She took him into her throat. He hissed in pleasure and then pulled up on her hair, demanding she suck him fast and shallow. She pumped with her fist, avid to please him, wild to feel him succumb, desperate to taste him. He pushed her head down on him, and she took him into her throat again, her nostrils flaring for air. His hips lifted slightly off the couch, and he gasped. His restrained moan became a growl as he began to come. She felt him swell huge, her eyes going wide as he began to ejaculate, bypassing her gag reflex by coming directly in her throat.
He backed out after only a second or two, plunging back and forth between her clamping lips, emptying himself onto her tongue.
After a moment, his tight grip on her hair loosened as he massaged her scalp. His big, solid body slumped into the couch cushions. She slid him out of her mouth with a wet popping noise.
“You deserve a pink ass for that,” he said, watching her with a narrow-eyed gaze as she licked her lips of his residue. She saw his small smile and returned it. He hardly looked angry. More like a well-pleased, utterly satiated male.
“Are you going to give me one?” she asked, a shiver of excitement going through her.
“Without a doubt. You’re going to get a good paddling. I can’t have you distracting me while I do business, Francesca,” he murmured, his actions belying his words as he stroked her hair with one hand and caressed her cheek with the other, his manner tender. Cherishing. She couldn’t help but feel that he’d quite enjoyed being distracted.
“Go into the bathroom and put on a robe,” he said.
She stood and followed his instructions, her pulse fluttering at her throat. When she reentered the suite a few minutes later, she paused at the sight of Ian waiting for her, wearing only a pair of pants, his muscular, ridged torso bare.
“Follow me,” he said, taking her hand. Her eyes widened when she saw him extricate the keys from his briefcase.
“What I did wasn’t that bad, was it?” she asked anxiously as he unlocked the room where he said she’d receive her more severe punishments.
“You compromised my ability to think rationally while I was making a business decision,” he mused as he led her into the inner chamber and closed the door behind them, locking it.
He led her over to the tall stool she’d noticed on her first night in the room, the one that was situated before the balletlike bar on the wall and was curved unusually at the back. The front of it was normal enough, like a half circle. But the rear of it dipped inward, as if a crescent of the circle had been cut out. Ian left her and went over to the cherry cabinet, opening a drawer. She studied the stool, puzzled and increasingly excited. When she saw that Ian carried the jar of clitoral stimulant and the black leather paddle, her sex clenched tight.
He watched her face intently a moment later as he rubbed the cream on her clit.
“I’m going to give you fifteen good whacks. You deserve more for what you did.”
Her cheeks heated with defiance and arousal. “You were hardly complaining.”
His stern mouth twitched at that.
“Sit down on the stool, your face toward the wall,” he commanded. She did so, staying forward on the chair in order to avoid the crescent cutout at the back of the stool. “Scoot back so that your bottom falls over the edge. Lean forward and put your hands on the bar. That’s right.”
A rush of realization went through her as she leaned over and gave the bar her upper body weight and her ass fell over the edge of the chair into the cutout. The cream started to make her clit burn as she watched in the mirror as Ian moved behind her, the black leather paddle gripped in his large hand.
Oh, no. Her bottom was utterly exposed and vulnerable . . . and right at the perfect location for his swinging arm.
Whack.
A whimper popped out of her throat at the quick sting and the lingering burn.
“Shhh,” Ian soothed, turning the paddle and rubbing her ass with the fur. “Too much?”
“I can take it,” she said breathlessly.
He caught her gaze in the mirror and smiled.
He swung his arm back and landed another smack, and then another. This time, he used his hand to soothe her bottom, caressing her and gently squeezing each buttock in his palm.
“It’s too bad you have such a gorgeous ass,” he muttered as he watched himself stroke her.
“Why?”
“Perhaps if you didn’t, I wouldn’t have to punish it so much.”
Her snort altered to a moan when he swung again, stinging the lower curve of her buttocks. She saw his cock leap against the fabric of his pants. He hissed and grabbed at it through the material.
“I thought I was being punished for distracting you while you worked,” she said, watching wide-eyed as he stroked his cock while he swung the paddle again. “Ouch,” she said in a beleaguered tone a second later when he paddled her in the same smarting area—the lower curve of her buttocks. He really did like spanking her there. Despite the quick sting, her clit pinched tight in arousal.
“Sorry,” he muttered, now landing the paddle higher up on her cheeks. “You are being paddled for distracting me. I’m just saying . . . such a gorgeous ass is destined to be punished often,” he said, a small smile pulling at his mouth. She suppressed a moan when he landed another blow. She could see that her ass was starting to blush pink in the mirror to her right.
She couldn’t suppress a moan of pure arousal when he unzipped his trousers and shoved them and his briefs beneath his balls and his erection.
“Ian,” she groaned upon seeing his exposed cock.