Naughty Tonight(9)

“What?” She bounced with a gleeful cry, much like she was enjoying his rough ways already—damn her—and Jackson, control a thin thread, caught the zipper at the back of her skirt and dragged it from her body, over shapely legs.

Her thong followed suit, cast somewhere behind him. “You want this so bad. You’re damn well going to pay for it.”

Before he knew what she was about, Kimmy tucked her knees under her belly, face flat to the mattress as she wagged that sweet round ass, and cooed, “Ohhh…still plan to spank me, Sir?”

“Absolutely. And then some.” More than she bargained for, he guaranteed that, and did she ever deserve it. Dancing like that. Acting like this. Inviting him to spank her as boldly as she demanded sex.

Pushing him off the edge when he’d tiptoed along it so carefully for years. Kimmy knew he didn’t want a serious relationship, had no plans for love in his future.

Damn her for doing this. Now there was no going back.

Spank her? Just for starters!

Suddenly Jackson was overwhelmed with the desire to punish her. With a fierce growl, he tore himself from his mesmerized state above her and returned to his closet, rummaging his spanking shelf for just the right paddle.

One lined with fur. Another smooth plastic one, cool to the touch with holes drilled out. His flogger.

Nope, nope and nope.

And then Jackson’s fingers encountered a narrow handle buried in the back. On a whim he’d had it personalized from some online specialty shop years ago but had never quite been moved enough by any woman to use it.

His Jackson paddle. Two inches wide, his name cut from black leather. When he spanked her, Jackson would be imprinted on her behind.

Jackson, Jackson, Jackson…branded in red all over those sexy, curved pale flanks.

Snagging a set of nipple clamps and his sex clamp because, dammit, he intended to punish her thoroughly—with orgasms—he practically leaped from the closet to the bed, far too eager to deliver the first blow as he crawled on the mattress behind her and let his arm rip, smacking down sharply on creamy-white flesh.

Beneath him, she cried out, reared up, incentive for him to drop those clamps, push her down and slap the paddle down smartly a second time. “Yup. You want this,” he reminded, drinking in the sight of his name—barely readable, but his name all the same—crimson on her behind. “And you’re going to get it.”

Jackson.

Nothing had ever been hotter than the sight of that. Nothing ever sent Jackson over the edge so swiftly, so suddenly. All control was lost.

With his other hand, he dipped into her wet cunt and searched out her entrance, thrusting four fingers far inside her. She bellowed as her body welcomed him easily, and he drove those digits deep. Hard. Fast. “Happy now, Kimmy?” Thrust, thrust. Smack, smack! “This what you wanted? You’ve ruined us.”

When she didn’t answer right away, he snagged the arms bound at her back and hurled her over. Straddling her waist, his blind hands searched out those nipple clamps, finding them quickly.

Taking her left nipple between his fingers, he tweaked and rolled the pebbled bud until he was certain it would harden no further. Then he slid the latexed end of the tweezer clamp over her nipple, drawing the circle at the end to tighten its grasp.

“Oh!” The heat in that coffee-colored gaze inviting more, Kimmy arched her back, already bowed from lying on her cuffed hands.

“Still so sure, Kimmy?” he dared her. “Still want this?”

Testing his boundaries, he tightened the clamp just slightly more and Kimmy sucked in a whistlely gasp, biting her lower lip as she shouted, “Yes!” and he knew he’d hit the spot.

Silently, Jackson applied the same treatment to the second nipple and adored how her whole body went stiff, intense with arousal as he climbed off and rolled her back over, positioning her face to the mattress and her butt in the air, quickly regaining the paddle and thrusting his fingers inside her.

Smack, smack, smack!

Her cries rent the air, but he wasn’t gentle, wouldn’t be, because he had a point to prove. “Kimmy wants this.”

Smack, smack, smack!

She could tell him to stop at any time. He’d welcome nothing more, though his painfully hard cock might turn him blue for it.

Jackson, Jackson, Jackson!

Along her upper thighs. Across those round globes. Fleshy hips. Smack, smack, smack! Red slashed in crisscross patterns and she whimpered and cried out, again and again, rearing against his fucking fingers, scrambling away from his blows.

Punished. Just as she deserved.



“Still happy, Kimmy?” he demanded with the harsh slash of that paddle. His hand plundered, pushing inside, spreading her wide. “Still sure?”