SEVENTEEN
Georgia watched Keats go with mixed feelings. Part of her had invited him to hang out for a while because she hated the thought of leaving anyone out, especially when she’d learned today how much of an outsider Keats had been growing up. But she knew that had only been a small part of her motivation. The other, bigger part had been purely selfish and seriously ill-advised.
Something had passed between her and Keats in the hallway. It’d been brief—a blink and she would’ve missed it—but there’d been a shift. He’d checked her out, which really wasn’t anything new. Keats was a natural flirt. But this time the look hadn’t been playful. It’d been all man—alpha and hungry. He’d wanted her.
And her body had clamored to attention and responded. She’d thought maybe it was because she’d already spent a slow, sensual dinner with Colby feeding her things from his fingers. Or maybe because she wore nothing beneath the stretchy material of her dress, so she was hyperaware and sensitive. But even with all that, she knew in her gut it was something more than those simple things. It wasn’t her intense attraction to Colby bleeding over onto Keats. It was something separate and maybe just as potent.
Colby was still pressed up against her from behind, and he ran his hands over her arms. “What happened out there? You both walked in looking like you’d stolen all the cookies.”
She tensed, an old reaction surfacing, defensive. “Nothing, we just bumped into each other in the hallway. Like literally. It wasn’t—”
He turned her in his arms and gave her a soft smile. “Hey, I’m not accusing you of anything. I was just curious.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Remember, I’m not that guy. Really.”
She took a breath and nodded. He was using the words that guy generally, but it fit exactly. She needed to remember it. He wasn’t Phillip. He wasn’t going to flip his shit if she glanced at another man. “We bumped into each other and he looked at me, I don’t know, like he was going to kiss me.”
Colby seemed amused. “Did you want him to?”
“No,” she said, probably too quickly. “He’s working for me.”
“But if he weren’t?”
“He is.”
Colby smiled at that and kissed her. “That’s a very black-and-white world you’re living in, Georgia. Now”—he put his mouth close to her ear—“get on your knees and let me show you what happens when you try to change our plans without my permission.”
Her breath caught. “Here?”
He released her and grabbed one of the chairs from the dining room table. He spun it around and pointed next to it. “Here.”
Her heartbeat turned into a wild thing, but she managed to walk the few steps over to the chair and get to her knees. The tile was cool beneath her skin, hard, but the slight discomfort grounded her, giving her something to focus on.
Colby swung open a kitchen cabinet and pulled out a crock of kitchen utensils. Wooden spoons, plastic spatulas, a whisk with a thick rubber handle. She watched him with rapt attention, gnawing the inside of her lip. He walked over and set them on the table next to the chair, then reached for her. He ran his hand over the back of her head, a sweet, tender gesture, then sat and patted his leg. “Drape yourself over my thighs and flip your dress up. You wanted Keats to be part of this? Well, I’ll give you your wish. His wall shares one with the kitchen. He’ll be able to hear your first spanking.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t want to do that to him. It’s not really fair and—”
“I don’t remember asking your opinion, love. And if you’re so concerned about it, then don’t make any noise.” Instead of patting his leg again, he gripped her arm and gently guided her up and over his lap. “Now lift up your dress.”
The prone position sent her body into an instant capitulation, and any further protests seemed to fade into the loud sound of her heartbeat thumping in her ears. She reached back and dragged her dress up, exposing her naked backside. The cool air on her heated skin made goose bumps rise and the damp place between her thighs burn even hotter. Her fingertips touched the floor, and she wasn’t sure if it was the head rush from the position or something else, but she felt giddy. Colby adjusted himself beneath her, strong muscular thighs pressing into all of her softest spots.
“You look fucking sinful like this, baby,” Colby said, running a warm palm over her backside. “I can’t wait to make this pretty ass sting.”
God. Her body was throbbing already. She’d never been spanked—not in a sexual way or in a disciplinary one. But there was something about being in this position that was totally doing it for her. She had a feeling it was going to be hard to stay quiet.
He slid his hand between her thighs, finding her warm, wet secret. His thumb slid inside her and his fingers moved up to stroke her clit in tandem. “Mmm, someone’s been ready for a while.”
She gasped, trying to stay still, trying to stay quiet, but damn the man was good with his fingers. He gave her a few more strokes and then pulled away, wiping her arousal on the back of her thigh as if to say, Look, how much you want this.
It wouldn’t be a lie.
She braced for the next thing, knowing a hit of some sort would come, but instead a fingertip traced around her back opening. She jolted with surprise, but he held her down easily with his other hand. “Have you ever been taken here?”
She tried to swallow the drool pooling in her mouth. The sensation was so . . . decadent, forbidden. “With a vibrator, never sex.”
