Chapter 8
MADISON
This can’t be real. Seth isn’t shoving me away—he’s bossing me around, telling me sexy things.
The feel of him behind me, hard and commanding, makes me forget about our issues. It makes me forget our problems with each other.
It makes me wet.
“Where’s your phone?” Seth grabs my handbag, passes it to me. “Call him now, Madison. Make sure he’s on board with me fucking you at the baseball stadium.”
In everything he says, there’s an undercurrent of stern disapproval that sends little flares of pleasure to my pussy. It’s been going on since we got here. It makes me want to rebel more, to see just how far I can push him until he loses control.
I snatch my phone from my bag and hold it up. “You want me to call Damiano?”
“Do it. Stop stalling, little girl.”
My mouth falls open. “Little girl?”
“You’re acting like a bratty little girl. So I’ll treat you like a bratty little girl. Now call him before I take you over my knee and spank you.”
“I’d like to see you try—”
The words are no sooner out of my mouth than he’s maneuvering me into his grasp, my arms locked behind me. He drags me backward with him until he’s sitting in his chair and I’m bent over his thighs, ass in the air.
He grabs the back of my thigh, strong hand gripping my flesh. “Since you won’t call Damiano, little girl, I will. And I’ll do it while spanking you silly. He’ll get to hear every slap, and every squeal you make.”
I’m breathless with shock. I can’t believe I’m in this position, but Seth’s hands hold me in place. The Rattlesnakes hat I was wearing slips from my head to the floor beneath me. Seth’s cock, rigid as an iron bar, presses against my stomach.
“Damiano, hey.” He grabs the hem of my skirt, lifting it an inch. “A little girl is misbehaving in your private box at the stadium. I’m putting you on video.”
My face burns with humiliation.
Damiano’s voice comes through the phone speaker. “Beautiful Madison, is that you draped over Seth’s lap?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He tsks like he’s disappointed, but I can tell, even without seeing him, that he’s pleased. “Were you naughty?”
“No.” My voice is sulky. “I just figured out that the Surf Rats suck, so I cheered for the Rattlesnakes, and Seth got all grumpy about it.”
“You have been goading me into punishing you since we arrived, and you know it.” Seth lifts my skirt all the way up, so the cool, air-conditioned air kisses my panty-clad ass. “I’m going to spank you. Feel free to use your safe word…or don’t.”
He pauses, giving me a chance to stop this. But I don’t want to stop it. I want his hands on me, any way I can get them. I pushed for this—he’s right, I’ve been purposefully bothering him this entire time.
“Little Miss M was worried you’d be disappointed in her,” Seth says to Damiano. “I said we’d call to check in. Would you like to watch her punishment? I’m going to spank her, then fuck her, then she’ll sit in my lap for the remainder of the innings. And she’ll cheer for the correct team.”
Does he think he’s going to scare me with this kind of talk? No freaking way.
“I would love to watch her punishment.” Damiano’s voice is dark silk. “Look at those lacy panties she’s wearing. It’s like she knew she would be on display. Miss M, did you plan this?”
“No,” I gasp. At least, I don’t think I did. Not consciously.
Seth’s hand comes down hard on my ass. No warning. He already gave me the chance to stop things. I didn’t—I won’t. But the sting is surprising, and I cry out.
He leans over me to murmur in my ear. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You will address me as Sir when we’re in a scene like this,” he says.
Another warm thrill moves through me, as hot as my skin is becoming. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” But in direct contrast to the praise, he spanks me again.
This time, I don’t make a sound. I focus on the spreading warmth over my ass cheeks, especially when he switches over to spanking the other cheek. He alternates, back and forth.
“You’re awfully quiet, bella,” Damiano says through the phone. “Does it hurt?”
“A little, Sir.”
Something unspoken goes between the two men, and the next spanking is harder, sparking even more heat. I gasp.
“Two more, brat.” Seth spanks me twice more, just as hard as the last one.
Breathless, I lie limp over his lap.
“You did well, little girl.” He pulls my skirt back down and squeezes my ass.
“Ow, ow.” I try to wiggle out of his grasp.
“Up you go.” He sets me on my feet and walks me over to the table where he’d had me bent forward earlier. There, he rests his phone against the bucket of cool drinks, aiming it toward me. Damiano’s face fills the screen, his brown eyes dark with lust as he watches me.
I wave at him. “Hi.”
He fights a smile. “You misbehaved, bella. Have you no remorse?”
“I have…some remorse.”
“You’ll have a lot when you’re trying to squirm on my dick and I won’t let you move.” Seth’s voice is low and raspy as he pulls a condom from his wallet. He shoves down his slacks and grabs his cock.
I’ve never seen him like this before, and I can’t help but stare. He’s seen me naked, but never the other way around. He’s always held back. And I get it—Kyle was his brother. But he doesn’t seem to be thinking about Kyle now. I’m glad. This isn’t about Kyle—it’s about Seth, me, Damiano.
It’s about lust, pleasure, and pain. It’s about control, and relinquishing control.
Damiano’s gaze is heated as he watches through the phone.
Seth yanks down my underwear before nudging my legs apart with his knee. “I won’t be gentle, brat.”
“Good.” I wiggle my ass.
He spanks me again—a fiery slap against my already-abused skin—then lines himself up with my entrance. His tip teases me, the thick crown prying at my sensitive pussy. Then, with a growl, he slides in.
