Badlands: The Lion’s Den(13)

When his fingers went to the hem of her skirt, she found she was trembling, and as he slipped his fingers underneath to softly stroke the skin of her thigh, his eyes intent on hers, she realized she was holding her breath without even being aware of it.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, tugged her forward, and tumbled her effortlessly over his lap, her plump ass in the air. She couldn’t help the squeak of outrage that escaped her. There was a low murmur of approval from the watching crowd.

And then, almost before she’d had time to catch her breath, he whipped up her skirt and yanked down her panties, exposing her bare butt to the air – and to dozens of pairs of hungry, lecherous eyes. The friction of the sensible cotton against the tender flesh of her thighs set her skin tingling and she felt her core clench in erotic expectation.

She could feel the hard ridge of his erection against her belly as she lay over his lap, excruciatingly aware of the audience and wondering what it would feel like when his big, calloused hand came down on the sensitive softness of her ass. Her heart raced and her breathing was harsh and a little panicky in her ears. The sound of the music and the murmurs of the crowd seemed to fade out and recede into the distance.

When he touched the smooth curve of her buttock, it was so gently that it came as a shock in contrast to the blow she had been expecting. She shivered and took a deep, shuddering breath as his warm palm traveled over the plump curve of her butt. Her core clenched and she felt a trickle of moisture dampening her panties.

She squirmed wantonly on his lap, feeling a spark of smugness when he hissed at the friction against his rigid cock, and wished he’d trail his fingers lower to the needy throbbing of her pussy. He must be able to smell her arousal, a faint, distinctive musk on the air.

The blow to her backside was sudden, commanding and firm. She yelped as a stinging sensation spread out from the point of impact, making her skin sing. Shivers of sensation traveled over her entire body and she found herself biting her lip to keep back a moan of arousal.

Finn rubbed the sore spot with his hand, warm and soothing, then pulled back for another sharp smack. This time she did moan – a low, throaty sound that had her blushing furiously at the lustful sound of her voice. Soft laughter rippled through the crowd, but it sounded approving rather than mocking. She wondered if the cheeks of her ass were as rosy as her face.

He slapped her again, his palm cupped, the sting sending waves of arousal shuddering through her body. Heat pooled in her belly and she realized with shock that she was on the brink of orgasm, her channel clenching greedily with each touch of his fingers as he played them over the sore spot in featherlight patterns. Slick, sticky juices trickled down her inner thighs, and she wondered if their audience could see them glistening in the stage lights as she wriggled in Finn’s lap.

Finn spanked her again, and again. Sensation coiled within her, winding tighter with each breath she took then unspooling in a silvery wash that she felt in every cell of her body.

Her breathing was hectic and out of control and she was oblivious to the crowd – oblivious to everything but the anticipation as Finn raised his hand for the final strike.

As his palm hit her ass with a sharp, echoing crack, blissful shocks of sensation thrummed through her, her orgasm as explosive and unexpected as anything she’d ever felt. And as Finn bent to run the flat of his tongue over the sore skin of her buttock, the aftershocks rolled on and on.





Chapter Seven




Finn leaned against the bar, his heart hammering in his chest. Sweat plastered his hair to his skull, and he was bathed in delicious heat. Should he take Flora upstairs right now and finish what they’d started? Would it be fair to her? She barely knew him, and she hadn’t exactly volunteered to be his mate – he’d just jumped in and claimed her.

Why not? She wants it as much as I do.

He couldn’t tell if that was his brain thinking, or some other portion of his anatomy.

He grabbed a napkin and mopped the sweat from his forehead while Jennifer silently held out the two beers he’d just ordered. When he reached across the bar to take them from her, she held on to them and looked him in the eye.

“Interesting timing on claiming your mate,” she said, her voice monotone. “What with the anniversary coming up and all. Three years ago next month.” She raised an eyebrow. “Or did it slip your mind?”

“No, it did not slip my mind,” Finn said, a surge of anger flaring up in him at the insulting suggestion. He forced himself to tamp it down. This was Jennifer speaking.

“Well, I guess now you’ll be able to put it all in the past.” Her eyes were swimming now, although she didn’t shed a tear. “Forget Marybeth ever existed.”