And only on her own, a handful of times, though she’d die if she had to admit that. She’d asked Phillip once if he wanted to try it, and he’d looked at her like she’d grown another head. That kind of thing did not fit into the princess image he’d painted in his head. So he’d laughed and taken it like she’d been joking with him.
“Did you enjoy it?” Colby asked, squeezing her buttock in a firm, almost painful grip, then releasing.
She shuddered from the sensation—tingling pain, not unpleasant. “I didn’t hate it.”
He chuckled, that warm low laugh of his that seemed to come from deep in that barreled chest. “Good to know.”
Then he smacked her with his open palm, right over the spot he’d grabbed. One. Two. Three.
She made a choked noise, half from surprise and half from the feel of the blows.
“Pain level one to ten,” he asked.
She tried to suck in a breath, get her thoughts back. Her ass was stinging but not in an unbearable way. “Five.”
“Good.” He reached for one of the utensils. “If we get to an eight or nine, you stop me.”
“Okay.”
She tried not to brace for it, knew it would make it worse, but when the spatula came down on her, she was as tense as a fist. The sting didn’t spread over as big a portion as it had with his hand, but it was sharp and wicked. She bit her lip trying not to make noise. She wouldn’t drag Keats into this.
But good intentions were about all she had because when Colby continued to work her ass over with swats, it felt like an avalanche of sound was building up in her throat. Everything was on fire—her ass, the backs of her thighs. The pain was crawling up to a seven and she wasn’t sure she was as tough as she thought.
“Spread your legs wider,” Colby said, calm as a bright blue sky in June. Damn him. How could he be so calm when he was whaling on her?
But she couldn’t stop herself from obeying. She opened her thighs wider, balancing on her toes. The sound of tools banging around in the crock filled her ears, and then he gave her a soft pop right against her sex. Whack.
She made a grinding moan, the sound leaking out between her teeth. Good God. He popped her a few more times against that oh-so-sensitive skin, not hard, but firm enough to take note, and all that pain from before started to turn into a hot tingling burning over her skin. She squirmed, needing more pressure against her clit, but Colby shifted and hit her with what felt like the wooden spoon on the back of her thigh, sharp.
A little cry of pain slipped out.
“No coming yet, gorgeous. I give that to you when I’m ready. You still have three more tools to go.”
Her head was spinning, but she didn’t protest. He worked her over with the wooden spoon and then with some other kind of spatula from what she could tell. But frankly, it was all starting to run together in a haze in her mind now. The pain had left, morphing into something altogether different. Now her only discomfort was from the fact that she wanted to come and couldn’t.
The swats slowed and then stopped. Colby pressed a hand to the small of her back. “Do you want to come?”
“Yes, please.”
“Do you trust me not to harm you?”
“I do.” And she did. In that moment, she totally did.
“Excellent.” He moved his fingers against her, and she almost came from that, but he knew what he was doing and didn’t give her enough stimulation to put her over the edge. Then something foreign was pushing against her. She stiffened. “This is a soft rubber handle, baby. You’re wet enough to take it. Relax.”
Oh, God. The whisk. He was going to fuck her with a damn kitchen implement. “Colby.”
“Shh,” he said, his voice more soothing now than commanding. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
The handle slipped in and she groaned. The handle wasn’t overly large but it was grooved and textured and the feel of it inside her made her heels lift. Jesus.
“That’s my girl,” Colby said, his voice going thick, as he moved the handle in and out slowly. “You’re so goddamned sexy.”
The fact that he was getting so aroused only dialed up her need more. She could only imagine what she looked like to him right now, tipped over his lap in the middle of his kitchen, half naked, and being violated at his bidding. Her fingers pressed against the floor, the coiling tension in her almost at its breaking point.
He rocked her against him with each slide of the handle, rubbing her clit against the rough denim of his jeans. She wasn’t going to make it much longer. Then with his free hand, he began to pinch her. The flesh of her ass, the backs of her thighs, little biting squeezes that reignited the effects of the spanking. Pinch and stroke, pinch and stroke. Rasp, rasp, rasp against his jeans. Her mind began to fuzz.
“Colby,” she pleaded.
“Come for me, Georgia.” He reached around with his free hand and found her clit. “Come for me and let me hear it.”
That was all she needed. She launched into orgasm, her body clamping around the invasion, her hips rocking against his fingers. And despite her best effort, she couldn’t keep herself quiet. She cried out loud and long—a desperate, wanton sound that had to have reverberated around the house.
But in the moment, she didn’t care. Colby wanted to hear it, and she wanted to give that to him.
Right now, she’d give him just about anything.