Chapter 20

“Take off your panties and sit on the counter,” Peter said.

With trembling fingers, Georgia reached under her skirt and rolled her underwear down her thighs. Stepping out of the lacy thong, she looked around, wondering what to do with them. Peter lifted them from her fingers and pocketed them. He regarded her with heavy-lidded intensity, as if every move she made was laden with promise. She felt gorgeous and glorious when he looked at her that way.

“Up on the counter,” he reminded her.

It never failed. When he used that tone, her belly went funny and the air in her lungs seemed a little thinner. Palms curved over the counter’s edge, she hoisted herself upward. Her bottom rested against the satin lining of her woolen skirt, and she shifted a little, enjoying the light abrasion. He’d said he was going to taste her. No…eat her. She shifted again, and stickiness met her thigh.

Peter leaned down and lifted one of her feet, encased in a high-heeled shoe complete with a sexy little ankle strap, and bent her knee before resting her foot on the counter to the right of her bottom. He did the same with the other, placing it to her left. Her pleated skirt pooled at her waist, baring her to him. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he slid one finger inside her pussy in a smooth motion, grazing her G-spot as he passed. Georgia gripped the cabinets behind her head and bore down as she whimpered.

“Uh-uh.” Peter shook his head as he made a disappointed sound with his tongue. “Stay still or I’ll have to spank you.”

She whimpered as an embarrassing amount of heat flooded her sex. He had to have felt it. He fucked her slowly with his finger, hooking the digit so it bumped and caught on her G-spot, compressing the tissues there on each partial withdrawal.

“You like that idea?” he murmured. “Me bending you over the kitchen table? Spanking your bottom pink?”

Breathless, she nodded and licked her lips. He wriggled his finger, and she shuddered against the impulse to buck.

“That’s a good girl.” He circled his finger and slipped another digit inside, stretching her walls. “I’m counting, you know, counting every time you move. Every time you make a sound. I’m adding them up. Adding them to your punishment.”

She clutched the cabinets so hard she swore she’d leave dents in the wood. Though she wanted what he promised—the sensual punishment and the sweet high of sexual vulnerability it’d bring—she tried to keep quiet. Tried to comply with his demands. It was more fun that way. Trying and losing simply because his touch was impossible to ignore.

With two fingers deep inside her, he lifted his thumb and twisted so his hand formed a V that cradled her sex. Sawing in and out, he jarred her sex and hit her clit with each penetration. His fingers wrung a slick melody from her pussy, echoing her arousal off the kitchen’s chrome surfaces as tension coiled and built low in her abdomen.

Her orgasm began as a catch of breath. On the next penetration, the sensation of slowly expanding fullness built. Two more and the sweet ache ballooned outward, stretching her tissues with a sense of inevitability. The tension could not hold. Eventually, if he kept jarring her clit in that rhythm, the pleasure would overflow the cup of her sex and rush outward to claim every nerve.

He added a third finger, pressed inward, widened his digits, and circled his thumb around and over her clit. When the cry tore from her lungs, uncontrolled and uncontrollable, he leaned into her, applying pressure she knew extended from his forearm down to his hand, and opened her to the unfurling waves of her orgasm. Pulse after pulse of white heat jerked her clit, its force absorbed and cast outward with each pump of her hips. Peter captured her lips and swallowed her cries, taking her breath and giving it back to her in an affirmation of life.

Spiraling downward, she slowly became aware of her hands in his hair. Fingers threaded and bobbing, she moved as he moved. At some point he’d lowered to the space between her thighs, where he kissed and nipped her now, his tongue alternately spearing and laving.

“No…” she moaned, trying to push him away as he captured her clit between his lips and sucked hard.

Her hips bucked, and he placed his hands on them to hold her down. To force her to take the painful pleasure he commanded and coaxed from her sensitive nerve endings. Sweat coated the backs of her knees and ran down her calves. Peter cavalierly threw both her legs over his shoulders and palmed her ass, canting her hips upward so her pussy better received his tongue. Each lingual thrust brought him deeper within her, stretching walls that pulsed with the aftereffects of her orgasm.

Keening cries crested, seeming to bounce from her lungs on each shock of pleasure he wrought. She lifted against him, building her own orgasm, not even able—much less daring—to think how many spanks she’d earned in the last thirty seconds alone. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he bit her clit between his lips and sucked hard. Her knees clamped around his ears, and her hips shot out of his hands as she came with a shriek that probably had neighbors three stories below calling the cops.

