Lexi
I text Bobby’s number the minute I walk out of the sample class Friday evening. I just taught my class!
And? he replies ten minutes later.
I think I rocked it. I send him a fingers crossed emoji.
You got this, he replies. I’m tied up tonight, but I’ll try to get over there by 9.
I try to swallow my disappointment. I’d been hoping for another fancy dinner to celebrate. I’m getting spoiled.
Okay, see you then, I text back.
At 8:30 p. m., I take a bath in the big jacuzzi tub and put on a lacy bralette and matching lacy panties. When 9 p. m. rolls around, Bobby doesn’t show or text.
At 9:30 p. m. I get a text saying, Running late.
I send back the simple one-letter reply, K, expecting he meant a few more minutes late. By 10 p. m., though, I’m getting antsy.
I guess I’m addicted to Bobby. Or his orgasms. Or something. I need satisfaction, and only he can bring it.
What’s up? I text.
Sorry, baby, I’m still tied up but definitely coming. Be there in less than an hour.
At 11 p. m., when he still hasn’t arrived, I text, WTF?
He doesn’t reply.
Still not ready to throw in the towel and go to bed, I keep my sexy outfit on and sit on the sofa, watching TV. I’ve mostly written him off but still feel like I should wait up to see if he ever responds.
Twenty minutes later he walks through the door looking like he just stepped off the cover of a men’s magazine. He’s in an expensive suit and tie, but he smells faintly of whiskey. His eyes glitter with dark purpose.
“What is this?” He raises a brow and shows me the screen of his phone, which displays my last text message.
“Oops.” Yeah, I’m guessing the mob boss doesn’t like disrespectful texts. Note to selfdon’t brat the guy who gets off on delivering punishment.
Or maybe I should. Because I can tell he’s relishing the idea of punishing me.
The clenching between my legs tells me I’m relishing it, too.
His lips twitch like he thinks I’m cute. He shrugs out of his jacket. “Yeah. Oops. Someone’s in trouble now.”
I stand and walk around the sofa to greet him. “Sorry?”
He tosses jacket and phone onto the glass coffee table. He unbuttons the cuff of one sleeve and starts to roll it up. “I understand I disrespected your time, but we do have an agreement: you are available to me. Not the other way around.”
I hold his gaze and lower to my knees, unbuckling his belt and opening his trousers.
He goes still when I release his erection, as if he can’t roll up the other cuff while I’m touching him there. “That would be a nice apology, bambina.”
I fist the base of his cock and moisten my lips before I slide them slowly over the head.
He groans and rolls up the other cuff. He’s making a show of it for my benefit, I’m sure.
I do my best to make it up to him, taking him deep into the pocket of my cheek then coming off to let the air cool his skin before I take him deep again. He groans. “That’s it, bambina.”
I love his approval. I continue to work his cock, sometimes concentrating on the head, then taking him straight to the back of my throat, relaxing my gag reflex to take him all the way.
He mutters a curse in Italian and fists my hair in the back. I love the roughness, especially when he starts controlling my head, pulling me on and off, then holding me still, so he can shove in and out.
He comes in my mouth, and I suck him clean, drinking in the warmth of his gaze as he puts his cock away. “That was nice, but it doesn’t get you out of your punishment.” He smirks and sits down on the couch, then pats his thighs. “Come here, baby.”
My stomach flutters as I obey his command, kneeling beside him to drape myself over his lap.
He starts spanking with his hand, one cheek, then the other, then square in the middle. I squirm as the fire begins to set in.
He pauses and pulls my lacy panties down. They catch underneath me, and tear. “Oops. Sorry, baby. I’ll buy you new ones.”
He strokes my bare skin, making goosebumps rise before he begins to spank again. I squeeze my cheeks together and straighten my legs, stiffening like a surfboard.
“Push your ass out,” he commands.
I don’t move for a moment, and he doesn’t resume, clearly waiting for me to follow his instructions. I consider ignoring them, but of course, it would get me nowhere. I’m the one folded over his lap with my panties down. I release my clenched butt muscles and hollow my back, presenting my butt for his punishment.
“Good girl.” He begins to spank again, methodically, evenly, one side then the other, right on the place where cheek meets thigh.
I wriggle over his lap.
“I’m sorry!” I gasp when it starts to burn, reaching back to try to cover my butt. Bobby takes my wrist and bends my arm behind my back, pinning it there while he continues to apply rapid-fire smacks to the lower half of my ass. To my surprise, he shifts the grasp on my wrist so he’s holding my hand instead, as if offering tenderness or support while he inflicts pain.
The endorphins kick in. A rush of pleasure at the pain soaks through me, along with an ocean of affection for my punisher.
“I’m sorry!” I repeat.
“Sorry for what?” He traces a circle around my ass, soothing away the sting.
“Sorry for pissing you off?”
He chuckles. “Wrong answer.” He gives me two more spanks. “Sorry for pissing me off means you don’t think you did anything wrong.”
“I’m sorry I cursed?” I keep groping. “Sorry I disrespected you.”
Bobby’s hand tangles in my hair in an unhurried caress. He delivers several more spanks, then dips his fingers between my legs and rubs over my soaked slit. “Mmm. You liked your spanking,” he rumbles, obviously enjoying himself.
I wiggle my ass on his lap. I’m ready for morepain or pleasurewhatever he wants to deliver. I want it all.
The intensity of this relationship matches no other. With Bobby, I’ve been my most vulnerable and found in him more concern, attention and caring than I’ve ever received from any man. He handles intimacy better than anyone I know-hell, he demands it from me. And he proves himself worthy of it, again and again.
He finds my clit and circles it and a mini-orgasm ripples through me. “That’s right, baby,” he murmurs. “I like when you come on my fingers.”
Bobby lifts me to straddle his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and rock over the bulge in his pants. “You’re not really mad at me, are you?” I ask, even though I already know he’s enjoying himself thoroughly.
“Mad about you,” he murmurs in my hair. He kisses me, then pulls away, and strokes my lower lip with his thumb.
I take it into my mouth and suck. Hard.
His gaze darkens. He pats the sofa cushion. “Kneel up, bambi.”
I climb onto my knees facing the back of the couch. Bobby stands behind me and rolls on a condom. I’m already in outer space, so the moment he pushes into me, my eyes roll back in my head with pleasure. He grips my hips and fucks me roughly, his loins slapping against mine. I hand onto the back of the couch, bracing myself, pushing my ass back to take him even deeper.
The room swoops and tilts like I’m on a rollercoaster. I’m lightheaded, awash with pleasure. Bobby’s fingers tighten around my hips, his thrusts grow more rough.
“Please,” I whimper, needing to come again.
“Wait for permission,” he growls.
I hold my breath, holding off the orgasm hurtling closer as he continues to slam into me.
“Now, baby.” His voice chokes as he shoves in deep and spends. He reaches around to the front of my hips and rubs over my clit, and I shatter, ecstasy exploding from my core outward in spirals of heat and endorphins.
My shriek echoes off the walls, my toes curl. I shake and shudder and wring out every last drop of pleasure from Bobby’s cock.
Bobby continues to lightly stroke my clit. “And that’s what happens when you’re a bad girl,” he rumbles with satisfaction.