Page 125 of Hunt Me, Daddy

He drew my leggings down. Then my underwear. Cool air, bare skin, the specific quality of being over his knee that my nervous system had developed strong and inconvenient opinions about.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I whined.

“I know,solnyshko, but sometimes even good girls need spankings too.”

Without another word, his palm landed, but it was somehow different from the time before. This time, it didn’t feel punishing or corrective in any way. Somehow, it felt good.

He worked steadily across both cheeks with the brisk efficiency that meant he was not interested in making a point, only in moving something through me that had been building all day and needed somewhere to go.

I pressed my face into the couch cushion and breathed.

It stung. That was the point. The sting was specific and immediate and demanded my complete attention. By the time his hand slowed I was warm everywhere and considerably quieter in my own head than I had been in quite some time.

Then his hand slid between my thighs.

He found that I was embarrassingly, thoroughly wet. He did not comment on it. He simply found my clit and worked me withthe same focused patience he brought to everything, two fingers crooked and his thumb precise and his attention complete, and I came with my face still pressed into the cushion and a sound I was not going to be cataloguing in any database any time soon.

He did not stop.

“Daddy—”

“One more,” he said.

It was not a request.

His fingers glided over my sensitive bundle of nerves and in no time at all, I was already at the edge of another orgasm. I tried to hold it off. I tried not to let him get to me, but his fingers were perfect and everything drove me closer to what was promising to be a delicious climax.

Then, all at once, the second one hit harder, and I screamed something into the cushion that was mostly his name and partly the other name and entirely undignified.

His hand stilled. His palm rested warm against the curve of my bottom, and he left it there for a moment before he helped me stand back up.

He looked at me.

My face was flushed. My thinking was considerably cleaner.

“Feel better?” he said.

“That’s a very smug question.”

“It wasn’t,” he said. “It was a genuine one.”

I held his gaze for a moment.

“Yes, Daddy,” I said, biting my lower lip. My cheeks felt red hot.

He nodded once, satisfied, and stood. I pulled up my panties and leggings and rubbed my bottom once, which earned me a very smug look from him and only made me blush even harder.

Then, we turned back to our computers because some truths needed somewhere to go before they became unbearable, and focused on the anonymous message we were about to send to Mikhail Orlov.

Stand down within 72 hours or everything releases.

I read the message three times.

Ivan stood beside me. “Once it goes,” he said, “he will know someone has the authorization chain.”

“He already knows someone’s been digging.”

“He will know how deep.”