“Oh Georgia,” he said, his laugh wicked as he raised his head and met her barely focused stare with his glinting gaze. “You are so much fun.”

PETER REGARDED GEORGIA, noting her mottled skin and flashing gaze. She breathed hard, her chest heaving with each gasp as if her body attempted to wring oxygen from the air around her rather than filter the stuff in. Her fingers gradually loosened their grip on his hair, and her arms fell away.

“Ready for your punishment?” he asked, his cock so hard he didn’t know how he managed to speak in a normal tone, much less get the words out.

Lashes fluttering, she slowly seemed to register his question. He knew she’d grasped his meaning and intent when her eyes went wide.

“Come on now,” he cajoled, knowing he’d never hurt her. Knowing he only meant to bring her more pleasure than she could stand. “You know you earned it.”

She licked her lips and struggled to straighten up on the counter. He released his hold on her legs and slipped them from his shoulders. Holding out one hand, palm up, he gave her the ultimate mind fuck. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you comfortable.”

The wobble in her abdomen had to be acute given the way she sucked in her breath on a whimper. He took her hand and drew her gently off the counter and into his arms. One hand at her lower back, he pressed her into his erection and waited for her to notice how hard he was, how aching and crazy he was, all for her.

“I’m going to spank you, sweetheart,” he said. “And then I’m going to fuck you. Just like I promised.”

He tilted her chin up and kissed her lips in a lingering gesture. Hard enough to tell her he meant business, tender enough to make her feel safe.

“Trust me?” he asked.

Her gaze skittered around the room before she pulled her lip between her teeth and met his eyes and nodded.

“Good.” He kissed the top of her head and turned her gently toward the table before pushing her forward onto its smooth surface.

Palms down, she seemed to feel around blindly until he pressed firmly at her lower back. She lowered the rest of the way, cheek sideways on the table, and breathed out a trembling sigh. He leaned low, his torso along her back, his erection snugged to the cleft of her ass.

“I’d never hurt you,” he said, echoes of that timid question she’d asked him on the first night at his parents’ house rolling through his mind.

“I know. I want this. It makes me”—she closed her eyes, clearly torn between embarrassment and desire—“wet.”

In reward for her honesty, he brought his hand between them and pushed past her skirt to seek her heat beneath. She widened her stance a fraction, and he hummed his approval as his fingers found the silken flesh of her pussy. If she’d been aroused before—and he knew she had been—she was dripping now. All slippery warmth and peach-soft plumpness, her sex wept for his cock. His cock answered with a surge of its own lubrication, and he barely bit back a groan.

“Ask me, Georgia,” he said. “Ask me to spank you.”

She tensed, her hips lifting as she moved forward on the table, most likely to her toes. Her mewling whimper undid him. To coax her along and give himself time to regroup, he paused, withdrawing his fingers from her sex, brushing only the lightest of touches along her lips.

“Or don’t you want me to fuck you?” he murmured.

“Spank me.” Her gasp was a near wail. “Just do it and fuck me.”

She had him at spank me. Standing, pushing her skirt up her hips, he exposed her bottom and administered the first slap before either of them had time to take another breath. He’d lied to her. He hadn’t been able to keep count of the number of times she’d moved or cried out while on the counter. So he decided to spank her pink—to put a rosy blush on her cheeks, one he knew would reach to her clit and prime her for her third orgasm by the time he entered her.

He wanted to bring her over four times. Four and he’d be satisfied he’d done right by her. That she would think of him every time she sat, every time she breathed, for the rest of the week, even when he couldn’t be with her.

Each light slap against Georgia’s ass cheeks lifted the rounded flesh and set it bouncing. He played with her, alternating cheeks just to see if he could administer the next slap before the jiggling vibration stopped. She rocked forward with each blow, her breath coming in little gasps that carried with them a surprised little huff. As if she couldn’t believe a punishment could feel so good.

Heat built beneath his hand, telling him when she’d likely had enough—when the line of pleasure blurred with pain and left her nerve endings a wicked combination of needy and confused. One hand gripping her ass, alternating massaging circles with light squeezes, Peter unzipped his trousers with the other. Viscous fluid coated his underwear, sticking his cock to the cotton. He separated himself from the fabric and positioned himself behind Georgia.

