Page 82 of Forbidden Fruit
And I’m face down on the mattress.
Calvin’s weight presses over me, pinning me down, his breath hot against my ear.
“Oh, Peach,” he says. “Now you’ve done it.”
My breath hitches as he easily slips off my shorts and panties in one fluid motion.
“Safe word?” he growls, his hand sliding over the curve of my ass. Heat pools low in my stomach. I try to squeeze my thighs together for friction, but the way he has me pinned, there’s no chance.
“Cal…” I gasp, reaching back with both hands to grab his.
But he catches my wrists effortlessly, locking them behind my back with one strong hand.
“No, no,” he says mockingly. “Keep that same energy. What were you saying earlier? Hmm?” His lips graze my jaw. “That I’m a princess? That it’s cute seeing me try to be in control?”
The heat between my legs is unbearable now, my body screaming for his touch. I turn my head just enough to catch his gaze. He looks ravenous, like he’s seconds from devouring me.
I flash him the brattiest smile I can manage. “Well… did I lie, princess?”
Something flickers in his eyes, something sharp and dangerous that makes my brain scream run but makes my body throb with anticipation.
“Safe. Word,” he warns again through clenched teeth. “I won’t ask a third time.”
I know if I don’t say it, he’ll still fuck me, leave me a moaning mess. But he won’t spank me until he hears me say my safe word.
And I want it. I want him. I want that delicious burn only his too-big hands can deliver.
“Velvet,” I whisper.
The word barely leaves my lips before his hand comes down hard on my bare ass.
SMACK.
I yelp, my whole body jerking from the impact.
Then another. And another. Each one precise and punishing, the sting blooming across my skin and radiating heat through every nerve ending. I squirm, my cries tumbling out of me.
“Holy fuck, holy fuck,” I whimper. It hurts, a hell of a lot more than I expected. He’s only truly punished me once before when he flogged me in the playroom. Sure, he spanks me during sex, and I thought that was hard. But this is fire.
“Sir, I’m sorry!” I cry out, voice cracking. “I’m sorry, I swear… fuck!”
“Oh, now you’re sorry?” he sneers. “Now you want to behave?”
I whimper, tears stinging my eyes.
He leans in, dragging his tongue along the shell of my ear. “Too fuckin’ late, brat. You wanted to play games? Let’s fucking play.”
Smack.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack.
I sob, clit throbbing, hips grinding uselessly against the sheets. My ass is on fire, each slap painting it in bruised heat, and I fucking love it.
Smack.
