Chapter Eleven
Lorenzo
My lips curl into a wicked smirk as she stands there, face flushed, eyes wide with rage, or maybe something else she’s too proud to admit. Her hands are balled into fists, and she’s gripping that pen like she wants to jam it through my throat.
Cute.
“Have you lost your mind?” she spits, her voice shaking just enough to give her away. She’s furious, but underneath it, her body betrays her. I can smell it. I can feel it.
I almost laugh, but I don’t. I let the silence hang heavy between us, feeding off her anger like it’s oxygen.
“How many minutes were you late, sweetheart?” My voice drops into something cruel, something low and dangerous. I already know the answer. She knows I know. That’s what makes it fun.
Her jaw tightens. “What, are you deaf?” she snaps, fire in her tone. “I already said I was five minutes late.”
I hum, slow and deliberate. “Hmm. Five minutes late. That’s five spankings.”
Her cheeks flush deeper. Her whole face is crimson now, probably from rage. Or maybe from the idea of it.
That’s the part that drives me crazy, she hates me, but her body? Her body’s fucking honest.
“I beg your finest pardon?” she hisses, all polished sarcasm. But her lips part slightly, and I watch her throat work as she swallows. Her eyes dart to the door like she’s weighing her options. She won’t run. Not really.
I close the distance between us, fast and smooth, my body practically gliding toward hers. I hook my finger under her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes.
Those eyes.
Big, brown, and doe-like. I wonder what they’ll look like when she’s crying for me. When she’s drooling, her mascara smudged, my cock so deep she forgets her own name.
Her breath catches in her throat. She’s frozen, good girl, and I can feel her pulse racing under my fingertips.
“Now bend over,” I whisper, my lips grazing her ear. My breath fans over her neck, and she shivers.
Fucking hell. That reaction goes straight to my cock.
Her lips part again, and for a second I think she’s about to obey me. But then she snaps.
Her hand flies up, and she slaps me, quick, sharp, palm stinging red.
I barely feel it, but I catch her wrist before she can try again. I tighten my grip just enough to remind her who she’s dealing with.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she growls, her voice trembling, but she’s still glaring at me. Defiant. Brave little thing.
I lean down, dragging my mouth close to her ear again. My cock presses against her abdomen, and she knows it.
She fucking knows it.
“That’ll be six spanks now.” My voice is silk-wrapped violence, soft but edged like a razor.
Her other hand twitches, like she’s about to slap me again. I catch that wrist too, pinning both hands behind her back with ease.
“Wanna go for seven, princess?” I murmur against her neck, letting my lips ghost over her skin. She smells like vanilla and something sweeter underneath, fear mixed with desire. That combination makes my cock twitch.
Before she can answer, I spin her around and press her tiny body flat against the desk.
Bent over just like I wanted.
“Lorenzo…” Her voice cracks when she says my name.
It’s a fucking plea, and my cock throbs painfully in my jeans.
Her skirt rides up with barely a tug, exposing white lace stretched tight over her ass.
For fuck’s sake.
She came here dressed like this. For me.
That silk blouse, those fuck-me heels, her lips glossed, her hair curled soft like she’s innocent when she’s anything but.
I trail my palm up her thigh, my fingers sliding over smooth skin. Her muscles tense, but she doesn’t move away.
Good girl.
“This isn’t how you dressed for your first appointment, Serena,” I whisper, my lips right at the shell of her ear. “This look? This was for me, wasn’t it?”
She’s trembling under my touch, but she stays quiet, biting her lip so hard it’ll bleed.
“Say it,” I demand, my hand smoothing over the curve of her ass, fingertips teasing the edge of her thong. “I want to hear you say it.”
When she doesn’t answer, I give her the first slap, sharp, precise, right over the lace. The sound echoes off the walls, and her body jerks under my hand.
Her breath hitches. But she doesn’t tell me to stop.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I growl against her neck, kissing the spot just below her ear, “you’re in so much trouble.”
I hear the venom in her voice, but it only makes me harder.
“Screw you, Lorenzo” she spits, trying to sound fierce, but I feel the tremble in her body, the way her legs shiver under my grip.
My smirk deepens.
Oh, sweetheart, you’re already mine.
I slide my fingers to her thong, brushing against the soaked fabric.
Fucking wet.
Her breath catches in her throat, and her whole body tenses, trying to hide it. But you can’t fake this. You can’t lie to me with a pussy this wet.
“You’re trembling,” I whisper, my lips right against her ear, my voice dripping with cruel amusement. “And you’re soaked.”
Her thighs clench together but it’s too late. I’ve already felt it. She wants this.
I loop the leather belt between my hands, letting it slide across her ass, teasing.
“I want you to count,” I demand, my tone like steel wrapped in silk. She glares at me over her shoulder, eyes wild, lips parted. Her hair’s a mess, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose, and fuck, she’s beautiful like this.
I give her the first strike, sharp, precise, the belt kissing her ass with a loud crack.
Her body jerks, a moan breaking from her lips before she can swallow it down.
“That was one,” I remind her, tapping her ass again with the belt, letting the leather linger this time. “And I said count.”
Her legs shake. Her breathing is uneven.
