Page 58 of Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy 1)
“Fine.” I attempt to hold tight to my pride, but it’s already unraveling as I bend over his lap like a naughty child who earned a spanking.
His palm brushes the back of my thigh, and I jerk at his touch. It’s only by biting my lip that I stay silent as he pushes the skirt of the dress up and folds it over my back, completely baring my thong-clad ass to him.
I’m expecting him to be cold and callous in this exercise, but nothing could be further from the truth. His fingers trace the faint bruises I saw in the shower, and my skin heats.
“Do they hurt?”
The question catches me off guard. “Like you would really care.”
His palm cups the curve of my ass cheek and squeezes enough to put pressure on the marks. My thighs clamp together involuntarily.
“I want an answer to my question.”
“No, okay? It’s the curse of fair skin. I bruise easily. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s lucky for me that I like seeing my marks on you. It’s good to know it’s so easy and painless to get what I want.”
Before I can come up with a sharp reply, he releases his grip and trails a finger up the back of the thong where it’s tucked between my cheeks, and they clench together.
He lets out a half laugh at the reaction but never stops his lazy exploration, tucking a fingertip under the waistband and sliding it from side to side.
Every movement is deliberate. He’s making me enjoy something I want to hate, and the bulge pressing against my lower belly tells me he’s enjoying it just as much. That shouldn’t turn me on more, but it does.
“This is the position you’ll take when I spank your ass for your constant bad behavior.” The remark is offhand, but makes me tense regardless.
“You wouldn’t—” I start, but he finishes for me.
“Dare?”
A swat lands against the cheek he cupped, just hard enough to sting before it turns into a heated burn.
“You don’t have a fucking clue what I’d dare when it comes to you.” He hooks a finger into the waistband and drags my thong down my legs, having to tug to release it from between my clasped thighs.
“Are you already wet for me, Keira?” The question is quiet but carries as much power as one of his roared demands.
When I don’t answer right away, he lifts his hips, pressing his hard-on into my belly. There’s no way I can miss the thick length of his cock.
“Because I’m hard for you.”
I suck in a breath, trying to think of anything that will bring me back to center and make me forget how turned on I am right now. The meeting. “I don’t have time for this. We have to hurry.”
His voice is a low growl when he replies. “You’re lucky I want you to make that meeting, or you wouldn’t leave this room today. Torturing you with orgasm denial could easily become a new favorite hobby of mine.”
I keep my lips pressed together this time, assuming that the less I speak, the more quickly we’ll get it over with, even though my body is screaming at me to enjoy every moment.
Two of his fingers slip between my legs, dragging the pads through my soaked slit and brushing over my clit. I squirm in his lap, desperate to either come or for him to let me free, but I know neither is an option.
“You’re so fucking wet for me.”
I want to bite out that it’s not for him, but again, time . . . and the eternal damnation of my soul for lying.
As his fingers play in my wetness, dipping into my opening and tracing around my clit, he murmurs, “You’re finally being good. So submissive while I play with this sweet, soaked pussy.”
I want to argue that I’m anything but submissive, but he flicks my clit and a charge of pleasure shoots through me. That’s when he ups the game, dragging the wetness back toward my ass and lazily dragging a finger around it, coating it with my own slickness. He presses a single finger against the forbidden hole with the lightest pressure, and I tense.
“Relax. I have every intention of making sure you crave this.”
His words carry a promise, and I’m terrified that he’s going to be proven right. He repeats the process with another finger, the lightest pressure, and my hips press harder against his thighs.
