Desired by a Dangerous Man

by Cleo Peitsche

  My face got hotter and hotter, and I wondered if my skin could reach a high enough temperature to set the carpet on fire.

  He jerked his hand in my hair. “What do you say?”

  “What?” I asked. “Sure, whatever. You’re right,” I said quickly.

  “Someone has an attitude today,” he said, his voice deep, rumbling. He was, I could tell, extremely pleased, and a moment later I had physical proof as he ran the flat of his palm over my ass cheeks, then…

  Thwap.

  I groaned as heat rushed to the entire area. Not just the skin he had slapped, but also between my legs, which was warm and already very, very wet. When he pulled my panties away, he was going to find that they were soaked.

  If he pulled them away.

  Talking back to Corbin was a good way to find myself punished by a frustrated, sexless night. Even though I enjoyed his spankings very much, Corbin enjoyed them even more. He was, I had come to realize, perfectly happy to give me a thorough ass-warming and call it a night.

  I hated it when he withheld sex. It felt cruel. It was cruel. After all, he was getting me all worked up, then denying me.

  He smacked my other cheek, his fingers whipping against my skin. It hurt much, much more than when he simply put me over his lap and punished me soundly, and what had started as a soft, anticipatory whimper turned into a needy, groveling wail.

  “Are you hot?” he asked.

  “Temperature wise?” I cracked, unable to control myself. “A little.”

  “Wrong answer,” he said sternly, and slammed my ass twice, both with whipping fingers that stung. “Try again.”

  “I’m hot if you say I am,” I groaned.

  “Discuss.”

  I groaned again. Corbin had missed his calling. He should have been headmaster of a boarding school for wild girls.

  He smacked me with his palm. Layered atop the previous stings, the blunt force was far more uncomfortable than it would have been otherwise, and I hiccuped out an embarrassingly deep moan.

  “Discuss,” he repeated.

  “My ass is attractive to you,” I blurted.

  “Describe it.”

  Aw, come on! I wanted to scream. Corbin had some kind of sixth sense about what would make me most uncomfortable at any given moment. Sometimes it was forcing me to endure a very thorough pussy licking—the kind that included every square millimeter of skin between my legs, from the front and all the way to the back.

  Sometimes it was nonsense like this.

  I didn’t have body image issues, but I wasn’t ever going to find a woman who looked like me on a magazine cover. The closest I’d ever seen was some of the bodybuilding mags, but I didn’t have the genes to get down to zero percent body fat, either.

  The truth was that my body was functional. The muscles served a purpose, kept me safe when I was dealing with criminal types. I was strong, even if it didn’t necessarily seem like it when Corbin was using his far stronger body to keep me submissive.

  “You seem to be having a rough time,” he said, “so let me help you. Better yet, let me show you. Get up.”

  “Please, I’ll be good,” I begged, pressing my shoulders harder into the floor as I wiggled my hips, hoping to entice him into changing his mind.

  “Disobedient,” he said. “I wish I had a hairbrush so I could give you the paddling you’re so obviously begging for. I suppose I’ll have to make do.”

  And he did. With his palms. He spanked my ass thoroughly, the blows raining so quickly on my skin that it sounded like someone clapping enthusiastically.

  Then my cries drowned out the sounds, and I did my best to scramble up to my knees, then to my feet.

  “Much better,” he said, grabbing the flashlight. The low growl of his voice roughly caressed my ears as he hustled me into the bathroom.

  Walking with my pants down around my knees wasn’t easy, but I was motivated. Corbin shined the light at the mirror, and the bathroom filled with a soothing glow.

  “Turn around,” he said gruffly.

  I did.

  “Stop,” he said. I had my back to the mirror, mostly. “Look over your shoulder.”

  Oh, I didn’t want to, but I twisted my torso, dipping my shoulder because I knew what he wanted me to look at.

  The first thing I noticed about my ass was how red it was.

  Corbin ran his hands over it. I gasped. He squeezed it, digging his fingers in more as his breath quickened. “This ass,” he said, squeezing harder, possessively. “It’s round and firm but soft… so soft.”

