The Wrong Wife (Morally Grey Billionaires #5)(13)

If it had been only me, I might have given up. But thanks to Adam, I made it. I respect his decision not to come with me to the club. And that he doesn’t judge me for what I need to fill that emptiness inside me. If I were a better man, I’d accompany him in coaching the boys at the hockey camp, but I’m not like Adam. There's no shred of the man I once was left in me. All I have is this… aching need to feel… Something. Feel some part of the humanity that once resided in me. Feel alive and connected to something—someone, other than the hate that resides in me. It’s what led me to specify the exact kind of experience I was looking for.

In the center of the room is a padded spanking bench, complete with restraints. A door at the opposite end of the room opens, and a woman steps in. The spotlight shining on the bench throws the rest of the room in darkness and prevents me from making out her features. That’s what I asked for. I need a faceless body. Warm flesh on which I can slake my thirst, without seeing the face. This way, I don’t need to have a conversation, or pretend an empathy I don’t feel. This way, I can get rid of the pressure building deep inside me and move on.

The woman takes a few steps toward me, and I call out, "Stop."

She pauses.

"Now turn around."

She hesitates for a second, another, then slowly turns around to face the door she came through. That will not do at all. She needs to be taught to obey my rules without reserve. Assuming she lasts through today’s session.

I glance around, then spy the remote control that manages the lights in the room. It’s on a table by the only other piece of furniture, a couch facing the bench. I head for it, then manipulate the device so the spotlights train on her instead. Tossing the device back on the table, I prowl toward where she stands with her back to me.

When I’m within arm’s length behind her, I stop. She hears me approach, for she stiffens. I take in her slim shoulders, the straightness of her spine, the tiny waist, the flare of her butt, all clad in a white dress that clings to every dip and hollow in her body and comes to mid-thigh. She’s wearing over-the-knee boots with four-inch heels that squeeze around her fleshy thighs. Creamy skin, perfect to be marked.

My fingers tingle, and my scalp tightens. A pulse flares to life at my temples, and I raise my gaze to where her blonde hair is piled up in a messy bun. She’s short enough that she comes to the line of my heart. Perfectly tiny. Perfectly curvy. Perfect to be broken by me. Before I can stop myself, I reach down and pull out the single clip that holds up her hair. She gasps. Strands of white-gold hair pour down her back. The color is lustrous, pure, shining pale in the dim light that bathes her. A tremor grips her. Her fear leaches out into the air, laced with something sweet and complex… The scent of her arousal. I’m instantly hard—what the—! That’s only my second hard-on since I returned. The first was when I saw her.

I rub my chin, then grip her shoulder. Electricity zips down my arm, straight to my balls. She must sense it, too, for a whimper escapes her. My cock stabs into my pants, and fuck, if I don’t come right then. I bend my head and sniff the air next to her neck. Roses. Definitely roses, tinged with something sugary-sweet. The unmistakable scent of her arousal goes straight to my head. I curl my lips, then straighten and thrust my foot between her legs. A small cry escapes her, then she slides her legs apart. I release her, and she trembles again. The air between us vibrates with her uncertainty, her heightened emotions, her anticipation about what is to come. How far can I push you, little Dove, hmm?

"Bend over and grab your ankles," I order.

This time, she instantly complies. In this position, her heart-shaped butt juts out in the air. Her silver-colored thong rides up the valley between her butt cheeks and nestles between her pussy lips. Moisture glistens on her inner thigh, and my mouth waters. My thigh muscles harden, sweat beads my forehead, a-n-d why am I having such a primitive response to this woman? I thrust my hand between her legs and cup her pussy. Her knees seem to give way, and were it not for my grip on the most intimate part of her, she’d fall.

With my free hand, I grasp her hip to hold her in place, then I slide my finger under her thong and inside her slit.

"Ohgodohgodohgod," she gasps.

"You like that, hmm?"

She nods, then pushes out her butt so my finger slides deeper inside her hot, tight, wet cunt.

"Are you hungry for what I’m going to do to you, my little Dove?"

A low, keening whine emerges from her lips. I pull out my finger and suck on it. The popping sound as it leaves my lips sends another shiver racing up her spine. That’s when I tear off her panties.

She cries out.

I stuff the piece of silk into my pocket. Then, holding her hip, I step back to the side, widen my stance to brace myself, and bring my hand down on her arse. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes around the room, and she yells. "What the—" She tries to pull away, but I hold her in place.

"Did you like that, little Dove?"

"No, you jerk hole, you bastard, you, ahhhh—" She bites off whatever else she’s going to say as my palm connects with her butt, this time, on the other cheek.

"It hurts, you maniac, what are you doing?"

In answer, I spank her arse cheeks again. She moans. I step back and survey the prints I’ve left on those fleshy globes. My dick thickens even further. A bead of sweat runs down my spine. I massage the reddened skin, and she whimpers. A fat bead of cum trickles down her inner thigh. I scoop it up and bring it to my lips. The taste of strawberries fills my palate. Interesting.