by Selena Kitt
He parked the car on the street and they walked into the building. He put his hand on her lower back, offering a light touch of comfort. She seemed to like it, because she glanced up when he first touched her, a grateful look on her face. She'd been through so much.
They stopped outside her door and surveyed the splintered wood and the way the door still swung on its hinges.
"I'll fix it for you tomorrow," he promised.
She didn't move.
Yeah. It probably wasn't safe for her to spend the night in an apartment without a door. Of course he'd be right next door and he wouldn't let anything happen, but he understood if she didn't feel safe.
"You can spend the night in my apartment."
She swiveled to face him. Her face wore no expression. It had been blank pretty much since they'd left the hospital. How he longed to see those dimples, even just a flash.
"I'll sleep on the couch," he said quickly, wanting the setup to be clear.
She still didn't speak, but she turned away from her door and walked over to his, stopping to wait for him to unlock it.
He held it open and waited for her to enter, seeing the space through her eyes. It definitely had the "man-cave" thing going. The living room had nothing but a television and couch. No decorations hung on the walls. He didn't have any stuff to fill the corners yet.
"It's ah… pretty basic."
She smiled faintly, looking around. "Thanks for letting me stay here."
He waved at the couch. "Do you… uh… want to watch TV?"
She shook her head. "No thanks." She turned back to the door. "I'm going to go brush my teeth and stuff."
"Sure. Okay."
She walked out the door, but he heard her stop in the hallway.
He listened to the silence.
She was scared to go in alone. He didn't blame her.
He rose from the couch and walked out his front door. Sure enough, she stood in front of her door again, staring in exactly the same position she'd been when he'd offered to let her stay with him.
"Come on. I'll go in with you."
She looked over her shoulder at him and swallowed, wincing as if the movement of her throat pained her. "Okay. Thanks." She pushed the door open gingerly, probably afraid it might fall off the hinges. Which it might. When he replaced it, he would install a solid door that couldn't be kicked in so easily. With decent locks.
He put his hand on her lower back and guided her inside. "Do you want me to have a look around first?"
She shook her head. "No." Her voice sounded raspy. "I'm sure it's fine."
"I'll be right here." He folded his arms across his chest and adopted the look of her bodyguard. Which at this moment, he was. No one would be giving her any hassle again, if he had anything to do with it. Dimples didn't deserve it. She hadn't deserved anything that had happened to her tonight.
She scampered toward the bedroom like she didn't want to make him wait. He heard the sound of water running in the bathroom. A few minutes later, she came out, dressed in an old t-shirt and the cutest pair of boy-shorts he'd ever seen.
She wasn't trying to look sexy, which was exactly what made it rip-roaring hot.
His cock went rigid, pushing painfully against the zipper of his jeans. Damn—the way she filled that t-shirt! Her bra-less breasts stretched the thin, worn fabric taut, nipples protruding in stiff peaks. The shorts hugged her ass. She wasn't wearing panties underneath them.
Jesus, he wanted to pull those shorts down, part her legs and lick her pussy until she screamed.
And… that was exactly the wrong thought to have at this moment.
He needed to pull it together. She wasn't looking for sex right now, for God's sake.
She licked her lips, staring up at him with those pale green eyes. It wasn't right that she should be that drop dead gorgeous. It shouldn't be legal.
He held out his hand.
She looked at it in surprise—the same surprise he felt at having offered it. What? Was he playing at being her boyfriend now? It didn't matter though, he wasn't going to retract it. He wasn't going to be an asshole to her. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again, the way he felt right now.
Something had shifted for sure.
Her hand fit in his, small and warm. He liked the trusting way she gave it to him, how she looked up at him, like he might erase all her fears, at least for the night.
"Come on," he murmured and led her back to his place. "Do you need anything? A snack or something?" He seriously wanted to serve her cookies and milk. Or hot tea. Or whatever would be comforting. The Dom in him sensed the need for aftercare. He'd forgotten what it was like, but he'd missed it on some level.
