Page 81 of Sportsball is for Lovers

With a sigh, I lean into him. “I know. I’m sor⁠—”

He covers my mouth with his hand. “I don’t want to hear that word.”

My brow arches.

“You do not have to apologize. You have a lot on your mind.”

Deflated, I nod. “Yeah.”

He studies me, his forehead crinkled as he takes me in. He’s assessing me, but he isn’t critiquing. He’s frowning, but I already know he’s not upset with me.

To my surprise, Jared reaches for the tie between my hands and pulls it free.

“Change of plans,” he announces.

“Oh?” I pull my hands free from the silk ties and flex my wrists.

He hauls me off the bed and then settles me on his lap. I move to straddle him and he manipulates me until he has me the way he wants me, laying on my belly across his thighs.

Jared’s hand trails over the curve of my ass, his fingertips digging into the firm flesh.

“I’m going to spank you now,” he says.

He’s a pleasure Dom; he wants to bring me pleasure. At the same time, he knows when I need to get out of my head. We haven’t gone there yet, but we’ve discussed it, and we’ve established parameters for what it means. I don’t want to be punished. I don’t want to be made to feel inferior. If he thinks a spanking will get me back into the heat of the moment…

I want to please him.

He wants to bring me pleasure, but I want to please him just as much. If he thinks this is what I need, I’ll give it a try. I’ll be a good girl.

I’ll be his good girl.

His voice is hoarse, his breathing ragged. I can feel the hard ridge of him beneath my belly and I wiggle against him.

“Nope.” He gathers my wrists again, holding them over my head, while his other hand caresses my spine. “You need to behave.”

“Or what?” I turn to look over my shoulder at him, a teasing smile on my lips. Fuck, I love challenging him—and he likes it, too, if the gleam in his eye is any indication.

He trails a finger up the seam of my legs. I’m wet, the slickness there a taunting promise of what’s to come.

Hopefully, me.

My thighs shake and he smirks. As I spread my legs, he presses a finger inside me, and the slow stretch makes my eyes roll back into my head. He fucks me with shallow thrusts, not giving me the pressure or pleasure I need, just enough to warm me up.

I rest my cheek on the bed, my back arched, my hips up.

Jared withdraws his finger from within me. I don’t have time to mourn the loss before a loud crack echoes throughout the room.

And then I feel it, the blooming burn spreading from where his hand made contact with my ass.

I jolt, my hips snapping up.

His hand settles on the small of my back, pressing lightly, and the contact grounds me.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs. His fingertips trace small circles on my back.

Relaxing, I consciously release the tension in my body.

“There we go.” His voice is soft, comforting.