narrowed his eyes, adopting the air of a domineering businessman. “I thought I told you that I wanted the entire house finished by the time I got back. I’m not paying you to dance around the kitchen.”
Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths, and Grant waited, on fucking pins and needles to see if she’d play along.
The only sound was the refrigerator kicking on, and he was about to laugh, and tell her he was joking, when her voice, small but gaining power, said, “But, sir, you’re home early.”
That sir went right to his cock.
He took a step toward her, smiling when she backed up into the counter behind her. “I’m only a half an hour early, and you have a lot more than half an hour of work to do. What’s your excuse?”
Her lips parted. “I—”
He stepped into her space, plucking her iPod from the waistband of her pants, setting it on the counter along with her earbuds. Her eyes fluttered closed.
“Yes, Sara?” he questioned, hands on either side of her, pinning her in. The name he made up was close enough to Sari that he figured he’d remember it.
She opened her eyes, and he stared into the swirling green pool of her irises. She was in the role now; he could feel it. “I’m sorry but I took a nap in your bed.”
Jesus, his cock twitched and he shifted, so the front of his jeans brushed her thigh. “You napped in my bed?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “I know, I w-was bad.”
God, he was going to come in his pants. He ran a hand along the outside of her thigh, teasing the skin under the hem of her shorts. “Is that all you did? Sleep?”
She shook her head.
“No? What did you do in my bed?”
“I-I touched myself.”
Her whisper was a lick across his balls. With a grip on her biceps, he spun her around, so she faced the counter. She gripped it with a cry, but didn’t struggle. Instead, she threw her head back and pushed out her ass.
He took the invitation for what it was. He lowered her shorts along with her panties, hooking the fabric under the cheeks of her ass.
He smoothed a hand over it, and reveled in the small moan she made in the back of her throat. “You know I need to punish you, right?”
She nodded, her hair bobbing.
“I’ll go easy on you if you’re truthful with me.”
“Okay, sir.”
He squeezed one cheek, then let it go, watching as the blood rushed back to the white areas made by his fingers. “What did you think about when you touched yourself?”
The hesitation was for effect, he knew it. What a little actress she was. She looked at him over her shoulder, smiling coyly and blinking under her lashes. “You, sir. I thought about you and your huge cock.”
The first smack was harder than he intended, because fuck, she brought him to the edge. That voice, that look, that ass that reared back into his palm, begging to be slapped. “So bad, Princess,” he murmured into her ear, rubbing the area he’d marked, needing to get control. “You’re so bad.”
“So bad,” she echoed, rolling her hips, grinding against the counter. “I need to be punished, sir.”
He smacked her again, opposite cheek, then began to alternate as he gained a steady rhythm. He was about to burst in his jeans, his cock straining against the zipper but at least he’d been able to gain control of his arm. He wanted to mark her, just a little bit, but not bruise.
Her skin was hot, red, and tight under his palm and goddamn, what he wouldn’t have done at that moment to feel that hot ass against his skin as he gripped her hips and thrust into her. But next time he fucked her—and Grant vowed, there would be a goddamn next time—they were doing it face to face. Because he wanted those large tits bouncing in his face, her nipples brushing his lips.
But now, she needed him, his princess. She was right on the edge, he could tell by the way her breath came in pants, the way her arms trembled where she gripped the counter. He slid his hand down the seam of her ass, until he reached the slick walls of her pussy. He immediately plunged his fingers inside of her, feeling her contract around them. She cried out and ground against him.
He gripped her chin, rearing her head back and smashed his forehead