She shook her head. She hadn't said much. Maybe her throat hurt from being strangled. He didn't mind the quiet.
"You sure you don't want to watch TV? The Bourne Identity is on."
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "No… I'll just go to bed. Thanks."
She padded to his bedroom and pushed the door closed, but didn't shut it all the way. Despite her assertion that she was going to bed, he heard her moving around his bedroom and the light never went out.
Should he check on her?
"Kaitlyn?" He called her name softly, in case she was asleep. But loud enough that if she was awake, she'd come back out. He had a feeling going straight to bed wasn't going to be the best thing after a trauma. And he'd had plenty of experience.
She didn't answer, but he heard movements from his room. What in the hell was she doing in there?
He didn't want to intrude, but he didn't want to leave her hanging on her own and feeling raw. That's how he found himself standing outside the door, peering through the gap.
Holy hell.
She was looking through his bedside drawer—the one where he kept the kinky shit. Like lube and butt plugs and… yeah. She picked up a hand paddle and spun it around. He ought to be ashamed of himself. Instead, seeing her curiosity sent a fresh surge of lust kicking through him.
"Shouldn't you be in bed? Getting some rest?"
She jerked and looked up with guilty surprise on her face. "Uh… is this yours?" She spun the paddle around like she admired the feel of it—not like someone who was revolted.
"Yep." He raised an eyebrow, doing his best to look stern. "Do you need a demonstration?" He toed the door open and folded his arms across his chest.
Her full berry lips parted, tongue darted out to moisten them. Her nipples tented the thin fabric of her shirt. "Yeah."
Yeah?
He hadn't expected that answer.
A flush had crept over her cheeks and her eyes looked dilated.
Oh God. He'd been thinking about spanking her ripe little ass since the day he first met her. But no… it was a terrible idea. She had no clue what she'd be getting herself into. He shook his head. "Sorry Dimples. I don't think you have any idea what you're saying."
Her chin kicked up a notch. "Don't be so sure, Marine."
Was that a challenge? His cock liked her sass. Too much. He should definitely not be getting spanky with this girl right now. "Nope. You need to get your rest." He raised his eyebrows and jerked his head toward the bed, doing his best attempt at Daddy-Dom, which he didn't even know was in his repertoire.
She held the paddle out to him. Her hand shook. "I need a demonstration." Her voice cracked.
"Kaitlyn." He made his voice sympathetic. "The last thing you need is to get mixed up with this sort of thing after what happened to you tonight."
She swallowed. "I want to forget. I need to feel something different. I mean… I think I might like it. Please?"
He'd like to say it was just out of sympathy that he responded to her pleading, but his cock surged and strained against his pants because the idea of dominating his sweet little neighbor heated his blood.
This was such a bad idea.
He yanked the paddle out of her hand and tossed it into the drawer. "Just my hand. Until you say red. Do you know what that means?"
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br /> She flushed the same color as her hair and shook her head, not quite meeting his eye.
He gripped her waist and pulled her away from the bed so he could sit on the edge. His fingers spread over her hips as he maneuvered her to stand between his open thighs. "It's like the traffic lights. Green means go. Yellow means caution—we need to talk or adjust something about the position. Red means stop. Got it?"
Her wide, frightened gaze should have made him pull the plug right there, but instead it turned him on. More than he ever would have imagined possible.
Jesus. He didn't think he liked sweet. She definitely wasn't his type.
Except she was. Kaitlyn Lattigard was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, and the thought of spanking her delicious little ass had him dizzy with lust. She outshone every pain slut he'd ever played with. The desire flooding his veins eclipsed any other experience he'd had.
She nodded and hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her shorts. "Do I…"
He frowned and gave his head a quick shake.
She responded, immediately yanking her thumbs out, eyes rounding. So fucking eager to please.
He nearly came in his pants.
