When I'm With You: The Complete Novel (20 page)

Her eyes widened. “You're going to spank me with Grand-Mère's hairbrush?”

He smiled. “I like to innovate with whatever is available to me, and Grand-Mère will never know. It'll be our own little secret,” he said, positioning himself next to her body instead of in front of her. “Now bend over.”

Her lips curved alluringly. She held his gaze as she leaned over slowly—a nimble, sleek seduction—putting her bound hands on her knees.

“Witch,” he accused. Her smile widened and he smiled back. He couldn't stop himself. She couldn't help it if everything she did was sex distilled. “Stare at the floor this instant. What did I tell you last time about seducing me during a punishment?” he asked mildly as he rubbed her firm, pink bottom. She stilled beneath him when his fingers brushed close to her thighs at the lower curve of her ass. He was so tempted to dip his fingers into the sweet, wet heaven of her.

“You said you'd give me more punishment,” he heard her say. He blinked, his lustful trance fracturing.

“That's right,” he murmured as he trailed a hand up her spine and felt her shiver beneath his touch. His cock swelled so tight, he didn't think there was room in his skin anymore. He wanted to ride her until the oblivion of climax shook him, abandon himself to her fires. But if he didn't maintain control, both of them would be lost.

He firmed his hold on her shoulder and drew back the hairbrush, the smooth enameled three-by-four-inch back of it facing Elise's ass.

“This will sting more than the spanking,” he said. “Why in God's name couldn't you have asked me for help?”

“I couldn't,” he heard her say in a muffled voice.

“But why?” he demanded.

A pause. He waited, his arm suspended in the air.

“I was too proud,” he finally heard her whisper.

He swung the hairbrush. It hit her bottom with a brisk pop, the blow shivering through her taut flesh in a way that made his cock jump. He held her steady when she squeaked and lurched forward slightly.

He popped her bottom again and again.

“Ooh!”

“Is it too much?” he asked, palming a buttock and rubbing it. She was growing hot. He listened, his ear cocked, ignoring his raging cock.

“No. It's bearable,” she said after a moment, her shaky yet brave response making him close his eyes briefly, shielding himself from the glory of her.

He carefully examined her reddening ass, kneading the exquisitely soft, hot flesh. Yes, she could take a few more, but not much. He would never want to mark her, and she had a very tender, sensitive ass.

“You will take three more,” he said, “but I'm not going easy on you for the last. Brace yourself.” He saw her muscles tense in anticipation. Still holding her steady with one hand and rubbing her ass with the other, he examined her, his gaze catching on the delicious under-curve of her firm breasts suspended in the air as she bent over. Such sweet, tempting fruit. He let go of her shoulder and reached beneath her. She jumped and whimpered when he gently pinched a nipple.

“This nipple is hard. Are you aroused, little girl?” he growled softly.

Her breath froze on an inhale. “And if I am?” she asked warily after a moment.

“Then you wouldn't be the only one,” he admitted, tweaking erect flesh. Her moan sounded feverish. “But this is still a punishment. I thought I'd have a heart attack, seeing that degenerate Johnson with his hands on your earlier.”

“You . . . you did?”

“What do you think? He's lucky I didn't take his head off.”

She gasped, but he thought it was because of what he was doing to her nipple more than what he'd said. “I saw him before they put him in the ambulance. You nearly did.”

“The bastard will end up fine—unfortunately, for the rest of the world,” he said, sounding bitter as he considered the possibility of Baden Johnson back on the street in months or weeks. He pressed her nipple to the palm of his hand and made a subtle circling motion. Elise made a choked sound. “My point was, this is a punishment,” he said, reminding himself as much as her. “Your last three strokes
will
hurt.”

He molded her entire breast to his palm before he reluctantly let go of her. He'd never felt such tender, responsive flesh in his life. Her heart had been beating frantically against his hungry hand.

He could so easily lose himself in her.

* * *

Your last three strokes
will
hurt.

