by Roz Lee
“Over here.” He gestures to the counter cluttered with the makings of muffins. “Fold your arms on the counter and rest your forehead on your arms. Spread your legs.”
I bend over and the shirt rides high on my thighs. Cool air brushes my rapidly heating pussy. I didn’t bother with panties this morning, figuring it would be a waste to put on a clean pair before I showered. I might have been hoping Brendan would notice, too.
He moves in behind me, his hands going to my hips, sliding the shirt to my waist. He tucks the hem into the apron ties, anchoring it in place. I shiver, not from the cold, but from the heat radiating off the man brushing his groin against my ass.
“You are such a naughty girl, baking muffins without any underwear on.” He rocks into me so his cock slips between my folds, sliding easily in my pussy juices. “Such behavior must be punished.”
He jerks the drawer to my right open. Not many people know Brendan likes to cook, too, so he’s spent enough time in my kitchen to know where I keep everything. This drawer is home to wooden spoons, spatulas, and a host of other long-handled items. As the drawer closes, I see he’s selected a very sturdy wood piece about eight inches long. Flat with holes in it, it’s perfect for stirring pasta—or spanking a naughty cook.
Keeping one hand on the small of my back, he steps to the side, dragging the wide wood stirrer across my cheeks again and again, like he’s frosting a cake or something. Every once in a while he dips it edgewise between my legs, smoothing it along my thighs, invading the folds and creases—taking possession of my most intimate places. It feels so fuckin’ good it lulls me into a state of sensually erotic bliss. I feel myself softening, opening to his exploration. My pussy clenches, begging to be filled.
The shift from coaxing to demanding comes without warning. I yelp as the first blow lands on my left cheek, followed immediately by one to the right cheek. Not worse than using his hand, but different. More unforgiving, if that makes any sense.
“You okay?” He rubs his palm over the flesh he just smacked.
“Yes, sir.” I press my rear into his hand, loving the reassurance it gives me. He doesn’t want to cause me harm. I don’t have a clue why I’m so turned on by being paddled, but I am, and I don’t want him to quit.
“I think ten to begin with then I’m going to fuck you.”
“I’d like that, sir.”
“Damn right you’re going to like it.” He swats me four times in rapid succession. I rise up on my tiptoes, fighting the need to squeeze my thighs together and hump the counter until I come. Rubbing the sting away, he dips his fingers lower to rim my weeping hole. I groan and attempt to squat and take him into me. “Don’t come until I tell you to, babe, or I won’t fuck you when I’m done.”
Is that me whimpering? Hell, yes, it is. The only thing I need more than to come is to come with some part of Brendan inside me. My ass is on fire. It’s apparent now that using a wooden implement is vastly different than hand spanking. The burn goes deeper, promising to last longer when it’s over. I’m inexplicably okay with that. In fact, I want him to mark me. Other than the occasional accidental hickey, he’s never left any outward signs of his possession. I wear his ring for the world to see, but I want something more personal. A secret between the two of us.
“Brace yourself, babe. These last four are going to hurt.”
I clench my fists and screw my eyes shut.
Whack, whack, whack, whack.
Fuck, he wasn’t kidding! Over before I have time to react, the four blows are harder than any before, lifting me to my toes. I bite my lower lip, but a keening wail still escapes my lips. My brain is scrambling to process all the information being relayed to it—pain, pleasure, arousal—when Brendan’s chosen instrument of torture clatters on the countertop. As promised, he notches the head of his cock between my legs and drills me—hard, fast, and deep.
His fingers dig into my hips, staking me in place while he strokes deep, filling me with his turgid flesh. His balls slap against my clit, sending lightning bolts to my extremities. Every time his pelvis slams into my ass, it’s like another swat from the wooden stirrer, adding another layer to my arousal.
I need to come so bad! The peak is there, I can see it behind my closed lids—almost touch it it’s so close. “Please.” I hear the plea inside my head, don’t know if I actually verbalize it or not.
“You’ve got the hottest fuckin’ pussy. Fuckin’ love your red ass.” The strain in his voice is a reflection of my own needy state. The idea of me being the one to reduce this man to the primitive animal he’s become fills me with a sense of power like nothing I’ve ever felt before. He’s on the edge of losing control, same as me. I want to push him over. I want to feel his hot seed erupting into me. One day, it will take hold, creating an unbreakable bond between us.
Reaching between my legs, I grasp at his balls, managing after a few tries to capture them. Trapped, he can’t pull all the way out without leaving his gonads behind.
“Fuck, April!”
He adjusts to short, rapid thrusts. I tug on his sac, earning a string of curse words and a promise of punishment I take to heart. Already massive, his dick thickens inside me, stretching my walls tight. His next thrust jerks my feet clean off the floor and shoves the top of my head against the empty mixing bowl on the counter.
The wash of hot semen spurting inside me and the hiss of acute pleasure from his lips tips me over the edge into a chasm of unnerving bliss. My heartbeat is his. His is mine. One in body, one in spirit.
Letting go of his balls, I finger the spot where we’re joined, tracing his rigid pole and the thin membrane of my inner lips. If I could, I’d keep him physically inside me forever, but I can’t, so I’ll settle for these moments of perfection.
Without breaking our connection, he lifts me against him, my back to his front, and walks us to the table. Kicking a chair out with his foot, he lowers us to the seat. He brushes my hair to one side then proceeds to nibble on my neck. His dick twitches inside me, and I have to grip his forearm wrapped around my waist to keep still.
“We aren’t through, babe. I’m going to bend you over every piece of furniture in this place and paddle your ass until you can’t sit down for a week. Then I’m going to fuck you until your eyes cross.”
