The Final Act (#4 Bestselling Spotlight Series) (15 page)

“
I’m going to put you over my knee,” he says. “And paddle you.”

I’m suddenly off familiar ground.

Over his knee? Paddle me?

Before, James has spanked me bent over a desk. The idea of being placed over his knee
is another level.

Trust Mr Berkeley t
o put me out of my comfort zone.

In one fluid movement, James
seats himself on the bed and drags me by the hips so I’m standing between his legs.

Keeping his gaze locked on mine, James leans slightly sideways and opens a drawer next to his bed.

The bedside cabinet. What is he going to bring out?

His eyes never leave my face, and then his hand re
-emerges from the drawer. He’s holding an old fashioned hairbrush and a small white bottle.

A hairbrush?

“Sometimes, the traditional methods are the best,” murmurs James. “Have you ever been spanked with a hairbrush before?”

“I… No.”

Of course not!

A ghost of a smile appears on James’s face. “I forget,” he says, “that you had a very liberal upbringing.”

“What’s the bottle?” I ask, swallowing.

“Something for later,” he says. “It’s lubricant.”

I wonder where he means to use it. Because, already, I am surging with desire for him.

His eyes move to the hairbrush. I follow his gaze. It’s a round-backed brush with boar bristles. The kind you’d see in a Victorian children’s book.

“It’s a perfect shape,” says James, “to punish you with. Plenty of skin contact. And a good firm base.”

“You sound like a connoisseur,” I say weakly.

His eyes twinkle with amusement. “I suppose we should let you be the judge of that.”

He runs the firm bristles up the exposed skin of my thigh.
The firm bristles are scratchy, almost painfully so. I have to physically stop my knees collapsing.

“Face that way,” he says, whipping my body in a fast movement so I’m
turned at a right angle to him, my body facing towards his thigh.

“Now.” His hand moves the brush bristles to caress a lazy trail, from the small of my back to the full arc of my buttocks. I feel the skin quiver.

“Bend over.”
He says the words as barely more than a whisper. But there’s so much force in them. Even so, I hesitate. Being put over his knee. It’s… different to what we’ve done previously.

“Isabella,” growls James. “Are you going to bend over for your punishment? Or am I going to have to put you over my knee?”

“I…”

I’m still uncertain. “Put me over,” I whisper, closing my eyes to hide my embarrassment. I want him to do this so badly.
I’ve given up questioning where the urges have come from.

“Very well.” I feel the force of
his hand at the back of my legs and a grip at the base of my neck. And then I tumble forward, so I’m bent at the waist over James’s knee.

Over his knee. This is so demeaning.

His leg is positioned over the backs of my knees, pinning me firmly in place.

I feel his hands unshackle the bikini bottoms, and there’s a heavy thud as they drop to the floor. A fiery thrill of raw lust courses through my entire body.

Every fibre of my being is strained in anticipation of the spanking.

This is so hot.

“I’m going to enjoy spanking you,” says James. “And I’m going to enjoy fucking you afterwards.”

My eyes close again. And I feel
the bristles stroke over my naked buttocks with the softest feather-light touch.

“Arrgh!”
The sensation is maddeningly, crazily sexy. As though he’s setting every inch of my skin alight.

“Are you ready?” he asks. His voice is soft and dangerous.

I make a fractional movement of my head to indicate that I want him to spank me.

And then
,
wham
! The back of the hairbrush comes down on my upper thigh.

The flat shape smacks squarely against my skin, causing a bolt of pleasure-pain. I feel my body writhe against his knee, and his hand comes down, securing me more firmly.

I am pinned over his knee as he paddles me.

Smack!
The hairbrush hits my upper thigh again.

Mmmm.
It’s not painful. In fact, I am convulsing with the thrill of it. The sensation of being struck, so perfectly hits the borders of pleasure and pain, that it creates an incredible new feeling all of its own.

Do it again
!

My body is begging for him.

The hairbrush smacks down again, and I feel myself leap upwards from his thigh.

I’m bent over his knee, my fists balled up tight, as he wields the hairbrush again and again over my behind.

It’s a sharp, firm sensation, and I can feel the authority in his grip on my body.

I moan aloud, and James turns the brush and runs the hard bristles over the newly sensitised area.

“This is your lower thigh,” he murmurs. “I’m just getting you used to the feeling. When I move up to your ass, it will get much more intense.”

As if to illustrate his point, James swipes the bristle side of the brush quickly across my ass.

“Ahhh!” I moan aloud. With all the other hot feelings in my body, my buttocks have become super-sensitive, and even the brush stroke is an intense sensation.

He swipes again, and I bite my lip, pushing my face down further against his leg.

“I’m going to paddle your ass now,” he whispers.  “You won’t be able to take much of this. But I won’t give you more than you can handle.”

Mired in deep pulsing lust, his words are only half registering.

And then the flat of the hairbrush strikes my ass. And I feel an electric shock of sensation strike my buttocks and explode across my entire lower half.

“
Arrgh!” I’m hardly aware of what I’m saying as the brush comes again, bringing another tidal wave of sensation. “James!” I’m biting my lip and digging my fingers into his calves.

“Keep still,” he
murmurs. “Or I’ll do it harder.”

I will my body to freeze as the brush strikes again. But
I jolt forwards, unable to stop my body.