His warning echoed in her brain, mounting what was already almost an unbearable anticipation. Would it really hurt that much? And what about after he was finished? He'd said he owed her pleasure. The sharp pinch at her clit made her instinctively clench her thigh and buttock muscles. She so wanted to touch herself and come in a hot rush of excitement.

“I need your legs wider. Here, come over to this desk.”

He helped her stand. She followed him, wincing slightly at the burn on her bottom. She watched him move aside the desk chair and a few of her papers, clearing the surface. It humiliated her a little that she was completely naked, save the pearls and her sandals, her bottom more than likely red from her punishment, while Lucien was still immaculately dressed. He'd asked her to trust him. What better proof did he need for it than this?

Having cleared the desk, he approached her. She looked up, studying his handsome face as he carefully unwound the pearls, unbinding her. What was he thinking? How could he look so untouchable, so unreachable as he did these intimate things to her?

Her gaze slid down his taut abdomen to his crotch and thighs. No. He was far from cold when it came to her. His arousal was blatant and awesome to behold. Things were very full behind his crotch and the pillar of his cock pressed against fabric in a mouthwatering fashion. She swore she could make out the shape of the thick, tapering crown. Her clit tingled, and again, she longed to touch herself, staunch the ache. She opened her mouth to . . .
what
?

Beg him?

Her lips closed, but her tongue and throat seemed to burn with the repressed plea. He paused in his task.

“Yes? Do you want to say something?” he asked quietly.

Her pride rallied. “No,” she replied, jerking her gaze off his cock.

“Very well. Bend over and put your elbows on the desk,” he said matter-of-factly when he'd removed the pearls and placed them on the bed. He took her hand and guided her, his touch gentle. “Fold your arms. Good, now rest your forehead on your forearm.” She felt as if her lungs wouldn't work properly as she struggled to do his bidding. She had to bend over farther than she had previously in order to reach the surface of the low desk. The position left her thoroughly exposed. She stilled when Lucien placed his hands on her shoulders. “Slide back some,” he said, his voice sounding thick . . . gruff.

She moved back on the desk and her breasts spilled over the edge. Lucien made a rough sound.

“Perfect,” he said. He gently struck her inner thigh with the hard edge of her
grand-mère's
brush. “Spread your legs more.”

She did so, suppressing a moan. He opened his large hand over her lower ass and lifted. Cool air kissed her damp, heated sex.

“Lucien,” she cried out shakily, not sure if the single word was a plea for him to stop exposing her pussy or for him to touch what he'd exposed. She experienced his stare on her like a burning touch.

“God,” she heard him mutter.
“Tu es belle.”

You're beautiful.
Her heart felt like it'd explode from her chest. It jump-started when he released her ass and swung the brush.

“Ow,” popped out of her throat. Her bottom smarted where he'd struck, but it'd been more surprise than pain that had instigated her response. He immediately replaced the brush with his hand, rubbing and soothing the stinging flesh.

“Two more like that.”

“Okay,” she managed shakily.

“Hold steady.”

She couldn't stop herself. She turned her chin, still keeping her head on her folded arms, and watched him through a few curls as he swung, taut, powerful muscles flexing beneath his dress shirt. The brush made a cracking sound as it smacked her ass. She felt the burst of sensation and winced, gritting her teeth. Lucien's gaze was fixed on her breast. She saw his nostrils flare as the blow shook through the suspended flesh.

A groan burned in her throat. His stare leapt to her face. A spark of arousal seemed to leap between them.

“Tu es belle,”
she whispered between soft pants.

His expression turned fierce.

“Damn you, Elise.” He placed one hand on the back of her head and turned her, so that all she could see was her folded forearms and the cheap wood veneer of the desktop. Her thighs quaked. He'd sounded so . . .
something
just now. Was he angry?

Suddenly, his hand was spread on her far hip and his body was on the other side. He pressed and rubbed the side of her ass against his cock, his actions frankly lascivious. Her eyes sprang wide.

No . . . not angry. Aroused to the breaking point.

