Read Online Dominating Amy by Emily Ryan-Davis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emily Ryan-Davis
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isn’t making a mistake. It’s deliberate.
“You claim you don’t want to do things that will hurt me,” he continued. “Revise your thinking and change ‘hurt’ to ‘deceive.’ Get in your mind and heart a dedication to being truthful with me. Are you unclear on anything so far?”
“No, sir,” she whispered. The small word danced in her stomach like startled butterflies.
He stood and pulled her to her feet, keeping her so close his thighs brushed hers and the fibers of his shirt teased her nipples. The butterfly dance increased its tempo. “So you know what to expect now, and in the future, never forget that in this household, the punishment will fit the intent of the crime.” He put his foot on the edge of the coffee table and shoved it back. “Bend over, Amy.”
Chapter Ten
Shock widened her eyes and the color drained from her cheeks. Her lips parted, some words forming to forestall him, no doubt. Mac touched his finger to her lips. “You admitted to breaking the rule. Bend over.”
She stepped back into the space he’d cleared for her and bent to hug his thigh. He’d expected her to turn away from him and brace herself on the coffee table; this choice put him at a loss. He focused on controlling himself, but the prospect of spanking his wife, his best friend, made him tremble. Amy wouldn’t miss that, not with her arms wrapped around his thigh and her cheek on his hip. She wouldn’t miss the rock hard bulge that betrayed his arousal, either.
He caressed the length of her back, stroking from her shoulders to the crest of her bottom. He’d forgotten the silky texture of her skin. She had a fair complexion, pale and prone to bruising; he squeezed her left cheek and his thumbprint showed white, then red, against her skin. He didn’t want to hurt her—hitting was synonymous with abuse in his mind. The first slap was light and tentative and it landed closer to the small of her back instead of square on her behind. Amy jumped but didn’t cry out.
Her heartbeat accelerated beneath his free hand. Mac widened his stance and cupped her hip, repositioning her at an angle that gave him access to the full round of her ass. The second slap connected with a resounding crack of flesh on flesh, and left his palm tingling. He flexed his fingers and marveled at the sensation of needles pricking his palm. Sharing her discomfort anchored him more firmly in the moment. It created a strange connection. Amy whimpered and the vibration of her small sound shot through his wrist. Mouth dry, he brought his hand down again, glorying in the hot sting that spread across his skin. She tightened her grip on his thigh and his cock jumped.
He spanked her again, half a dozen times in deliberately timed succession, fascinated by the progression of color from pale cream to deep, angry pink. Her gasps echoed every smack. Amy shook, but except for sharp little breaths and the occasional mew muffled against his hip, she remained silent.
He could spank her until she cried out and begged him to stop. The urge crept in the back of his mind, so strong it made him catch his breath. The prospect of reducing Amy to a red-assed, quivering mess jacked up his heart rate. Would she enjoy it? He balled his hand into a fist, resisting the urge to strike her again, but couldn’t chase off a curiosity. His fingers relaxed, slid over the friction-heated curve of her bottom, and brushed her curls in what he hoped was a discreet touch. She arched her back and rubbed against his hand.
She was wet. The discovery nearly undid him. His fingers slid deeper into her cream, drawn to her entrance and the tight, slippery knot beyond.
“Let go,” he said, suppressing a fantasy of slipping behind her, unzipping his fly, and ramming into her. God . Her ass would be so warm against his groin. “Stand up.” His breathing was shallow, testament to his excited state. He prayed Amy didn’t misunderstand his arousal for an interest in
“You claim you don’t want to do things that will hurt me,” he continued. “Revise your thinking and change ‘hurt’ to ‘deceive.’ Get in your mind and heart a dedication to being truthful with me. Are you unclear on anything so far?”
“No, sir,” she whispered. The small word danced in her stomach like startled butterflies.
He stood and pulled her to her feet, keeping her so close his thighs brushed hers and the fibers of his shirt teased her nipples. The butterfly dance increased its tempo. “So you know what to expect now, and in the future, never forget that in this household, the punishment will fit the intent of the crime.” He put his foot on the edge of the coffee table and shoved it back. “Bend over, Amy.”
Chapter Ten
Shock widened her eyes and the color drained from her cheeks. Her lips parted, some words forming to forestall him, no doubt. Mac touched his finger to her lips. “You admitted to breaking the rule. Bend over.”
She stepped back into the space he’d cleared for her and bent to hug his thigh. He’d expected her to turn away from him and brace herself on the coffee table; this choice put him at a loss. He focused on controlling himself, but the prospect of spanking his wife, his best friend, made him tremble. Amy wouldn’t miss that, not with her arms wrapped around his thigh and her cheek on his hip. She wouldn’t miss the rock hard bulge that betrayed his arousal, either.
He caressed the length of her back, stroking from her shoulders to the crest of her bottom. He’d forgotten the silky texture of her skin. She had a fair complexion, pale and prone to bruising; he squeezed her left cheek and his thumbprint showed white, then red, against her skin. He didn’t want to hurt her—hitting was synonymous with abuse in his mind. The first slap was light and tentative and it landed closer to the small of her back instead of square on her behind. Amy jumped but didn’t cry out.
Her heartbeat accelerated beneath his free hand. Mac widened his stance and cupped her hip, repositioning her at an angle that gave him access to the full round of her ass. The second slap connected with a resounding crack of flesh on flesh, and left his palm tingling. He flexed his fingers and marveled at the sensation of needles pricking his palm. Sharing her discomfort anchored him more firmly in the moment. It created a strange connection. Amy whimpered and the vibration of her small sound shot through his wrist. Mouth dry, he brought his hand down again, glorying in the hot sting that spread across his skin. She tightened her grip on his thigh and his cock jumped.
He spanked her again, half a dozen times in deliberately timed succession, fascinated by the progression of color from pale cream to deep, angry pink. Her gasps echoed every smack. Amy shook, but except for sharp little breaths and the occasional mew muffled against his hip, she remained silent.
He could spank her until she cried out and begged him to stop. The urge crept in the back of his mind, so strong it made him catch his breath. The prospect of reducing Amy to a red-assed, quivering mess jacked up his heart rate. Would she enjoy it? He balled his hand into a fist, resisting the urge to strike her again, but couldn’t chase off a curiosity. His fingers relaxed, slid over the friction-heated curve of her bottom, and brushed her curls in what he hoped was a discreet touch. She arched her back and rubbed against his hand.
She was wet. The discovery nearly undid him. His fingers slid deeper into her cream, drawn to her entrance and the tight, slippery knot beyond.
“Let go,” he said, suppressing a fantasy of slipping behind her, unzipping his fly, and ramming into her. God . Her ass would be so warm against his groin. “Stand up.” His breathing was shallow, testament to his excited state. He prayed Amy didn’t misunderstand his arousal for an interest in
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