I moan at his thick intrusion. I can barely move, he has me pinned against the table. Beyond the window, the baseball game continues. I can’t tell which team is at bat, and I don’t even care. Other fans are sitting right up against our private box, oblivious to Seth and me. This is so twisted.
And so fucking good.
“What are you thinking, bella?” Damiano asks. “What are you thinking while Seth fucks you at the game?”
“I’m thinking”—I break off in a gasp as Seth pulls out before slamming back in again—”I’m thinking I like it. It feels good.”
“But you aren’t feeling remorse for riling him up.” Damiano shakes his head in mock disappointment.
How can I feel remorse, when the consequence is so amazing? I want to rile him up again and again.
Seth’s hand finds its way up my shirt and he pinches my nipple—hard. I yelp, but he keeps me in his tight, brutal grasp. The pain warms into pleasure, my nerves confused and dancing, the connection going straight to my clit.
I rock my hips as much as I can, trying to force Seth’s cock in and out of me.
He chuckles, the sound dark in my ear. “I don’t think so, brat. Be still. You pushed me into this, so now we’re doing it on my schedule.”
“Please…” I make eye contact with Damiano through the phone.
Damiano’s shoulder moves slowly—I think he’s jerking off. He grins. “Begging me won’t help you, bella.”
I need Seth to move. This is torture. Especially when he gives my nipple sharp, rhythmic squeezes. My pussy clamps around him in response, matching the pulsing of his fingertips. More, more, more.
“Let’s watch the game,” Seth says.
I gasp against the newest spark of pleasure-pain. “You can’t be serious.”
With his free hand, he jams a Surf Rats hat on my bed. “I’m as serious as baseball, honey.”
So, not serious at all, I want to retort. But I’ve probably pushed him far enough. I’m getting what I wanted, right? Because I can no longer pretend this is all an accident. I pissed him off on purpose—I fucked around. And now we’re in the “find out” stage.
It turns out I really like “finding out.” Even when it’s a little painful and immensely frustrating.
“I have an idea.” Seth sounds like he’s smiling, like the sadistic asshole is amused. “Every time the Surf Rats do something well, I’ll make you cheer.”
Damiano laughs. “This will be fun.”
I shoot him a look. They’re ganging up on me.
My inner muscles grip Seth’s cock, wordlessly pleading with him to move, to do something, anything. I crave friction, movement. All I have is this stubborn shaft of heat lodged within me.
“Okay, watch.” Seth uses his free hand to point at the shortstop.
Faraday throws the ball to first, and the Rattlesnakes batter is out.
Outside our box, the fans explode in cheers and whistles. Seth pumps his hips, dragging out of me before thrusting back in again. I plant my hands flat on the table, unable to do anything except let him have his way. He’s still holding onto my nipple in that terrible, wonderful pinch.
I could come like this. I’m so close.
But as the next Rattlesnakes player enters the batter’s box, Seth stops moving.
“No,” I gasp.
“Yes.” He bites, then kisses, my neck. “You better hope Lex Bryant strikes him out.”
“Come on, Lex,” I mutter, eyes locked on the game while my body simmers.
The first two pitches are balls. I tense up, waiting, hoping for something better.
In a lazy voice, Damiano says, “How’s it going out there?”
“Not well.” I frown at him.
The next three are strikes, one after the other. Yes.
I whoop in relief. Seth starts pounding into me without mercy, pushing me forward until my chest touches the table. I can only lie here, take what he’s offering. He grabs my head and turns it so I’m facing the phone, and Damiano’s dark eyes.
“Are you going to come, brat?” Seth asks. “I don’t have much patience left. So if you want to come, you better do it fast.”
“I’m close,” I gasp. And I’m getting closer by the second. With every confident stroke of his dick, my body grows hotter, tighter.
“Come now, little brat.” He releases my nipple.
A strange, numb pain shoots through me, and my orgasm floods my system, muscles clenching, my heart pounding, ecstasy washing through me.
Something happens in the game and the entire stadium explodes in cheers.
I don’t know what it is, all I know is the feeling of Seth pumping a final time within me and locking his hips against mine with a groan.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck, Madison.”
“I think she’s full of remorse now.” Damiano’s tone is wry, his expression sated. I think he came, too.
“So full of remorse,” I whisper.
Damiano smiles. “I’ll call you later, okay, bella?”
“Okay, Sir.”
The phone screen goes black. Seth is still pressed against me, his body warm on mine. Too soon, though, he slides out of me. He pulls up my panties, disposes of the condom, and returns to pick me up. He carries me back to his seat and holds me in his lap.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Aftercare.” He keeps his eyes on the game beyond the windows. His voice is gruff, angry, and he holds himself stiffly despite the fact I’m limp in his lap.
But I can’t get a sense of whether he’s angry at himself, at me, or at the situation. Does he regret what we’ve just done?
I hide my face against his shoulder. “Maybe…maybe we shouldn’t do this again?”
“Probably not,” he says quickly. Too quickly.
“Right.” I nod, blinking away my surprise. “Of course. It’s…”
“Inappropriate.”
I want to pound my fists on the table and shout, fuck inappropriate, and fuck your post-nut clarity, but I don’t think it would work. Instead, I sit in his lap for this so-called “aftercare,” seething.