“What—” I look over my shoulder, seeking some kind of explanation.
My stranger holds up a small remote that must control the opacity of the glass. “I think you’ve seen enough. Now it’s your turn.”
“But—”
Whatever I planned to say next is cut off by the sharp sting of his palm landing on the curve of my ass. Heat radiates when his hand retreats and cold air whooshes before he makes contact with the other side.
Holy crap.It burns with a delicious ribbon of pleasure twining through the tingling. He’s not waiting for me to count, so maybe that’s not the protocol for this sort of thing. Not that I would know about protocol beyond the books I’ve read.
I brace for another, but instead he cups my cheeks in his hands and kneads them, intensifying the sensation.
“Fuck. Your ass was made for this.”
It takes everything I have not to arch my back and lift up toward him, seeking more contact.
I shouldn’t like this so much. Shouldn’t want more. Should run away screaming.
But fuck the shoulds and shouldn’ts. Now is the time tolive.Something I haven’t been doing for far too long.
“Done already?” I don’t recognize the throaty voice that comes from my lips. I sound bolder and more certain than I have in years.
Instead of raining down blows again, he stills his touch for a moment. “Misguided secretary. If you even knew what I was capable of ...”
His words trail off as he strokes the curve of my hip with his thumb. He lands four more strikes in quick succession, each landing on untouched areas, extending the delicious burn across my entire ass.
I squirm against the desk, reveling in how good it hurts.
Again, he massages the spots before I count out the remaining strikes in my head.Four. Three. Two. One.
Shockingly, I’m not ready for them to end, and my thighs clench together tighter than when I was watching the other couple.
Oh my God. What if someone is watching us?
I attempt to push up off the desk, but his strong hold on my hip keeps me pinned in place.
“If you can’t take it—”
“Who’s watching us?” The question comes out with a sharp edge, slicing off the remainder of his statement.
His grip tightens on my hip. “No one’s watching us.”
I should have no reason to believe him. And yet, I do.
The heat of his hard body soaks into my clothes as he leans forward, his heavy chest against my back.
“But I think you would like it if they were.” His voice deepens to a rumble, and my entire body tenses.
“No.” My reply comes out tentative.
The heat of his breath ghosts over my ear. “You sure about that?” His free hand skates over my skin, this time skimming dangerously close to the juncture of my thighs and the blazing heat of my arousal. “You wouldn’t love to have some stranger watching me touch you right now? Knowing that they’re wishing they were me? Wishing they had the fucking privilege, but knowing they’re out of luck because the only hands touching you tonight are mine?”
His words caress the shell of my ear, but goose bumps rise on every inch of my exposed skin at the images he paints.
“You’re a stranger.”
He glides a fingertip over the soaked seam of my pussy lips. “Don’t think your body cares a whole hell of a lot who I am. Why’d you stay? You could’ve run. As soon as you realized you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and this scene wasn’t set for you—you could’ve run. But you stayed because you wanted to. Try to deny it.”
My stomach drops, and once again, I attempt to rise but he doesn’t let me. “I—I ...” I trail off because I have no excuse for it.