a breath of words as he pulls me to him, my back flush to his chest. Wrapping an arm around my waist, Dan brushes the hair from my face.
‘What I want to know is, are you a good witch, or just a bad little girl?’ The whisper rasps against my ear, but I can’t help being impressed. And by more than his film references.
‘I’m whatever you need me to be.’
‘See, you’re learning already.’ Walking backwards toward the bed, he pulls my reluctant form over his knee. It might be a state of shock that allows him to place me there, though it’s more likely that he didn’t give me time to protest. Perhaps, it’s more likely that I knew what was coming. Likelier still, that I hoped it would be me.
‘New house rule: you enter the house, you hand over control.’
He punctuates this with his hand on my ass, the sound reverberating around the room. Truthfully, the noise is worse than the impact, though it was definitely a little more painful than the kitchen spatula. That had been a dull thud, this a sharp sting.
Arching my back, I turn my head over my shoulder to glare at him. If looks could kill, he’d be pushing up daisies, as the saying goes. But I don’t ask him to stop, just inhaling a deep breath on the next slap. Despite my position and his obvious intent, the second slap still comes as a shock. I lower my head over his knee, trying hard not to part with the sounds, pushing my fingertips to the floor as he slaps me again.
Slapping and stroking, my cheeks are stung and soothed in equal measure. This isn’t like in the kitchen. This was so much more. Through the soundtrack of my indignity—breath after breath, slap after slap—through the mixture of my anger and embarrassment, the pain blurs my resistance.
A stroke, a caress, a whispered word, then the meeting of flesh, hard and fast. My belly tenses against his thighs, my back and shoulders shuddering with small, stifled cries. Cries I have no intention of offering him as I instead try to bite them back.
Time blurs, the pain turning to pleasure, each slap taking on the guise of a caress. And as Dan slides his hand under the front of my thighs, I allow him to manoeuvre me onto the bed. On my front, my ass in the air, I whimper as he kneads my smarting skin, then in response to his fingers, my whimpers turn to moans as he pushes two inside. When he twists his wrist, the sensation takes on a whole new meaning. My moans become desperate, his positioning so accurate.
Pushing an arm under my hips, he pulls me back into position from my collapse.
‘I’m not finished yet.’
I raise my head to tell him no more—to tell him to hurry—all of that, but at a pink blur flashes across the floor, I whisper hoarsely. ‘Twat.’
‘You’ll get extra that way,’ Dan says, laughing almost devilishly.
‘No,’ I reply, holding out a limp hand to point. ‘It’s your cat.’
