He positioned her exactly where he wanted.
Head pinned to the mirror on the wall, her body slightly bent, vulnerable yet breathtaking. With one swift movement, he pulled the hem of her dress, gathering it around her waist and exposing her to him completely.
"Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" His voice was dark, deliberate.
She shook her head abruptly. Her throat was too dry to form even a single word.
"Your words, lady," he demanded, delivering a soft but firm slap across her bottom.
"No, please," she breathed, voice nearly
nonexistent.
"Good. Better," he murmured, satisfied. "Well then, since you've chosen silence over honesty, I'll coax the truth out of you. Right here, right now. Do you have any objections?"
She didn't. God, she wanted him. She had spent nights fantasizing about being fucked like this, bent over, staring at him through the mirror. And their fantasies were perfectly aligned. "No please," she whispered, barely audible.
