Page 5

“I am not a brat.”
God, I loved hearing her try to sound so strong. Her words defied me, but the breathy voice gave away how much she wanted it.
“My sweet wife,” I murmured, stroking my thumb gently along the pounding pulse at her wrist. All of it just to lure her into a sense of calm while my other hand snapped out to grip her hip hard. “You’re my brat.”
Then I whirled her around, pinning her hips to the hard counter with mine. I skated my hand up her spine, burying it in the blonde curls I loved to coil between my fist, and shoved her forward. Leaning over her back, I pinned her hand to the counter with a silent order to stay before moving my palm over her small curves to the button on her pants.
While I got to work unfastening them, I bit my way up her neck to her ear. “You say you want to mature past the spoiled princess you were as a teen,” I whispered. “But I think you like being a spoiled little girl, so you can get punished like one.”
She gasped when I roughly jerked her pants over her hips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a little girl.”
I chuckled at her denial. I’d never seen anyone manage a breathy gasp through clenched teeth until I met Olivia. She was everything all wrapped up in one.
She was a rich bitch and a kind soul.
She was need and want.
She was insecure and confident.
She was pleasure and pain.
She was dominance and submission.
And she was mine.
Satisfied with her pants just past her ass, I shifted my attention back up her body, reaching under her, forcing her to curl her back to my front to make room for my hands. Fabric tore, and buttons rattled across the counter to the floor.
“You say that, but your tits barely fill my hands,” I said, stroking across her nipples. She moaned, pressing her ass into my crotch—trying to control the situation. “Nice try, Olivia.”
Her moans turned to gasps when I gripped the hard tips between my fingers and played, switching between rolls and strokes and painful pinches and hard tugs. She whimpered, and I knew she held her pleas for more on the tip of her tongue. I had no doubt that by the time I finished, she wouldn’t be able to hold anything back.
She tried to follow me when I stood upright behind her, but I shoved her back down. Without any warning, I made my first strike, pulling a shocked cry from her full lips. I stroked her pale cheek, loving the shape of my hand blooming red. The first smack always left me high on power, leaving my mark. By the time I finished, my handprint would be a blur of red across both cheeks.
Another smack.
And then another.
And another.
I continued with no rhythm, leaving her unable to brace herself.
“Oh, god. Stop. Please,” she cried.
I ignored her plea, knowing she didn’t actually want me to stop. We had a safe word for that. No, Olivia wanted me to stop torturing her. To prove my point, I slipped my hand between her legs, pushing three fingers roughly inside her soaking pussy.
“Listen to the sloppy mess you’re making between your legs,” I taunted, twisting and pushing to make wet sucking noises she couldn’t deny. “You say you don’t want to be punished, but your tight little cunt says otherwise.”
She rolled her forehead along the counter, pushing back against my hand, whimpering but holding back the words I wanted.
“Your wet pussy tells me how much you like being my little brat. It tells me how much you like being bent over and spanked like a little girl.”
I caught a glimpse of her teeth sunk deep into her bottom lip through the mess of her hair falling around her. She was so close. She couldn’t even verbalize her denial, instead shaking her head.
“Don’t you, baby?” I taunted. Giving her another nudge closer to the edge, I slid my thumb up to her clit, gently brushing back and forth.
“Oh, god. Yes,” she moaned.
The swell of victory built up in my chest, sinking down to my cock, making it even harder. Nothing turned me on more than my strong wife submitting for me. “Yes, you like being punished?”
“Yes. Okay?” she screamed. “Please, Kent. Please.”
“Please, what, baby?”
“Just—” Her words cut off when I applied a little more pressure to her clit.
“More. Fuck me. Spank me. Anything. I just need more. Please,” she begged.
“Good girl,” I crooned, pulling my hand from between her legs and landing hard, quick smacks one right after the other. When the smell of her wet pussy and the red of her ass had me on the brink of coming, I jerked my pants open and pressed my length along the heat of her skin.