  He unzipped his pants, and my heart leaped into my throat. In the mirror, my attention was on his swollen shaft. From a distance, it was difficult to imagine that his large erection could fit into any of my holes. It seemed inconceivably hard, dangerously unforgiving.

  Corbin turned me. “Hands on the wall,” he said as he positioned them on the flat surface, just a few inches higher than my shoulders. “Keep looking,” he said, taking himself in hand.

  I trained my gaze on the mirror. I had to admit, partially bent over like this and just at the edges of the reflected light, my ass almost looked good. But what looked even better was the large man coming up behind me, sliding my legs farther apart, his large hand wrapped around his substantial girth.

  Exhaling, I found myself arching a bit. In the mirror, the pose was unmistakable: horny girl wants fucking.

  Corbin leaned over me.

  The heat of his cock practically seared my soft inner thighs.

  He yanked up my shirt and bra, and my breasts hung down, my stiff nipples pointing at the floor.

  I watched as he straightened up again and smacked my ass. The flesh jiggled, and I closed my eyes, embarrassed.

  “No,” he said. “I want you to watch.”

  If I didn’t obey, he’d punish me until I did, or until I used my safe word. But this wasn’t a safe word sort of situation, so I opened my eyes and turned my attention back to the two figures in the mirror.

  The head of Corbin’s cock traced between my folds, and I gasped. He was getting his shaft wet before entering me.

  I wanted him. Badly. But I bit back a moan and waited for him to do it his way. He would, regardless, and it was always more fun that way.

  His swollen head, now slick, nudged my flesh. My pulse thrummed between my legs, and my pussy felt… heavy. Heavy and very, very hot.

  In the mirror, there wasn’t much to see. Corbin’s arm was blocking my view.

  He dropped his hand, rolled back his shoulder, and I had a perfect angle to see… everything.

  His long, hard length was just barely in my pussy. Damn, but he really was large. I found that my mouth had gone dry in anticipation, and I licked my lips. In the mirror my reflection did, too, my expression turning horrified.

  Corbin laughed. “Baby, you make so many sexy sounds and faces when we fuck. You’re fun as hell. No wonder my cock is always hard around you.”

  As he spoke, he began thrusting forward, opening me, pushing his way into my sex. My head came up more, the hollow of my back deepened, and my hips and ass… were on display.

  It was obscene, pornographic. My fingers curled helplessly on the wall.

  Then Corbin began thrusting in earnest, and I wanted to die. In the mirror, my flesh shivered, shimmied, shook, rippled. Wobbled.

  I turned away.

  “Keep watching,” he said. “This is what I see. Do you feel how hard my cock is? It’s pure instinct, baby. My dick…” He banged harder into me. “I can’t get enough. My woman. My gorgeous, perfect woman.”

  It was unfair. Making me stare at my naked body while he pounded into my ass, my flesh jiggling.

  And underneath all that jiggle, so much muscle.

  But I couldn’t deny what he’d said.

  His cock was hard. Stiff like he might come at any moment.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead he continued fucking me. And as horrified as I was by the entire scenario, he was hitting all the right angl
es. The slightly musky scent of my arousal was heavy in the air.

  “Goddamn, you’re so wet.”

  He slammed in, held himself there, and I was pitching forward, trying to brace myself against the wall.

  Corbin pulled out. He turned me, pulled off one of my shoes, took my jeans and panties down to my ankles.

  I watched him in the mirror, marveling at how broad his shoulders were, how muscular his back was and how the muscles rippled as he pulled my right leg free.

  He leveraged his hands under my knees, spreading them wide, and plowed into me with a single, claiming thrust. The head of his cock, swollen as he was, massaged my G-spot.

  “Play with yourself,” he ordered, and even though my shoulders were now pinned against the wall, and part of me was afraid of falling, I did what he said.

  He would never drop me. That I knew for sure.

  My clit was slippery wet, and my finger glided easily over the nub. It was stiff. Hard.

