“Better behave, bad girl,” he warned, mock severity in his low tone. Or maybe not so “mock.”

“You know me better,” she argued, squirming harder. But he only grabbed a handful of her long hair and wrapped it around his fist.

Oh yes, exactly what I need.

She kept wriggling, and the more she struggled the tighter he held on to her, her body going soft and hot all over in his commanding grip.

“I know you’ll love it when I spank you,” he said, lowering his tone. So damn sexy she could hardly stand it. “You’ll love every single strike on your fine, fine ass. Every smooth stroke of my hand in between smacks as I run my palm over your burning skin. And in minutes you’ll be moaning. Wanting more. Oh, I know you, sugar, better than I ever have before. I know what you want. What that hot little body of yours needs. And no one can give it to you like I can.”

“Fuck, Jamie,” she murmured. Every single thing he’d said was true.

He chuckled quietly. The first smack came and she let out a soft groan. Then another hard smack, and another, and soon she was squirming with pain and the most exquisite pleasure—it flooded her system, making her wet instantly. She laid her cheek against the headrest behind Jamie’s head and gave herself over to the spanking. To pleasure. To the heat of his body so close to hers, the burning pain of his hand as he spanked and caressed.

When his hand slipped between her thighs, she gasped.

“Mmm, baby, you are so hot. So wet. Fuck.”

“Yes, please,” she begged. “Please, Jamie.”

Somehow he unbuckled his seat belt—damn, he was good at that!—and slid out of the car with her in his arms. It was still raining, small drops spattering them as she wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her across the street. In moments he had the front door unlocked, then he carried her up the narrow stairs, through his living room and into the bedroom.

Jamie’s bedroom. She had a quick moment to take it in, illuminated by the pale hall light: the sleekly modern four-poster bed in a dark wood, the red blanket folded back to reveal the bed neatly made with sheets in a gray and white geometric pattern. The enormous mirror framed in dark wood leaning against a wall next to the bed—it must have been almost as tall as he was and maybe four feet wide. Which meant that from the bed you could see everything.

Oh, nice.

He set her down on the bed and moved her up toward the pillows, handling her roughly.

“Don’t be careful with me, Jamie,” she said, even though she knew he wouldn’t be. Never any more than he had to be.

“I won’t be. I promise.” He grinned, those devastating dimples flashing.

She knew he’d keep his word, and at that moment those words were the only thing that mattered.

CHAPTER

Seven

“QUIET NOW,” JAMIE said, placing his hand over Summer’s mouth and pressing hard enough to let her know he meant business—hard enough that it pressed her head into the downy softness of the mattress a little. And her sex went hot at the utter command in that small action.

He yanked her shorts down over her legs, his other hand still tight over her mouth. He pulled her sandals off and straddled her body, grinning down at her, his face utterly masculine and beautiful in the dim wash of silvery moonlight that shone through one of the open shutters. He looped a finger through the edge of her lace thong. She arched her hips, needing him to touch her, but he let the lace go and laid a heavy hand on her hip.

“Still,” he said, his tone full of authority.

She stopped moving, her breath coming out in hot pants against the hand clamped across her mouth. Her sex went tight, making her aware of how wet she was, how swollen.

Need him, need him, need him.

He was making her crazy. But she would do as she was told. He was right—the spanking had taken the fire out of her. Now all she wanted—needed—was to please him. Partly because she knew he wouldn’t reward her with the pleasure she craved otherwise, but also purely for the sake of pleasing him.

Jamie.

As she lay there blinking up at him, his grin faded and his expression shifted, his brows drawing together as he slid one hand over her breast.

“No bra. It really does seem like you dressed for me tonight. Good girl.”

She wasn’t about to argue. Not at this point. And maybe she had, somewhere in the back of her mind.

“But do you remember what happens to good girls, sugar?” he went on. “In case you’ve forgotten, a lot of things. And I can’t ever let you guess which way it’ll go, can I? Sometimes it’ll be putting my hand between your thighs and pressing my fingers into your hot pussy. And sometimes it might be spanking you until your skin is raw—because good or bad, you will get spanked. But you like that, don’t you, baby? You’ll like this, too.”

He drew back and used both hands to pinch her nipples, the fabric of her ribbed tank top grating against her flesh.

She moaned.

“Not enough? You never can get enough, but I love that about you.”

He pinched harder, twisting her sensitive flesh between his fingertips.

“Oh, God, Jamie!”

“‘Oh God’ good or ‘Oh God’ bad?”

“Both!”

He chuckled. “That’s my girl.”

His girl. Yes.

Then her entire body tried to arc off the bed as he pinched her so damn hard she nearly screamed, but he was still straddling her, holding her down. And immediately she was soaking, aching.

“Ah, you like that, sugar. Yeah, you do. You’re gonna like this, too.”

He tore his white tank top over his head. She could never see his body without appreciating the ripple of muscle in his abs, his shoulders, his biceps. Without his ink turning her on. And those luscious pierced nipples.

She groaned.

“Yeah, baby. I like to hear that—to hear your pleasure. I need it like I need my own breath.”

He bent over her and pushed her tank top up, baring her naked breasts, and placed a soft, hot kiss between them. She sighed. He turned his head and bit into the soft flesh.

“Ah!”

He shifted and took one stiff nipple into his mouth, stroking it with his tongue, then sucking hard, hurting her. Then he licked at the sore skin before sucking hard again. He was driving her mad, the pleasure and the pain some crazy elixir she couldn’t get enough of.

He moved down her body, lower and lower, until he was licking and kissing and nibbling his way around the lace of her thong. He forced her thighs apart with rough hands and moved his face lower. She felt the scruff on his jaw against one thigh, then he yanked the lace aside and plunged his tongue right into her.

“Oh! God . . .”

He began to fuck her with his tongue, hard and fast and relentless. Desire was like a series of electric shocks rumbling through her body. She needed more. Needed to come. But she knew this would be at his pace. Under his control.

Yes.

Suddenly he pressed his fingers into her—she didn’t know how many—and spread them inside her so that she was filled up, and he began a hard pumping.

“Jamie . . . I can’t take it. I can’t . . . can’t wait.”

“You can do it. Take it for me. Wait to come.”

Sensation built, a tight coil in her belly. Liquid heat in her sex. Her hips arched into his thrusting fingers and he pulled them away. She almost sobbed, her hands scrabbling at the cool sheets. But in moments he’d replaced his fingers with his hot, wet tongue and she sighed in relief. Sighed with indescribable pleasure when he began to lick her sensitive clit, his tongue moving fast, pressing hard, until the pleasure itself hurt. But she wouldn’t have had it any other way.