She whimpered as he ground their flesh together, mounting the almost unbearable tension in their straining bodies. Her ass was trapped, sandwiched between his hard body and his strong hold. It was the tautest, most electrical moment she'd ever experienced or imagined in her life.

The hairbrush landed with a crack. A cry popped out of her throat. Oh, how her ass burned.

Something hit the desk. She lifted her head and saw the instrument of torture itself—the hairbrush—resting on the desk. Then his hand was rubbing her bottom, soothing her, even as his cock throbbed next to her hip. The moment was so full, so incendiary, she felt as if she couldn't take a complete breath.

“Your punishment is done. Stand up.”

She tried to do as he'd said, but her flesh felt heavy and torpid with arousal. He moved back slightly to help her. She made a sound of protest in her throat at the loss of his primal heat resonating against her. But then he was helping her to rise, and his arms enclosed her.

“Lucien,” she mouthed through numb-feeling lips, turning her face upward.

“I am here,” he said, his warm breath brushing against her mouth. He pressed her closer against him, overwhelming her with the sensation of his solid, powerful body. “You were very brave, accepting your punishment as you did.”

“I'll never let you do that to me again.”

“Yes, you will.”

“You're right,” she whispered. Who was she kidding? It was very exciting, submitting to him. “I will.”

He smiled and leaned down, covering her mouth with his, his kiss tender and passionate at once. His hands caressed her naked skin from flank to waist, weaving a spell she never wanted to escape. He cupped her bottom, leaning farther down over her. He was so tall, but she liked the way she fit against him. She shivered when she felt his fingers stretching at the back of her trembling thighs, then between them . . . seeking. He made a sound of dissatisfaction when they came up short.

“You are so tiny,” he murmured fondly, lifting her in his arms in one fluid movement. Her feet came off the floor. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips and gripped onto his shoulders.

He seized her mouth with his. She purred. Her legs curled tighter around his waist. Her entire awareness swam in the power of his kiss, of his touch, of hard, straining muscle. He held her steady with one arm. His free hand cupped an ass cheek, parting her.

He pushed just a fingertip into her pussy and groaned roughly.

“You're tight,” he muttered thickly, sounding a little crazed. He removed his finger. “And wet. God, you're soaking. You enjoy being punished, don't you?” he said against her lips. She whimpered as he transferred some of the juices from her slit to her outer sex. His finger burrowed between her labia.

“Answer me,” he said harshly.

“Yes.”

He seized her mouth in another scorching kiss.

She cried out in stark arousal. He'd been too tall to easily reach her pussy while they stood, but now he had her exactly where he wanted her. She was completely at his mercy, she realized, holding her nude body against him, her entire weight held suspended with one arm. He pillaged her mouth while he palmed her outer sex and stroked her clit with bulls-eye precision.

Not that she was protesting. She was about to ignite.

She bobbed her hips eagerly, increasing the pressure of his finger and kissing him back for all she was worth. Oh, this was delicious. The friction mounted as she bounced in his hold, riding his hand. Her clit simmered. She was going to explode into a million pieces.

Her rabid arousal was interrupted by a smacking sound and a burst of pain. Lucien had spanked her sore bottom. She cried out into his mouth. He sealed the kiss. She blinked, trying to bring him into focus. When she did, she saw his rigid features.

“You do not ride me,” he said gently. “I ride you.”

“
Nobody
rides me.”

Lucien's eyes flashed. She blushed when she realized what had burst out of her throat without thought.

“We shall see about that. Now hold still while I watch you come,” he said through a tight jaw. She opened her mouth to soften her outburst, but then his long finger was sliding between very slick labia and he was rubbing her clit, giving her just what she needed.

She gasped as distilled, focused pleasure smacked into her awareness. Oh God . . . he was exceptionally good at what he was doing. Lucien watched her, his light eyes gleaming beneath heavy lids.

“Let go,
ma chère
. Submit to it,” he whispered hoarsely.

She couldn't escape it. It wasn't like she really had a choice other than to follow his command to the letter.

She clung onto him even as she let go, abandoning herself to pleasure . . . giving herself to Lucien.