Holding her by the hip, he angled his cock and pressed forward, stopping just in time as he remembered the condom. With shaking hands and an emphatic curse, he excavated the foil packet from his wallet, tore open the square, and rolled the latex down his cock. Properly jacketed, he angled himself once more, this time reaching around Georgia to pinch her clit as he shoved deep inside with one thrust.

Tight.

Hot.

She came, fluttering around him and bucking back, increasing the pressure around his cock and in his balls. He closed his eyes as sensation surged up his shaft, and barely dared to breathe, much less move, until Georgia’s fingers ceased spasming against the table and her cries quieted to throaty gasps. God, if they’d been skin to skin, with nothing between them, he would’ve shot the moment he’d breached her snug entrance.

With deliberate care, he began to move in full-length thrusts that had his cock emerging before he penetrated her once more. In one hand, he gathered her hair and gently tugged to arch Georgia up and back as he drew away to watch where their bodies joined. The pink globes of her ass separated beautifully as she widened her stance and exposed her intimate recesses to him. Glistening lips fluttered around his cock, her pussy opening for him hungrily again and again.

The tempo of his thrusts increased, the slap of skin on skin registering in time with the quickening of his pulse. With each breath in, the tightness in his quads and abs increased, pushing him closer and closer to the point of no return. On the precipice, he slowed a fraction and hung in midair, gliding on the gentle air currents until his release became a buffeting breeze that could no longer sustain his flight. He soared high, and higher, approaching the sun, and lost his wings to the burning heat. Plunging to the ground, embraced in ecstasy’s downward spiral, he’d never been so grateful for gravity’s pull.

When he came back to himself, Peter realized he didn’t know whether Georgia had come a fourth time or not. Judging from the way she could barely lift from the table when he finally managed to heave off her, he’d bet she had.

“Let’s never do that again,” she said, pushing her hands from her face.

His stomach lurched, and he tucked himself away. Appalled, he asked, “Did I hurt you?”

Georgia’s laugh was shaky. Perhaps even a tad breathless. “God no. The sex was wonderful.”

Relief snatched away adrenaline’s support, and he sat.

“What then?” he asked, running both hands through his damp hair.

“The bet.” Brushing his lips with a soft kiss, she murmured, “I hated not touching you.”

“Oh!” Peter grinned and pulled her into his lap, deepening the kiss. Lungs burning, oxygen more a necessity than a luxury, he was finally forced to break the kiss and open his eyes. “You mean you don’t want to wait until after Christmas to do this again?”

“I hope your parents can’t hear anything from the boathouse, because payback is a bitch.” Georgia batted her eyelashes at him, her expression and sugary tone keeping her meaning from Peter’s addled brain for more than a moment.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, a little uncomfortable, before he looked away. He’d never let a woman take control in the bedroom. In fact, he didn’t know if he could. Georgia caught his face in both her hands and brought his gaze around to hers.

“Hey,” she said, concern written in the furrow along her brow. “I was joking.” Her lips lifted. “With a performance like that, you can take charge all you want.”

Nodding, he cleared his throat, more than a little embarrassed.

“I don’t know what that’s about, to tell you the truth.” It was the most honest he’d ever been with a sexual partner. “I just need…” He shrugged.

“To be in control,” Georgia finished for him He nodded, his gaze flitting to the clock. It was late.

“I’m in Colorado until Friday,” he said. “Will you be okay?”

“It’s all good. I need to do some Christmas shopping tomorrow.” Georgia looped her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his. “Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting to spend the holiday with anyone except maybe Sid.”

Peter ran his hands up both of Georgia’s arms. “You don’t need to bring any gifts. Ma will be thrilled just to have you.”

“I want to,” she said, and he knew from the determined look in her eye not to bother arguing.

“Okay. Just don’t spend a lot.”

She opened her mouth, seeming to be on the verge of saying something, but then closed it again.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she answered and shifted off his lap. “I should go.”

He reached out to steady her when she wobbled.

“Will you stay?” he asked.

Smoothing down her skirt, she paused, seeming to consider his request before she grinned and shook her head. “Somehow I think if I do that, you won’t get much sleep.”

“Screw sleep.” He stood and encircled her wrist with his hand. “I’m going to be without you for forty-eight hours. I’ll sleep then.”

Her delighted expression grabbed his heart and gave a good, hard squeeze, but he batted away his budding terror. He swept her up. She squealed, and he kissed her quiet. As he strode into his bedroom, he realized that for all the riches in the world, and all the power and material goods at his disposal, he had everything he wanted right there. In his arms.