When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine 2)

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she grated out, hoping he heard the anger in her voice and not the other bewildering feelings brewing in her chest.

He spanked her again. She bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. He knew what he was doing. His slaps were quick and brisk, meant to sting, not bruise or harm. He smacked her on the lower curve of her right buttock twice. A cry flew out of her throat. She shifted her hips instinctively, trying to avoid another swat on her prickling flesh. He bracketed her hips with his hands and kept her steady.

“Hold still, or you’ll earn more,” she heard him say, his voice thicker than before. Was he getting turned on? Arousal pinched at her clit for some reason. She crunched her eyelids closed in rising bewilderment. He rubbed the patch of flesh on her bottom as if in apology for making her nerves sizzle. Her ass felt hot beneath his big hand.

He smacked her again. She gasped. Distantly, she realized he’d turned on the stereo to muffle the sound of her spankings. His office was already remotely situated in the restaurant, the door was thick, and the luxurious furnishings and paintings likely muffled interior sounds.

Did he punish women in his office often?

The disconcerting thought fractured when he landed another spank. She was horrified when a tear burst from her clenched eyelids.

“Mario was right. You are a devil, Lucien Sauvage,” she accused, shifting her bottom. He popped the moving target with increased force.

“If you don’t keep your ass still, you will discover what a devil I can be.”

She bit her lower lip as she forced herself to still. He smacked her again. Her ass was on fire, and her pussy was growing wet. The nerves on her behind stung, but it was nothing compared to the pleasurable tingling of her clit. At the same time, she was truly humiliated by the fact that she was allowing Lucien to spank her bare-assed.

Yet . . . she wanted it. Needed it.

“Just get it over with, please. I can’t take much more,” she said brokenly when he paused to soothe her burning flesh with caressing fingertips.

“You will take what I give you.” He raised his hand again. The music swelled in her ears.

Smack, smack.

It was as if he were pushing something out of her with his punishment, building friction, trying to create a fire of feeling in her flesh. It was too much. Emotion exploded out of her. She shuddered uncontrollably.

Suddenly he was lifting her by the shoulders and she was in his arms. She pressed her hot, wet cheek against his silk tie and shook with feeling.

“I hate you. I hate you,” she muttered, not even sure what she was saying in her tumult.

“No you don’t,” he said quietly, his fingers moving gently in her hair, soothing her. “We are alike, you and I. Both alone. Both misfits. I struggled to escape the golden cage, too, ma chère. I’m trying to help you, if you’ll only listen.”

“Lucien,” she whispered, so much feeling infused into that one word, so much longing. She rubbed her cheek against his tie, drying unwanted tears. His clean, spicy, citrusy scent permeated her misery. So did the sensation of his hard body.

He was clearly, awesomely aroused.

She stilled at the realization, her misery fading. The inexplicable ache at her core amplified.

What would happen now?

His long fingers skimmed against her skin and he lifted her chin. She stared up at him, defiant even in her utter confusion. “I’m going to give you what you need.”

“I don’t understand you,” she whispered.

“Such a beautiful, wild thing, such a pure, strong flame,” he murmured, his gaze traveling over her face as he caressed the line of her jaw. “But you will burn yourself to ashes if left unchecked. You’ve been grasping for an outer limit to your world for years now, something to contain you. Now you’ve run into it. And I’m not turning away this time,” he said simply, skimming her cheek with his fingertips.

She stared up at him mutely. He leaned down and kissed her lips, his mouth so tender and so cherishing that she felt as if she were dreaming.

“Now bend back over the desk so that we can finish.”

She arched against him. She’d rather just skip the spanking, hot as it was making her, and possess what she’d desired for half her life. Who knew that she’d respond so strongly to a bit of kink? She wasn’t the only one responding. What she felt of Lucien—his size and hardness—made her fevered. She’d love to stroke and suck the awesome cock she felt pressing against his trousers.

“Do as I say,” he said, avoiding the come hither gyration of her hips, his gray eyes flashing, his tone hard. “Don’t try and grab control of this, Elise. Don’t test me. You’ll lose.”

She gasped at the realization that he understood precisely what she’d been doing with her seduction. She let him turn her in his arms, despite her sharp disappointment. He pressed gently at her lower back, prompting her to bend over. His hand moved up her spine, massaging, molding, working the muscles.

“So much tension in your muscles . . . so much pain,” he said quietly. He didn’t seem to be expecting a response, which was fine with her. She was too overwhelmed by his touch to speak. His hand brushed against her prickling, hot ass. Her clit pinched in arousal, the sharpness of her response shocking her. The anticipation was killing her.

“But why? Why are you doing this?” burst out of her throat, her voice going high in panic.

“Because I care,” he said. Her eyes sprang wide when he pressed his hand to her buttocks. Then it was gone, and she knew he was drawing his hand back in preparation to strike. Her sex clenched tight in anxious excitement. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t, Elise. And you wouldn’t be letting me if you didn’t know that.”