That’s too good of a promise to spoil by telling him he’s already made my eyes cross, so I wiggle my hips on his lap. His rod feels like steel inside me.
“Damn, woman.” He kisses my nape again. “I don’t want you to wear anything but that apron today. Thinking about your tits peeking out of the front, your pussy hidden, but your ass is bare, begging to be spanked, makes me crazy.”
“I’d like that, sir.” The honorific rolls off my tongue as natural as can be, surprising both of us.
“I like when you call me that.” He nuzzles the sensitive spot behind my ear. “Never thought I wanted that from you.”
Breathless from feeling his lips and hot breath on my neck, it takes me a while to reply. “Never thought I’d want to, but it feels right.”
“To me, too, babe. What do you say we start every day with a spanking from now on? I want you to know I’m there for you. Want you to remember I’m the one who’s going to take care of you and your needs. I want you to know how much I love you.”
Oh, God. There’s only one explanation for what he’s saying. “You found my book on domestic discipline.”
“Read it cover to cover. Twice.”
“Beth gave it to me as a gag gift.”
“I know. Colton told me.”
“He did?”
“Yep. That’s how I knew to look for it.”
Between his cock stretching me and his lips doing wicked things to my neck, I’m surprised I can carry on a conversation at all. “What did you think?”
“I particularly liked the parts you highlighted.”
I groan. I’d completely forgotten about doing that. “You don’t think I’m a pervert?”
“No, darlin’, I th
ink you’re perfect, and other than fuckin’ you, there isn’t anything I’d rather do every day than spank your ass.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Hell, no. It’d be an honor to send you off to work every day, your ass stinging from my love taps.”
“Love taps. I like that.”
“That’s what they are, babe. Reminders of how much I love you. There isn’t anything I won’t do for you, babe. I want you to tell me every little thing. Bring me your problems so we can work together to find a solution. I want you to start every day reminded that I have your back, and I own your ass.”
The oven timer buzzes. We both look toward the appliance for a second then he grips my waist tight and rocks into me. “Get me a muffin and some coffee, woman, then come back and sit on my lap. I want to be inside you while you feed me.”
Reluctantly, I stand, severing the intimate connection between us. “Take that damned shirt off before you come back, too.” I smile at the love tap he places on my retreating ass.
“Yes, sir.” My world has never been so right.
∞∞∞
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Jennifer Lynne writes short contemporary erotic romance, often with paranormal elements. When she’s not writing what her family and friends call “porn for chicks” and what she prefers to call “super-hot romance for intelligent readers”, Jen is working in the admin day job, running around after teenagers, pampering three cats and trying to find a smidgen of time for her husband. She lives in Melbourne, Australia.
Jen is published with Red Sage and formerly with Breathless Press. In 2011 she embarked on an indie journey with the publication of her popular GODS OF LOVE romance series featuring erotic Greek gods and modern-day mortals in need of sexual healing. More recently she has co-authored the highly erotic NOT VANILLA series with USA Today Bestselling Author, Roz Lee.
Jen loves her family, good coffee, red wine, and sitting by a cozy log fire watching the misty rain outside turn everything fresh and green. She hopes her tales of love and lust continue to excite readers, and her dream is one day to be able to write full-time.
Jennifer loves to hear from readers and fellow book lovers. She can be contacted via her website & blog, or sign up for her newsletter and never miss a new release.
∞∞∞
USA Today Best-Selling author Roz Lee is the author of over twenty erotic romances. The first, The Lust Boat, was born of an idea acquired while on a Caribbean cruise with her family and soon blossomed into a five book series published by Red Sage. Following her love of baseball, she turned her attention to sexy athletes in tight pants, writing the critically acclaimed Mustangs Baseball series.
Roz has been married to her best friend, and high school sweetheart, for over three decades. Roz and her husband have two grown daughters (and a new son-in-law) they couldn't be more proud of.
Even though Roz has lived on both coasts, her heart lies in between, in Texas. A Texan by birth, she can trace her family back to the Republic of Texas. With roots that deep, she says, “You can't ever really leave.”
When Roz isn't writing, she's reading, or traipsing around the country on one adventure or another. No trip is too small, no tourist trap too cheesy, and no road unworthy of travel.
Visit Roz Lee's website. Never miss a new release—sign up for her monthly newsletter.
Other Titles by Jennifer Lynne
Not Vanilla Series
Not Vanilla (Voyeurism)
Not Vanilla (Bondage)
Not Vanilla (Spanking)
Not Vanilla Flavors of Kink Anthology Collection
Gods of Love Series
Platinum Passion
Aphrodite Calling
Sex Club Secrets
Immortal Seduction
Demon of Envy
Ice Queen (coming soon)
Also:
Heart's Destiny
Seduction Anthology
Educating Ethan (re-release 2015)
Pandora's Gift
Secrets Vol. 28 Sensual Cravings Anthology
Other Titles by Roz Lee
Mustangs Baseball Series
Inside Heat
Going Deep
Bases Loaded
Switch Hitter
Spring Training
Strike Out
Free Agent
Seasoned Veteran
Lothario Series
The Lust Boat
Show Me the Ropes
Love Me Twice
Four of Hearts
Under the Covers
Also:
Suspended Game
Sweet Carolina
Still Taking Chances
Making It on Broadway
The Middlethorpe Chronicles
Hearts on Fire
A Spanking Good Christmas
Special Delivery Valentine
Pushing the Envelope
Yours, Thankfully
Not Vanilla (Voyeurism)
Not Vanilla (Bondage)
Not Vanilla (Spanking)
Not Vanilla Flavors of Kink Anthology Collection
First Annual BDSM Writers Con Anthology
2015 BDSM Writers Con Anthology
Table of Contents