“One,” she finally whispers, her voice barely holding together.
Good girl.
I deliver the next spank, the belt hitting just beneath the first, leaving a perfect red stripe.
“Two.”
The next strike lands harder. This one makes her knees buckle slightly, her hands gripping the edge of the desk so tight her knuckles go white.
“Three.”
Her voice cracks on the word, and my cock throbs at the sound.
I press the leather against her again, but this time, my other hand slides between her legs. My thumb finds her clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles. She tries to hold still, but her hips betray her, pushing back into my hand, into the belt.
Fuck. She’s fucking dripping. Her panties are useless now, just wet lace clinging to trembling thighs.
I spank her again while circling her clit harder.
“Four,” she breathes, her head dropping forward, her body arching for more.
I slip her panties aside, sliding a finger inside her, and fuck, she’s so tight, so warm, so wet I could lose my fucking mind right here.
Another spank, harder this time, the crack of leather echoing in the room.
“Five,” she chokes out, her walls clenching around my finger. Her hips grind into my hand, desperate, chasing friction.
I keep my thumb on her clit, slow enough to torture her, fast enough to keep her right at the edge.
Another spank.
“Six.” Her voice is hoarse now, her legs shaking, her thighs slick against my hand. She’s close. So close.
Her little cunt clenches around my finger like she’s about to come, and that’s when I pull away, ripping my hand from her pussy and letting her crash back into frustration.
She spins around, eyes glassy, lips parted, chest heaving.
I watch her try to collect herself, try to hide how badly she wants me to finish what I started.
Too bad. This wasn’t for her.
I lick my finger, tasting her arousal, staring her dead in the eyes.
“You don’t get to come, princess,” I whisper darkly, leaning in so close our lips almost touch. “This was a punishment, remember?”
Her lips part like she wants to argue, but no words come out.
She’s dripping, her thighs still trembling, her cheeks red, her hair a mess.
Perfect.
But fuck, my cock is so hard it’s almost painful.
The way she’s sprawled over the desk, skirt bunched around her waist, those soft white panties pushed aside, her tiny cunt glistening, dripping for me, it’s a vision I’ll have burned into my mind for the rest of my life.
Her ass is red from my belt, her chest rising and falling fast, sweat pooling between her breasts, her face flushed in anger and arousal.
And fuck, that face, she’s glaring at me like she wants to kill me, but her thighs are still trembling, her lips still parted, and that pussy’s still fucking wet.
She doesn’t know whether to scream at me or beg for more.
Before she can decide, I grab her thighs and lift her, placing her right on top of the desk like she’s a fucking gift wrapped just for me.
I step between her legs, my cock pressing against her clit through my jeans.
The friction makes her moan, soft, desperate, and it’s fucking addictive.
Her hips roll in sync with mine, tiny movements that make my jaw clench.
If she keeps grinding like that, I’m gonna blow in my pants like a fucking teenager.
“Say it,” I growl, my lips at her ear, my cock pressed right against her, motionless now. But she’s still moving, grinding, whimpering, chasing the friction. Fuck, she’s so sensitive, her eyes fluttering, her back arching just from rubbing against me.
“Say what?” she breathes, voice all soft and fucked out.
I smirk against her skin. “Am I your type now, princess?”
Her eyes roll back just a little, hips pressing harder into me.
“Maybe,” she whispers, teasing, cocky, but her hands slide up around my neck anyway, pulling me close like she needs something to hold on to.
My cock throbs as I grind against her clit again, and she moans, small and desperate, right into my ear. Her shirt slips open at the top, buttons popping from the motion, and fuck, her tits bounce with every move. I want to suck on them until she comes undone, until she comes just from nipple play.
My control snaps, but I catch it just in time.
This is a punishment, I remind myself. Not pleasure. Not yet.
“Do you want to know how I feel, princess?” I whisper, pushing harder against her clit, her whole body twitching.
“Yes,” she gasps, eyes locked on mine, pupils blown wide, her mouth so close to mine I could taste her breath.
Her voice drops, barely a whisper now. “Yes, please.”
And fuck. There it is.
I could ruin her right here. I could slide inside her right now and she’d take it. She’d beg for it. She’s already there.
But I won’t. Not yet.
With every ounce of strength I have, I pull back, stepping away from her, leaving her sprawled out and dripping on the desk. My cock throbs against my zipper, but I don’t move toward her. I just smirk.
“I told you I’d have you begging in no time,” I remind her, my voice low, taunting, cruel.
Her expression shifts instantly, rage flickering behind her eyes as she realizes I’m done, that I’m leaving her like this. All wet. All needy. All mine.
She scrambles to fix herself, yanking her skirt down, wiping the sweat from her brow, her eyes burning holes through me.
But I’ve already turned my back.
I toss the belt casually over my shoulder and head for the door, leaving her in that room with fifteen minutes left on the clock, fifteen minutes to sit in that soaked little cunt and think about me.
“Don’t be late next time,” I throw over my shoulder, my voice full of wicked amusement.
Her silence is loud. Her hatred is louder. But underneath that?
She wants more.
And fuck, so do I.
But first?
I need a cold fucking shower.