"I get to do it. I'm in charge here until you say yellow or red."
Her flat belly visibly fluttered with her nervous inhalations.
He had no urge to calm her. No, he liked her nervous, liked her on edge. He reached for the shorts and held her gaze as he slowly tugged them down to mid-thigh. Red hair on her pubis—neatly trimmed. Fucking beautiful.
Her thighs trembled. The scent of her arousal made his head swim. He touched the gusset of her shorts.
"You're soaking wet."
She emitted a little mewl of embarrassment.
"Have you ever been spanked before, little girl?" He didn't usually use the little girl thing. He was more of the on your knees, slut, kinda guy, but she brought out a different Dominant in him.
She shook her head, her lovely red hair falling across her pale skin.
He would go easy on her. First of all, redheads marked easily. Second, she probably couldn't take more than a few slaps. Third, she'd been traumatized enough for one night—he didn't want to add to it.
* * *
Her drenched pussy pulsed between her legs, swelling more and more every second she stood there with her shorts around her thighs and her bare hoo-ha on full display.
Rob's fingers dug into her hips, his excitement evident in his heavy-lidded gaze, the bulge of his cock tenting his jeans. He patted his left thigh and turned his knees slightly to the side. "Lie over my lap, little girl."
She loved when he called her little girl. Dimples sounded condescending. Little girl carried intimacy, eroticism. She tipped forward and laid her torso on the bed, her hips resting on Rob's solid thigh. The position lifted and presented her ass to him in a thoroughly embarrassing way.
He ran his large palm over her flesh. Flames of desire licked through her. Crack. His hand slapped down on one cheek. He immediately rubbed away the sting.
She practically purred as he kneaded her bare ass.
Slap. His palm cracked down again, this time on the other cheek. Once more, he massaged away the pain, turning it into delicious pleasure. He continued toasting her ass slowly, each smack followed by a caress, until her entire backside glowed with warmth.
She'd never been spanked before. She'd certainly had a healthy curiosity about BDSM, or kink or whatever this was, but she'd never acted on it. The second she'd seen the toys in Rob's drawer, something had clicked into place. A door in her mind had opened and a lifetime of unfulfilled fantasies had tumbled out, even as her tummy had fluttered.
Rob spanked her with more force, foregoing the rubbing in between. Her breath shortened and her heart picked up speed. The slaps had a bite to them, sending tingles of pain firing to her brain, even as heat continued to burn between her legs.
She kicked her feet involuntarily and Rob clamped his free leg over the tops of hers, trapping her in place. Yes, he'd definitely done this before. The fire built in her ass, more than she wanted, more than she thought she could take.
But she had no intention of yelling red. Part of it was a pride issue—Rob didn't think she could hang and she wanted to prove she could. She didn't know what the other part was. She wanted to feel the pain, she supposed. It felt good even though it hurt. And maybe some part of her wanted to be punished. She felt shame over what had happened to her and she wanted it expunged.
As she arrived at that thought, tears pricked her eyes.
What would Rob do if she cried? Would he stop immediately and demand to know why she hadn't called red? The urge to cry grew stronger, tears welling up in her throat, bringing pressure to her face.
She let out a silent sob and water ran from her eyes.
Yes.
It felt so good to let it flow—all the trauma of the night, all the tension trapped inside her body came bubbling out. An audible sob slipped out before she could clamp her lips closed. She didn't want Rob to hear it and stop.
"It's okay, baby. You can cry," he murmured, still whaling away on her poor ass.
His words surprised her. The dam broke. Sobs poured out with the tears. Her back shook with them as her poor bottom bounced over Rob's lap with each punishing blow.
She wanted him to stop now, but the tears came too hard. She couldn't call red, all she could do was sob into the covers of his bed, while he continued to spank her into oblivion.
"Let it out, little girl. You had a rough night."
Yes, she had. His acknowledgement brought on a fresh wave of sobs. She cried so hard she lost herself, face buried in the covers, vision blocked out, sensations all overrun by the endless spanking.
