Chapter 12

Punish me?

A trickle of wetness runs down my thighs, and I'm not sure if it's sweat or my body's excitement at the idea of my bare ass exposed to Liam. I'd give anything to know what he's thinking right now.

His warm fingers move down my body, and I tremble. I bend further over the counter until my nose touches the cool hardness because my legs won't support me. Without the kitchen counter, I wouldn't be able to stand.

"H-how do you think I deserve to be p-punished?" I stammer, my top lip suddenly stiff, and my bottom lip trembling with the rest of my body.

He doesn't answer. I'm frozen and don't move my head to look back, but my ears still work. The sound of his belt buckle coming undone and the leather sliding through the belt loops on his jeans makes my legs buckle, and I sigh.

Is he going to fuck me? Dear Christ, please let him fuck me. Please.

I arch my back and present my ass to him, widening my stance so he can get to any hole he wants to touch. My eyes flit to my countertop in the hopes that if he chooses my ass, he'll at least look for the coconut oil first.

Before I can think further, he bunches his belt in his hand and sets it on the counter two inches from my face. I open my left eye only to see his masculine hand splayed on the counter by my cheek, belt in hand, and his biceps tremble as he leans over me. His erection rests against my butt crack, and he moves his lips to my ear. "I think you know what I'm going to do to punish you. I just thought you'd like to see the belt I'm going to punish you with."

Fuck me. I've never been spanked before, but I read about it in books. I've always wanted to try it in the confines of a nice relationship, the kind of relationship where everything is equal out of the bedroom but there's nothing but dirty, disrespectful sex in the bedroom.

Or kitchen, as it seems.

"Lick it," he orders next to my cheek.

"What? Your dick?"

He chuckles into my skin, and his breath hits my earlobe. "No, Lorelei. Lick the belt before I spank you with it."

Bitch, do not ask me to show off if you don't want me to show off. "Officer Lane, are you threatening me with a good time?"

"Lick the belt," he whispers, grinding his dick into my ass and pressing his cock between my butt cheeks.

Time to show my ass figuratively, even if I'm already doing it literally.

I turn my head as much as I can while keeping my ear to the granite. His damn brown eyes meet mine, and I hold eye contact. As much as I want to look away, I won't give him that power.

He gasps as he breathes, and I can tell he's keeping his shoulders as still as he can, not wanting to show me that he's literally panting over my helpless body.

Tentatively, I stick out my tongue and drag it the length of his belt. I take one swipe up the leather, swipe back down like it's a damn lollipop, and go back up before spitting on his belt buckle to either show disrespect…or that I'm a dirty whore. I'll leave that for him to interpret.

His eyes darken above me, and his thighs tremble against the backs of mine. "Lorelei," he whispers without moving his slightly parted lips.

Because I'm trouble on wheels and want to give him hell, I drag my tongue over the leather one more time, flicking my tongue over each hole as I pass them, and move my tongue to the webbing between his index finger and thumb.

My eyes flutter when I taste his skin. His hand is a salty shock to my taste buds after the cold, tasteless leather of his belt.

He straightens as I close my eyes, and he takes the belt with him. He mutters something that sounds like "trouble and filthy to boot," but I can't be sure.

My fingers flex against the countertop, bracing myself for what's coming, and I don't wait long.

The leather practically whistles through the air, so I hear the belt a millisecond before it strikes. The leather comes down so hard that I buck into the handle of the cabinet below me, and the metal digs into my leg. He doesn't give me time to adjust, or maybe he just doesn't notice. Something tells me he'd move me if he thought I was getting hurt in another way other than what he's inflicting.

The belt whistles through the air again. This time, I take in the cracking sound of it hitting my buttocks as searing pain shoots through my entire lower body.

Oh, but what pain it is. Exquisite. Sexual.

I want more, and I spread my legs against my better judgment. A growl comes from his chest as he grips my bun harder and pulls up so I can't rest my head on the counter. I close my eyes and savor the pain at my scalp – just enough to feel dominated – and the burning pain of my ass that's going to be a bitch tomorrow.

I can't get enough today, though.

"Had enough, Lorelei?" he whispers. His voice is strange, and I wonder if he's worried he really hurt me.

"You hit like a little bitch, Liam," I chuckle. "I thought you said you wanted to punish me."

He hits me harder, and a few dribbles of urine leak out of me from the pressure. This time, he notices what's going on at my front as the urine dribbles into my shorts at my ankles.

I ignore it, though. This is the most erotic moment of my life, and my clit is on fire, begging to be touched. I'll be damned if I let a little urine that squeezed out ruin my night with him.