“Ahhhh!”

Another stroke comes, harder this time. And another. And I am transported up into a different world which is alive with writhing feelings.

He’s spanking me. And I’m enjoying it.

There’s no time to analyse this. I just let myself go. I’m bent over James’s knee, and he’s disciplining me. Hard.

Then, just when I think it could be too much, I feel his fingers dusting over the super-sensitised skin. Stroking and caressing.

My entire body is like a tight stretched wire, begging for relief. I hear James replace the hairbrush and pick up the bottle. And then, without warning, his fingers plunge deep into my ass.

Oh!

I feel my ass yield and then tighten around his fingers as they work me from the inside.

His fingers are in my ass!
I’m still working to get to grips with what is happening, in the riot of pleasure which is hitting my body.

Ordinarily
, the idea of something
there
would be too disconcerting. But right now, all I can concentrate on is the desire pulsing through my body. I want this. I want him to take me, body and soul, everywhere.

James’s fingers pump deeper into my ass, forcing me to surrender.

“Let me take you baby,” he whispers. “Don’t resist me. I promise you, it will be worth it.”

I moan, collapsing further forwards onto him, and I feel him push deeper.
And now he’s pulsing his hand rapidly, working me, opening me.

How can something feel so wrong and so good at the same time?

“Mmmmm.” The noise escapes my lips without me realising it. The feeling of having my ass invaded by his fingers. The humiliation of being put over his knee.

I like this.
The realisation bolts through me.

“Isabell
a,” says James. “Your body is very open to me right now.”

He means my ass.

James pauses. “If you wanted me to,” he says, “I could fuck your ass. I’ve worked you open enough to take me.”

His words cause a sudden tumult of uncertainty, and his fingers slow, moving in tantalising circles inside me.

It feels so good. But… him? There? I don’t know about that.

“Would you like me to?” he asks.

Mr Old-Fashioned is asking my opinion?
Do I want him there? His fingers are moving softly now, pleasuring me.

Mmmmm.
I feel my ass pulsing against his touch, and I know he’s working me deliberately. Seducing me.
There.

Part of me, a dark private part, wants him to
do whatever he wants with me. But I don’t know if I can take more right now.

I shake my head.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” I whisper.

Gently,
James slides his fingers out of me.

“Very well,” he says.

I feel a rush of disappointment. Was I hoping he would push the issue? My ass is pulsing from his touch.

“
I’ll have you deep then,” he decides. James pauses for a moment, and then flips me over so I’m facing him.

“I think you’re going to like this,” he says with a smile. “I’m putting you in control.”

He moves me to sit next to him on the bed.

“You are?”

He is?

James nods. “
It’s time I let you be in charge.”

Me?
Calling the shots?

“You want me to be in charge,” I repeat, the idea of it growing in appeal.

“Yes, I do,” he says. “I think you’d enjoy it.”

It takes a full beat to let the role reversal sink in. But once it’s in place, I realise this is a
completely thrilling thought. I stare at his muscular body, which is suddenly opening before me in endless possibilities.

Where do I start?

I run my hands experimentally along over his T-shirt, across his abs and down to his belly. James makes a faint moan of pleasure, and I am suddenly drunk with power.

My ass is still stinging from the hairbrush, but I am more than ready to take charge.

I tug up his T-shirt, eager to see underneath. And then I unbutton his jeans and pull them down over his thighs and over his feet.

I discard them wi
th a flourish and move back to pull his boxers over the sizeable offering underneath.

“Nice,” I
say as he springs free.

James smiles back. “I think I like you in control,” he says.

“Lie down,” I reply. “I’ve got plans for you.”

James raises an eyebrow and lies flat on the bed.

Using my flexibility, I pirouette my leg over his head, moving myself to straddle his hips.

Then I settle myself, teasingly against his hardness.

“Issy,” he groans, “that’s not fair.”

“Oh?” I say innocently
. “But I have no intention of playing fair. Surely you know that?”

I’m repeating his words from The Met Bar, and he regards me lazily.

“Be careful, Ms Green,” he warns. “You may be in control now, but I’m an old-fashioned man. You may find me compelled to bring the hairbrush to the party.”

Just the mention of the hairbrush sends a pelt of desire straight to my groin.

I grind into him more firmly, letting him feel my wetness slide against him.

He groans again, and his eyes flutter upwards.

I feel so powerful, sat astride him, gazing down at his face. Is this how he feels when he’s pleasuring me?

I lean forward, brush my lips against his. He pushes up, drawing me in to a deep kiss.

Mmmmm.

“Condom?” I ask.

“In the bedside drawer,” he groans. His hand points. “There.”

I reach across quickly, sensing his urgency, and pull out a foil package.

“Shall I put this on you?” I ask.

He nods, his jaw tight.

I unwrap the condom and begin rolling it onto him. Even the first contact of my hands makes him moan with pleasure, and as I roll the condom fully down, his breath is coming hard and fast.

I slide
my thighs down the sides of his body, positioning him under me. And then, using my hand, I push him up fractionally so he can feel where I’ll be moving him next.

My plan is to keep him here a little longer, playing with him.
But in an expert thrust of his hips, James jolts me back and enters me.

I gasp as he stretches me open, filling me up.