Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“It was at the club.”
The club. I’m intrigued. I sprawl back on my bed, letting my fingers wander between my legs.
“What happened?”
“It was years ago—I was pretty young. One of the cocktail waitresses was caught stealing from the register. Sammy hauled her into my office.”
I listen, breath quickened, thighs squeezing together over my hand.
“Sammy asks me what we ought to do with her. You don’t steal from the LaTorre’s, you know? So firing her didn’t seem like enough. We had to send a message.”
“But we both were sort of stymied. If she were a guy, Sammy would’ve broken a few fingers without even asking me what I thought. But she was a girl, and you don’t do that.”
“‘Should I bust the windows in her car?’ Sammy asks. That didn’t seem like such a great idea, considering she was probably stealing because she needed the money, and it would just make her more desperate. She wasn’t a bad employee, you know. But we couldn’t let it go unpunished. So then I had this idea. ‘We’ll give you a choice. You can bend over my desk and take your punishment,’ I told her. ‘Or we’ll turn you over to the cops.’
“She was already crying because she thought Sammy was going to rip her fingernails off, so she was happy to just get a spanking. Sammy takes off his belt. I give him a nod, and he starts spanking her. He’s not very good at it. Not that I’d ever had any practice, but even sitting behind the desk, I can tell he’s just hitting the same side over and over again and ignoring the other cheek.”
I hold the phone away from my face, so he can’t hear my breath, which has turned to panting as I near orgasm. My fingers work my clit, rubbing and undulating as I imagine the scene.
“So I’m coaching him—‘hit both sides, no, now the other side.’ I have this sense it should go slower—I don’t know why—to give her time to really feel her predicament, I guess. So I tell him to slow down. I watch her face. Sammy is giving me looks, waiting for me to say enough. I hold up my finger. There’s a point when someone breaks. Same as beating a guy on the street, just different because it’s a female, and they cry sooner. You wait till they stop looking stubborn, till they stop holding back. You wait until—” he breaks off, and I try to swallow my gasps.
“Did you just come?”
“Yeah,” I admit, out of breath. I give a short bark of laughter. “Is that weird?”
“No.” His voice is rough. “I just wish I were with you.”
I pull my hand out of my panties and pinch my own nipples through my T-shirt. “You could come over...”
“Be right there.”
Jesus. Something is seriously wrong with me. I should not be getting off hearing about some cocktail waitress’s punishment. Except it was seriously hot.
Bad boys can be exciting...don’t you think?
He was right. That was definitely part of the appeal with him. He isn’t the safe guy. The one I could bring home to my mother if she still lived here. He’s the bad boy.
He breaks the rules. Breaks the law. Gets a little rough.
I imagine Joey letting me watch him spank one of the cocktail waitresses or being one of the employees getting spanked by Sammy with Joey watching.
By the time Joey arrives, I’m two strokes away from another orgasm. He strides into the room, looking every inch the badass he is. “I thought I told you to keep that front door locked,” he growls.
I sit up in the bed, alert to the possibility he’s serious. “Sorry?”
A twitch of his lip gives him away. “Do you need me to help you remember?”
“No, sir.”
He smiles a slow, dangerous smile. “Come here, beautiful.” He crooks a finger. “I’m going to teach you a lesson.”
I crawl off the bed and approach, trying to figure out how I can call the whole thing off. As if there’s an audience I don’t want to hear, I whisper, “I didn’t really want, I mean—”
He snakes an arm around my waist and pulls my body up against his, smirking down at me and lifting his brows. “You didn’t want a spanking?”
I give a tiny shake of my head. “No?”
“I think you do.” He brushes his lips over my temple. “I think you want the spanking, but you’re just a little scared. Maybe a little embarrassed.” He nips at my neck. “Am I right?”
Joey
Sophie’s nipples poke through the thin cotton of her worn t-shirt, which is the only thing she’s wearing besides a pair of see-thru black lace panties. She lifts her pale green gaze and gives a tiny nod. I feel a surge of protectiveness at her vulnerability. Giving her my warmest smile, I promise, “You can trust me, Soph.”