He throws his belt on the counter and sighs as he runs those warm, soft hands over my ass, rubbing the pain or redness away. Disappointment pushes my shoulders into a slouch, and I whimper as I look at the belt on my counter.

He pushes me forward again and brings his hand to my ass this time, eliciting a giggle from me.

He pauses, and the room goes silent. "Are you kidding me right now? How hard do I have to spank you to be considered punishment?"

I bite my lip and look around at him again. Sweat dots his forehead, and he doesn't even try to hide his panting. "Maybe Daddy should have me go out back and pick out my own switch?"

His face reddens, and his eyes widen while I laugh like the devil and turn around to face my kitchen tile. "I was hoping I'd see some real action from you tonight, Officer Lane."

He pushes on the back of my neck and holds me down to the granite. I push against him, trying to rise, but it's futile. His hand is like a vice at the back of my neck, and I knew those sexy hands would be strong. "Touch yourself, Lorelei," he whispers. "I know you want to, and I want to watch you touch yourself."

I bring my right hand to my clit without having to be asked a second time. At the same time, I hear Liam unzip his pants. "Yes," I moan under him.

"Are you moaning because you're that good with your fingers, or are you moaning because you think I'm going to do something for you?"

"Both are fun ideas," I taunt.

"I've never met such a disturbed, filthy, foul-mouthed creature, Ms. Rogers."

"And I've never met a man that pretended so hard that he wasn't into it."

Silence hangs between us for a few moments until the sound of his pants moving to his knees startles me. He keeps the hand at the back of my neck as I furiously run my fingers in the clockwise pattern I know my body likes. He breathes hard and utters words like beautiful, infernal, and the devil herself as he does something behind me.

It takes a moment to realize that he's pleasuring himself as I'm pleasuring myself. "Are you going to just jerk off when you can have the real thing, Lane?"

"What makes you think I want to give you the satisfaction of fucking you?"

"Oh, I think you do want the satisfaction. I think you want to slide into my wet pussy and have your way with it. Just once."

"No."

"Come on, Liam. Is this where I beg you to just put the tip in?"

"Beg all you want. You aren't getting fucked tonight. If you want to come, you'll do it yourself."

If he was running his hand along his dick quietly before, he speeds up so I can hear every jerk of his cock now. The sound makes me laugh. "You know I can run my tongue up your dick like I did to that belt if you let me turn around."

I turn to look at him as much as I can with his hand still holding me down at the back of my neck. His mouth opens in a silent moan, and he pushes his cock into my butt crack. He bites his lip, whimpers, and then squares his shoulders like he's doing everything he can to hold his ever-loving shit together.

"Maybe just the tip on you won't hurt," he mutters.

He pushes himself slightly between my butt cheeks so I feel his cock on my puckered asshole. I've never done anal before. I was totally kidding to myself that I'd be fine with whatever hole he chose, and I grip the counter again, frantically grabbing my dish sponge and squeezing it like it's my best friend's hand.

He doesn't push in, though. He leaves the head of his cock pushed up against my asshole, but he doesn't enter me. I breathe out a sigh of relief and focus on my fingers as they expertly move over my clit. I take in every sigh he makes as he jerks himself off up against my asshole, and the sounds push me over the edge. I'd give anything to make him outright moan, to hear him call my name, but he seems hell bent to not give me that power.

I'll take my own power.

Pleasure moves from my clit to my core and out to my arms and legs. I drop the sponge, go limp under his hand, and he pushes me further against the counter to keep me from falling.

I won't call his name as I come. I refuse. This is a man that fucks with my business and thinks I'm an awful person. I may want to hear him moan for me, but I won't give him the satisfaction of moaning for him.

My orgasm comes in waves, and I tremble and whine below him, bucking my hips into the same cabinet handle that I was trying to avoid.

As soon as I'm finished, the hand pumping his cock moves faster, and pressure increases against my ass. He widens his strong legs and fucks his hand harder against me. He grits his teeth so hard they may crack, and his eyes squeeze shut. His thighs tremble one last time against mine as warm liquid covers my asshole and fills my crack.

Normally, I'd be disgusted, but that was the hottest way I've ever had a guy come for me.

As soon as every drop is out of him and dripping onto my shorts and kitchen floor, he moves back from me, pulling his pants up so I can't even see if the half inch taunting is earned.

He backs away from me, turns, takes a drink from his coffee, and walks out of the room, running a hand through his hair as he goes.

As soon as he's out the door, I pull up my shorts from around my ankles, take a sip from my now-cold coffee, and burst into tears. I don't cry because I was just spanked or treated like an easy jerkoff toy. I cry because I liked it and want him to stay. I want him to pull me into that broad, warm chest and wrap his arms around me.