29. NIKOLAI #3
She twisted her head around to glare at me, her eyes blazing with defiance.
“I’ll always make my own decisions,” she seethed. “And I’ll die before I let you take that from me.”
My jaw locked, and my pulse pounded in my cock as I pressed it against her ass.
I’d nearly lost her a few minutes ago, and that pissed me the hell off.
And still she was battling me as if I were the villain in all this.
“Okay, Miss Independence,” I growled as I shifted my grip, “you can fight me all you want, but I’m going to own this ass of yours. You almost got yourself killed, AGAIN! You’re in way over your head, and you’re acting like a spoiled brat. And where I’m from, brats get their asses spanked.”
I slid an arm hard beneath her stomach and hauled her upright in one brutal motion, dragging her off the mattress, because she was nothing but mine to manhandle.
Her scream tore through the room as she thrashed, but I didn’t give her an inch.
Dropping onto the edge of the bed, I flung her across my lap, pinning her there with her wrists trapped in my grip, her ass raised exactly where I wanted it—ready for the lesson she was about to learn.
“Let me go, you psychotic fuck!” she shouted, clawing at the sheets.
I pressed my palm against the center of her back to keep her pinned. With my other hand, I grabbed the waistband of her drenched shorts and peeled the clingy fabric down to her knees in one rough motion.
She clenched her bare ass, shrieking profanities.
“I should bend you over this bed and fuck the fight right out of you,” I hissed into her ear. “Make you sore for days. So raw, so satisfied, you wouldn’t know whether to beg me to stop—or beg me for more.”
She thrashed harder. “You’re disgusting!”
“I’ve seen the books you read, Lyla. The filthy little scenes you get yourself off on when you think no one’s watching.”
She froze.
“And I’ve seen you tease your needy little clit,” I whispered darkly, “and finger fuck yourself. I’ve seen the way your eyes flutter when you moan and come all over your own hand.”
Her breath hitched—just for a second. But it was enough for me to know I’d gotten to her.
“You fucking weirdo,” she spat. “You goddamn Peeping Tom. You probably haven’t had a woman touch you willingly in your entire pathetic life.”
I smiled.
She just didn’t get it. The more she riled me up, the more I’d make her pay.
“You’re just a spoiled rich boy with daddy issues,” she snarled. “I bet you’ve had to pay for every fuck you’ve ever—”
The first slap on her ass cracked through the room like thunder.
She sucked in a breath.
I slapped her again—harder.
She bucked. Screamed. Fought like hell.
I didn’t stop.
Again. Again. Again.
My hand came down with punishing force, her ass turning pink, then red. Her legs kicked wildly. Her voice cracked as she twisted and cursed and begged.
“Stop—stop! You fucking bastard—let me go!”
“No.”
Not until she learned.
Not until she broke.
Not until I got what I needed.
“Keep fighting me, and I’ll keep going,” I growled, my palm landing hard again.
Her breath hitched. She let out a sob.
But no words.
I rubbed her sore ass cheeks, dragging my hand over the heat I’d left behind.
“Good girl,” I praised. “That’s better.”
She took a broken, shaking breath—like she might be getting ready to make another snarky remark.
I raised my hand again—a warning.
But all she let out was a low, needy little whine.
Almost like a whimper.
Almost like a sound of desire.
Something electric and raw pulsed between us, like the thunderstorm still pounding at the windows.
I didn’t move.
I just held her there.
Waiting for her to snap again—or surrender.
My hand slid over the curve of her ass, which was hot and flushed from the punishment I’d given her. I loved the heat of her in my palm, the beautiful response of her flesh under my dominance. And that was when I felt it.
She was wet.
No— drenched , dripping onto my thigh.
I growled low in my throat, letting my fingers drift down the cleft of her ass until they found her slick slit, warm and soaked. My cock pulsed hard. While she’d been fighting me with her mouth, her fists, her pride, that sweet, dripping little pussy had already surrendered.
I rubbed my fingers through her folds, slow and deep, smearing her wetness from one end to the other, dragging it up to that needy little bundle of nerves. Her body bucked.
“Oh my God—” she gasped.
“God’s not here, little lamb,” I murmured, leaning over her, brushing the wet hair from her neck. “Only the wolf.”
I nipped at the sensitive spot behind her ear, and she shivered.
She arched her back, pressing her desperate pussy against my fingers. Her breathing hitched into frantic little pants as I pressed one finger inside her—and then another. I had never slid into a woman who was this tight. She was so tight that two fingers forced her to stretch.
“Fuck,” I hissed. “You’re so tight, so soaking wet for me.”
I twisted my fingers as I pulled them back, then circled her clit with the tips—light, taunting, relentless. Her hips surged forward, chasing the pressure.
“You want to come, don’t you?” I whispered. “You want me to take you over that edge.”
“Yes,” she panted softly. “Now!” she demanded.
I ripped my hand away and brought it down hard on her ass.
She screamed.
The sound echoed off the bedroom walls.
“That’s not how you ask.”
Another slap.
“You don’t get satisfaction that easily after all the shit you’ve pulled.”
Three more smacks had her thrashing, kicking, and writhing over my thighs again, but I held her down firmly. One hand pressed down on her back while the other was lighting her up, each smack crueler than the last.
“You want to play stubborn?” I snarled. “Fine. But I’m not going to stop slapping your ass until your brain stops pretending you’re not desperate for me.”
Her whines transformed into moans.
“Feel it,” I commanded. “Feel the fire on your ass and the ache between your legs. That’s the line, Lyla. The one between pleasure and pain. You’re straddling it now.”
“Please, no more,” she sobbed. “I can’t—”
Once more, my hand pounded against her ass. She would remember her sweet punishment for the next day or two.
With two more smacks, she stilled once again.
“Yes, you can take more,” I growled. “You’re a strong little thing. Show me. Show me what happens when a good girl takes what she’s earned.”
She whimpered.
I removed my hand from her back and shoved it underneath her body, taking hold of her pussy, my fingers locking around her swollen cunt. She wriggled against me in search of the contact she was desperate to find.
“I’m going to spank your ass until you come on my fingers. Until you learn to shift your focus from the pain to the heat of your pussy against my hold. Focus, Lyla.”
I slapped her over and over, speeding up the punishing pace and delivering the intensity she needed, pushing her to her limits and then tipping her over.
Her hips shifted with each smack, her cunt rocking against my grasp, seeking friction, seeking release.
Then with a loud cry, she shattered.
Her body convulsed, legs drawing tightly together and hands clawing at the sheets as she screamed. The sound was broken, feral, fucking divine as her hot juices dripped down my fingers.
I let her ride it out, stroking my hand over her cheeks while she trembled beneath me. When she went limp, I tugged her shorts back up, then scooped her into my arms and stood. She didn’t resist.
I carried her to the en suite like a king holding his conquered queen.
She was still dazed, and her breath was hitching softly. I stood her in front of the vanity, facing her toward the mirror, my arms bracketing her.
“Look,” I whispered, bending down to her ear. “Look at how beautiful you are when you’re satisfied.”
She blinked—stunned, flushed, perfect.
“When you behave,” I added, kissing her just below her ear, “you’re exquisite.”
She whimpered.
I smiled.
Gave her ass one last pat.
“Get cleaned up.”
Then I turned and walked away, already thinking of all the ways I’d ruin her next. She would be mine. Every inch. Every breath.
And she’d beg for it.