  “Faster,” he said. “Make yourself come. I want to feel you milking my cock.”

  I moved my finger faster, stroking across my nub.

  “Look in the mirror,” he said.

  I glanced up at him and wished I hadn’t, wished I had simply obeyed.

  The open lust on his face was flattering, but the scrutiny in those electric blue-green eyes was terrifying. My hand slowed, and I swallowed.

  “Baby, I’m gonna fuck you hard, and you’re going to come. Unless you want me to finish in your ass, look in the mirror and make yourself come.”

  Hearing a man say those words was bad enough, but looking into his eyes while he said them?

  It was torture.

  I pulled my gaze away and did as he demanded, looking at our reflection. The leg closest to the mirror was still clothed. The jeans were all the way down by my sneaker, and the second leg of my jeans hung below. With each of Corbin’s thrusts, it swung, jerked.

  Slowly, my gaze traced upward.

  In this position, I didn’t look like a plateful of pudding, so that was nice. Instead I got to focus on the breadth of Corbin’s fingers spreading under my thighs.

  The muscles in his forearms were tense, corded. I could even see the veins.

  “Play with yourself.”

  My fingers began sliding over my clit again, and almost instantly Corbin got even more slippery inside me.

  It was hot. He was still too large for my pussy, and as the spasms began racking my body, I felt my sex squeezing around him, sucking him, trying to milk him.

  Corbin’s response was a guttural growl as he increased his speed.

  “You feel so good, baby, smell so good…”

  I orgasmed. Hard. My cries and moans echoed around the small bathroom.

  Corbin kept pounding away, even when I became too sensitive for his attention and tried to wiggle free.

  His fingers tightened on me. “Be still or you’ll fall,” he warned. In the mirror, his back looked so broad.

  “Let me suck your fingers,” he said. “Use your other hand on your clit.”

  Swallowing nervously, I did as he asked. The hand that had been braced against the wall—not that it would have been any use if he had dropped me—descended to my nub.

  I lifted my other hand, the fingers wet, toward Corbin. He ducked his head, sucked them into his mouth, his full lips pulling them in more as his tongue licked and danced and sucked.

  Sometimes during sex, he made me suck his fingers. It made me feel slutty and submissive and a little vulnerable, and I always came so hard when his fingers were in my mouth.

  This was different, but it wasn’t any less dominant on his part. Funny how he could make it work. But I was trapped behind his pistoning cock, and he had my fingers, had me caught up against the wall.

  He had me exactly where he wanted, and I orgasmed again.

  He came hard and fast, and my gaze darted to the mirror. The muscles in his ass went completely taut—amazing how I could see that even through the denim of his jeans.

  I felt it inside me, too, the spasms and pumps and swells and contractions.

  Slowly, Corbin let my fingers slide from his mouth, and he released my legs, one at a time. I wobbled, unable to support my own weight, but I didn’t need to because he was there, making sure everything was fine.

  He caught my face and stared into my eyes. “Feeling better about the construction?”

  “Yeah,” I said. Now that I wasn’t so horny, I definitely regretted the impromptu proposal. Other than that? I felt great.

  Who was I kidding? There was no “other than that.” He’d said he’d think on it, and that meant I’d have to wait for his answer. It wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  I nodded and found it surprisingly easy to smile. “Absolutely,” I said. “This was a fitting goodbye.”

  He grinned. “It’s a new beginning, baby. I can promise you that.”

  Chapter 18

  Corbin and I got ready for bed together, but instead of joining me between the sheets, he said, “I’m going to work for a bit. You get some rest.” He pressed a tender kiss to my lips.

  I nodded, yawned, closed my eyes. I heard him go down the hallway.

  After a couple of minutes of silence, I got out of bed and quietly went looking for a glass of water. Or for Corbin. The answer would depend on whether he saw me or not.

  The television was off, the living room, dining room, kitchen all dark. He could have been in one of the guest bedrooms, I supposed, but I knew better.

  Barely daring to breathe, I made my way to his office.

