Every time she got pissed at Nick, she got horny for him, and that made no sense to her whatsoever.
“Bend over my desk.”
Tiffany spun around. “What? Why?” Even though it didn’t matter. She wanted whatever it was he had in mind. But the look on his face gave her pause. Maybe not. He looked really pissed.
Maybe he had the same damn reaction to her?
“I’m not sure, yet, Tiffany. I haven’t exactly decided what I want to do to you.” Nick gripped one hand into a fist and cracked his knuckles, but it wasn’t a move born of aggression. He was getting ready to use his hands, on her, and she was okay with that. His face was full of concentration, and the intensity shining from his gray, bottomless eyes bored straight into her insides and dived down into the depths of her pussy.
She was a mess, and he hadn’t even touched her yet.
“O-kay …” Tiffany whispered as she turned and did as he asked. A hiss of expelled air was the only discernable reaction.
“Close your eyes,” Nick demanded, and she obeyed without question. “Do you trust me?” His gravelly voice suddenly had an edge of uncertainty to it, much like the smile he’d displayed earlier. It was odd and threw her a little off balance.
But she answered with a firm “Yes.” Because she did. As mad as he made her, she loved the asshole. She could admit it to herself but no one else. She loved Nick Livingstone.
And she was sure he was about to do something to her no man would ever do again. He would touch her in some way that would pale in comparison to everyone else. Even Conrad.
Shit.
A soft cloth fell over her eyes, and Tiffany reached up to touch it. “Nope, baby girl. Keep your hands on the desk.” Tiffany opened her eyes to see Nick’s bandana—the one he kept in his pocket for a handkerchief—over her eyes like a blindfold.
Scenes from her BDSM books flew through her mind, and then it all made sense—Nick’s need for utter compliance and control, his anger when she didn’t do what he thought she should do for her own good, his protectiveness of her—as misguided as it was—his dominance in the bedroom.
Goose bumps broke out on her back.
“Is this a BDSM thing? Are you a Dominant?” Finally. Something was happening Tiffany sort of understood. Lord knows she had read tons of books about this.
A harsh laugh broke from his chest. “Fuck if I know, Tiff. I told you. You do this to me. Make me want to command your pleasure. And punish you when you don’t behave. Is that a Dom?” His fragmented sentences drew off into a rumble, and as he lowered himself over her back, she felt it radiate through her, vibrating her bones with his warmth.
She wanted to scream inside her head, Yes! But Doms care for their subs and fall in love with them. Even as the words formed in her mind, she knew it wouldn’t happen. He may take care of her, but he didn’t really care. He wasn’t in love with her.
But she managed a nod.
“Do you trust me? You still okay with this?”
Tiffany bit her lip, more to keep from screaming the word at him, and he pressed against her tightly until she answered with a whispered “Yes.”
“Good.”
Nick gripped her hips, tugging her this way and that. Tiffany couldn’t decide if he was straightening her, looking at her from different angles, or what. But when he lifted her skirt and let out that hiss again, she didn’t care; as long as this ended up in sex, she was totally cool with whatever he did. Anger and resolutions be damned.
His finger tickled her backside as it traced her thong, slipping underneath it and tugging on it before letting it go with a snap. Her turn to hiss. That stung.
“You don’t even know how sexy you are, do you?” His voice scared her in the most delicious way. It was still a rumble, bordering on a low roar. Like a fucking bear.
SMACK!
“Ow! Son of a bitch! That hurt!” His hands were rubbing the spot he’d just spanked, the fingers rubbing and digging into the flesh. Eventually, the stinging subsided, and Tiffany had to admit it was the shock of the slap that had scared her. Nothing actually hurt.
“Okay?” Nick’s soft voice soothed her and taunted her at the same time.
“Yes.” Tiffany sounded petulant and knew it as soon as the word left her mouth. For some reason, she wanted to apologize for her tone of voice, and wasn’t that just the shit?
SMACK!
Again with the rubbing and soothing, this time on her other ass cheek.
“What exactly am I being punished for?” The bratty tone was gone, and now she hated the fact she sounded so weak. The question came out like she was begging for something.
“You accepted a date with Matt the Douchebag.”
SMACK!
Another slap on her ass, and instead of rubbing it, he slapped the same spot again before soothing it with his massive hand. Her butt was getting warm, and damn if the wetness in her pussy had actually increased.
“You don’t actually like him, you’re just doing it to make me mad.” Another resounding SMACK!
She pressed back into his hand as he stroked her. “To get back at me for something you still haven’t told me about.”
What the hell? Who knew she liked spankings so much?
SMACK!
Tiffany moaned long and loud that time. She couldn’t stop the sound from coming out of her mouth.
“Seriously?” Nick’s question would have been comical if she wasn’t so turned on. His hands on her stilled and then traced the edge of her thong again before dipping down below, into her drenched folds. “Fuck. Me.”
