I Married a Master(57)
Author: Melanie Marchande

We were pretty fucking far from that possibility. He’d half-stolen my breath by now, and I was sure he could hear it. He spanked me three more times in quick succession, and I heard his harsh exhale that I hoped meant he was feeling something too.

"Do you think you deserve a good girl spanking?" he asked me, his voice a half-whisper that went through to my core. I shuddered.

"No," I muttered, fingers squeaking against the wood as I tried to brace myself for the next hit. "I’ve been disrespectful."

Smack.

"But didn’t you used to think I deserved to be sassed?" His hand lingered this time, resting on my throbbing ass. I purred.

"You did," I whispered. "But I hardly gave you a chance to make it right. I was unfair."

I squirmed, and he hit me again. This time, my throaty moan was completely unmistakable.

I was undone.

Hearing him breathing behind me, feeling the heat of the connection between his skin and mine, separated only by my skirt, I tried to imagine what he looked like. Were his eyes dark with anticipation? Did he lick his lips?

"I’m not sure this is a good enough punishment," he said, punctuating with another smack. "What do you think?"

All I could do was pant, trying to gather my thoughts enough to give some kind of coherent answer.

"Is it supposed to feel like this?" I whispered, finally.

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "How does it feel?"

With a slight movement, he bumped up against my hip, and I felt a heady rush at the urgency of his arousal, searing against me.

His fingers traced a path up the back of my neck, the blunt ends of his fingernails scraping gently along my scalp, before he grabbed a handful of my hair and tugged sharply. He let it go slack a moment later, but my skin still throbbed. The sensation jolted through me like a lightning strike, and I melted even more.

I was a mess.

"Is that too much, sunshine?"

I shook my head, tears springing to the corners of my eyes at the sudden tug on my hair. He wasn’t letting go. And I didn’t want him to.

My legs shook underneath me, and I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hold myself up much longer. Whimpering, I pressed my cheek harder into the table, like that could somehow transport me out of this moment of torturous anticipation.

Suddenly, he pulled back and spanked me again. This time, all pretense was dropped.

"Mr. Chase," I moaned, feeling my ears start to burn a moment later.

He laughed, his hand lingering tantalizingly on the base of my ass – where he’d just have to slide his fingers a little bit lower to touch me where I needed him. He smacked me again, lightly this time. I managed to repress my reactions to a slight shudder. His body was suddenly very close to mine, bending over me, caging me in. His hot breaths gusted past my ear, and I felt goosebumps rise all over my skin. His hardness was so close to my aching core that I wanted to scream.

I moaned helplessly, squirming beneath him, more aroused than I’d ever thought possible.

"I wish I could touch you." The sound of his voice vibrated through my back. "Find out if you’re as turned on as I am. You have no idea how much." He exhaled. "But I can’t. That’s a damn shame, isn’t it?"

I just whimpered.

"Of course, I have my suspicions." With a subtle movement, he ground himself against me. I tried to choke back another moan, with little success. "But I can’t really know, can I? Not without some funny business."

Slowly, he stood up, backing away just far enough to slide his fingers under the hem of my skirt. Pushing it up, inch by inch. "Just stop me if I go too far, sunshine. Okay?"

I nodded.

"Okay?" he repeated. His fingers were still, burning into my skin.

My voice was barely recognizable. "Yes, Sir."

This time, he didn’t stop until my skirt was bunched all the way up around my waist. I felt him kneel down, slowly, until he was eye level with the one place on my body that craved him the most.

"You ever have a man beg to taste you?" he murmured. "Because I gotta say, I am damn close."

I almost cried out in frustration.

"But I wouldn’t, of course," Ben went on. "That wouldn’t be very dominant of me."

He stood up, suddenly. I felt the heat of his body retreating, and my heart dropped into my stomach.

"No!" I shouted, standing up so quickly I almost lost my balance. My legs felt like jelly, and everything between my legs was puffy and over-sensitized and my nerves were frayed down as far as they would go. I turned to face him, my skirt still rolled up, my hands balled into fists. "That’s not fair!"

"Not fair?" His eyes glinted. "Oh, sunshine, who ever told you this was going to be fair?"

With a sudden movement he captured both of my wrists in his hands, holding them immobile in front of me. I struggled halfheartedly, but I was no match for his strength.

"You’re torturing me," I whispered. "Why would you do that?"

"Torturing?" He raised an eyebrow. "What torturing? You’ve been telling me for months that you don’t want this. That you think it’s weird. That I’m basically a caveman for enjoying it. Now, suddenly, you want it all? You want to throw yourself in over your head and fucking drown in it? Doesn’t work that way. You’ve been teasing me for so long. Flirting with me, knowing what kind of man I am. Knowing that I want to put you in your place. Well, this is it. This is what you wanted." He was breathing hard, staring me down. "I’m in control now, sunshine. Now, do you wish you’d never rubbed your tits on my chest?"

I glared at him. It was impossible to tell how much of this was supposed to be a game, but I didn’t want to play anymore.

"You’re in control?" I repeated, hating how much my voice shook.

He didn’t answer.

"Let me go," I said, quietly.

He did. Without hesitation, he released my arms, stepping back, some of the wildness leaving his eyes. He worked his mouth open and shut a few times like he meant to speak, but I didn’t give him a chance. On legs that felt like they might give out at any moment, I walked towards the foyer, grabbed my purse off the coat hook, and made it to the door before he spoke.

"Jenna, wait."

I stopped.

"Please," he said.

I turned around, slowly.

His face was twisted with regret. "Shit, Jenna, I’m sorry. I don’t…I don’t do this. Like, ever." He raked his hand through his hair. "There’s always negotiations beforehand. Fucking contracts, for Christ’s sake. I’m not good at spontaneous. I thought…" He let out a long breath. "I thought that’s how you wanted me to be."