  A sliver of light, like a line drawn in thin marker, was etched on the floor.

  Well, at least I knew where he was.

  What would happen, I wondered, if I knocked, asked him to let me in. To truly let me in.

  He’d say he needed to think about it.

  Curious, I slid forward and slowly pressed my ear to the door. The building was new and largely soundproof, so I didn’t expect to hear anything.

  And at first, I didn’t.

  But then… It sounded like screaming. Was he watching a movie? If so, why wasn’t he playing it on the television?

  Definitely screaming. People who sounded terrified.

  Maybe it was some kind of really twisted porn. God, I hoped not, because if that was what he was into, then I was screwed. For me to make sounds like that, I’d have to have been in severe physical pain.

  I furrowed my brow, concentrating.

  There was a sound, an explosion? More screams.

  Ok, so a TV show or a movie.

  Then, the rhythmic sounds of a woman panting.

  Oh, god. Maybe it was some kind of porn.

  Horrified, I backed away from the door, then turned and went right to bed.

  A few minutes later, Corbin came into the room. “Audrey?” he asked.

  I made a muffled noise and turned over. “Yeah?” I said, hoping I sounded groggy.

  “Is everything ok?”

  “Uh-hmm,” I said. Then, “Why?”

  “You came to the office. I thought you needed something.”

  I didn’t have a reply for that. I also didn’t have the balls to ask him what he’d been doing.

  He got into the bed. “You’re sure you’re fine with the construction on the office?” He sounded so worried.

  “Yeah. Really.”

  “Ok.” He kissed my shoulder. “I love you. I’ve got a few more hours of work, so I’ll be quiet when I come in.”

  Work. Yeah, right. I managed to ask sweetly, “Is the work going well?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “It actually is.” He sounded so happy that I didn’t know if I should be disgusted or impressed. He went out and this time, he closed the door. I wondered if he did it to slow me down, in case I came creeping out of the bedroom again.

  Maybe it wasn’t porn… but it sure had sounded like it.

  Snuff porn.

  The sort of thing that I imagined c
areer assassins might watch.

  “Stop it,” I told myself. The gulf between BDSM and the creepy stuff I’d overheard was enormous. If Corbin needed that, then he was a complete stranger to me. It probably wasn’t porn at all. I was just on edge because of Henry, because of Corbin’s reaction to my idiotic, poorly time marriage proposal.

  I did know one thing for sure. Corbin wasn’t doing work.

  I woke to the smell of cinnamon and warm bread. French toast.

  The door was open, the bed next to me rumpled.

  I sat up and tried to remember my dreams, but they’d already scattered. Probably just as well considering what I’d been thinking about when I fell asleep.

  My phone showed the time as almost eight. Wow. I’d finally gotten a decent night of sleep.

  Quickly, I shot a text off to Rob. When and where?

  He texted back. Eleven. I’ll pick you up.

  The last thing I wanted was to hang out in the condo for several hours with Corbin. Maybe I’d go to the gym.

  Corbin leaned into the bedroom. He was already dressed. “You’re awake.”

  “Apparently,” I said grumpily.

  “Come out to the balcony,” he said.

  I threw on some frumpy clothes and went down the long hall. I saw two place settings, a pitcher of orange juice.

  Corbin walked out of the kitchen, carrying a plate heaped high with golden-brown french toast. “You might not be in the mood for anything orange flavored so soon,” he said. “I’ve got apple juice in the refrigerator if you prefer.”

  If I told him that I wasn’t hungry, he’d want to know why, so I simply said, “I’m happy with water.”

  “Go on. Have a seat.” He was in such a good mood, better than I’d seen in weeks. Stupidly, it made me feel guilty for being upset with him.

  But I didn’t plan on telling him what I’d heard in his office, and I wasn’t in the mood to argue about Henry, so I walked out to the patio and took a seat.

  Corbin served us both and poured me a glass of water. “I have something planned for next weekend,” he said.

  “I’m busy.”

  Corbin looked a little startled. “Can’t you change it?”