Free Safe in His Arms by Renee Rose

reached further to swat the other cheek, to make it even, and his thigh pressed between hers. She ground her hips over it, the warm moisture of her pussy dampening his pants. His own breath quickened and his cock swelled as he spanked harder, as hard as he could manage from their position. She rubbed her eager sex up and down over his thigh, whimpers of pain sounding remarkably similar to the cries of ecstasy, making his cock strain at his pants.
    He put his lips near her ear, still spanking, keeping his hand loose and enjoying the frenzy of pleasure and pain he was working into her. “I’m going to spank you, and then I’m going to whip you, and then I’m going to paddle you,” he said in a low growl. “And if you’re lucky I might fuck you when I’m done. But I do promise you won’t sit comfortably tomorrow.”
    She shuddered and he realized she’d climaxed, giving a strangled screech of protest, gluing her body to his as her pelvis jerked, her muscular buns tightening, her legs clamping firmly around his thigh. He squeezed her ass with one hand and held her against him with an arm around her waist until she stopped jerking, then pulled her to the bed where he guided her over his lap. He nudged his knee up, shifting her body to angle her rear end high in the air, making it a perfect target. He began a new set of spanks. She laid heavily over him, spent from her climax, the endorphins probably counteracting most or all of the pain he was attempting to inflict on her pink bottom.
    “Don’t you ever take a risk like that again,” he growled, smacking the backs of her thighs, which won him a reactionary kick and squeal.
    “I won’t!” she gasped. “I promise!” Her peaches-and-cream skin was a pretty shade of pink already, the outline of his fingers appearing with each swat.
    “You’ve been a very bad girl,” he scolded, continuing to abuse the backs of her thighs, where he seemed to be able to make an impression.
    “Ouch! I’m sorry!”
    He stopped and rubbed her cheeks, relishing the feel of her firm muscle, so perfectly shaped. “Let’s see,” he said musingly. “What is it they say? Not half as sorry as you’re going to be?”
    She groaned. He pushed her to stand between his knees, her hardened nipples impudently close to his face. He resisted the temptation to take one into his mouth. That would come later. This was discipline. He dragged his eyes higher to her face and gripped her thighs, giving her a little shake. “That was stupid, Becca!”
    “I know!” she exclaimed, her face flushed and her eyes wild.
    “Go stand in the corner.”
    “Yes, sir,” she mumbled, turning away quickly, as if relieved not to be under his scrutiny any longer. She pressed her nose so far in the corner, she leaned her forehead against it. A tremor ran through his body straight to his already eager cock at the sight of her, so exquisite in full nudity, the pink of her spanked skin and the humility of her pose conveying utter submission. He’d never craved submission from a woman before he’d had it from her, but now…the power of it, the trust—that was it, wasn’t it?
    He had very little trust in his life. His government trusted him enough to kill, to not roll over under torture, to carry out missions no one else would or could. But they might just as easily order his death on a whim. So that wasn’t trust. And there was the tenuous trust between other agents—with Marcus perhaps more than others. But that, too, was false. If he showed up unexpectedly at any one of their homes, they’d pull out a gun and shoot him before asking questions. All of them lived in as much fear of being eliminated by their own organization as by an enemy. No, Becca was the first person who trusted him, and who made him want desperately to be worthy of her gift. Her trust unsteadied him, even as it shored him.
    “Come back to me, Becca,” he said, his voice soft with tenderness.
    She came back, eying him uncertainly. He