Red.
She wanted to say it, but the word didn't come out of her lips.
Red. Red, okay?
Miraculously, he seemed to have heard her silent plea. He stopped spanking and ran his rough palm over her blazing, swollen cheeks.
"Owww," she sobbed into the covers.
"I know, baby." He lifted her from his lap and pulled up her shorts. The fabric felt too tight and too rough against her raw flesh. He pulled her onto his lap and tucked her head into his shoulder, holding her tight.
Yes.
This was where she'd wanted to be all night.
The sensation of safety and comfort flowed from his body into hers. She could stay cocooned there forever. She'd cried until she'd emptied out. Nothing was left inside—no angst, no fear, no shame, no anger. She had the sensation of new beginning. Blank slate.
She kissed Rob's neck.
He continued to rub her back.
She sucked a little.
"You'd better not leave a mark on me, little girl, or you'll have another spanking coming."
She giggled. She loved him playing mock-stern. He did it so well.
"I leave marks on you, not the other way around," he went on.
Heat sparked from her core outward. She liked the idea of him leaving marks on her. Of "belonging" to him.
"Are you going to make love to me?"
He snorted. "I don't make love. I fuck. Hard."
She crawled off his lap to her feet and pulled her t-shirt off over her head. "Are we going to do that, then?"
Indecision played across his face. It was the same look he'd worn when she'd asked him to spank her. She knew he was interested—she'd seen the way he looked at her body and noticed the bulge of his cock in his jeans now. She felt vulnerable standing there in just her shorts while he was fully dressed.
He reached out and touched a bruise on her neck, his forehead crinkled with concern.
"Make me forget," she whispered.
He must have arrived at some decision because he surged to his feet. "Naked."
The single word command had her pussy clenching. She yanked her shorts off.
"Hands on your head."
Oh God. Another spasm between her legs. She interlaced her fingers on the top of her head. The posi
tion lifted and spread her breasts.
"Legs apart, feet wide."
She widened her stance. Her pulse fluttered. A drip of moisture landed on the floor. She closed her eyes to block out the embarrassment of it.
"Dimples…" His voice sounded rough. He walked around behind her, trailing his palm over her hip. His fingers splayed over her belly and he pressed his hard cock against her bare, sore ass, the fabric of his jeans rough against her skin. Centimeter by centimeter he slid his hand lower until it cupped her mons, his fingers pressing against her buttons.
She jerked, a mini-orgasm rippling through her.
"You're so wet." He sounded reverent. "You're so fucking wet."
"Rob…" She wanted him inside her. She wanted that hard fucking he'd promised.
He rubbed his middle finger along her slit.
She arched, tossing her head back on his shoulder, thrusting her swollen breasts into the air. "Please…"
She'd never been this turned on before. In fact, sex had never been that great for her, in general. It hadn't been bad, just hadn't been "all that." This, however… this was blowing her mind. And they hadn't even gotten to the sex part yet.
He thrust two fingers inside her.
She ground against his knuckles, rubbing her juices all over his hand as she struggled for release. She thought she might die if she didn't find it soon.
Rob's other hand snaked around and palmed her right breast. "These are the most perfect breasts I've ever seen." His voice rumbled low and gravelly in her ear.
She forgot to keep her hands on her head, desperate for release. She clutched at his hand between her legs and thrust his fingers deeper.
"Ah ah." He abruptly withdrew his fingers. "Where should your hands be?"
"Rob." She wasn't above begging. Or whining. "Rob, please."
"Lie face down on the bed with your legs wide."
A shiver of excitement flashed through her.
He released her from his grasp and she vaulted for the bed, eager to comply. The position screamed vulnerable, especially considering the state of her already toasted ass. She heard the bedside drawer rasp open.
Oh no. Please not one of the implements she'd seen in there. The wooden paddle had looked brutal. She couldn't take any more spanking.