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  But he didn’t look disappointed, with one corner of his mouth hitched up in a crooked grin. He looked smug.

  Mia’s fingers flexed on the counter. Her gaze drifted to the wooden spoon. Beside it lay a large, shiny spatula. Her eyes grew wide as she realized what was coming.

  “Bend over the counter.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mia now knew what the cliché “her heart in her throat” meant, because it truly felt as though that organ was lodged there, pumping madly, keeping her from speech and barely allowing her breath.

  As though she had questioned him, he said, “You heard me.”

  Mia obeyed, her hands still flat on the granite countertop. Chess moved as smoothly as a cat to stand behind her, slightly to the side. His hip barely brushed hers. She felt his heat and hardness.

  “You know what happens to bad girls, don’t you?” he murmured. “They get punished.” He gently played with her hair as he spoke, toying with the strands at her nape.

  Mia trembled, bracing her arms on the counter.

  “Now I know nowadays it’s all the rage to have time-outs and naughty chairs, but I’m old-school, Ruffles. I go by the saying ‘Spare the rod and spoil the sub.’”

  Without warning the flat of his hand landed on her ass. Mia jerked. “Uhn!” It was a cry of surprise rather than pain.

  He smoothed the area he’d just smacked. Mia was still processing the first slap when the second one came, on the other butt cheek. The loud crack startled her more than the blow itself. It didn’t hurt terribly, just a mild sting through the fine wool of her slacks.

  Chess rubbed her butt again where he’d administered the spank. Warmth radiated from his touch.

  She wobbled a bit and tried to steady herself as she seesawed between expectation and alarm. Pinpricks of fear pimpled her skin. She liked what he was doing.

  He gave her another spank, in the middle of her buttocks. After that, he peppered her with smacks, always varying his aim so she couldn’t predict what came next. Sometimes he took his time, making her writhe in anticipation and fear as he rubbed her ass and told her what a bad girl she was. Sometimes the spanks came hard and fast, with no time to catch her breath between them.

  Chess took the wooden spoon and waved it in front of her face. “Did Grandma Carlino ever use one of these on you?”

  Mia blinked at the utensil, her brain muzzy. “No, Sir.”

  “No? Why not? Because you were a good girl for her, Ruffles?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Then why are you so bad for me?” He swatted her ass with the spoon. It covered a smaller area than his hand and gave a more concentrated sting. After a few more thwacks with the spoon, he tossed it aside, breathing hard. She trembled uncontrollably.

  “Stand up.”

  She obeyed and startled when he covered one of her hands with his. Her gaze flew to his, and the warmth in his eyes made her tingle down to her toes, in spite of her throbbing butt. Or maybe because of it.

  “Unzip your slacks and pull them down.” His voice was thick.

  Mia fumbled with the button. She couldn’t undo it—her hands shook too badly.

  Chess gently brushed her hands aside, made quick work of the button, and pulled down the zipper. He pushed her slacks and panties down until they bunched around her calves.

  Mia felt herself grow creamy as he looked his fill. He grasped a handful of ass cheek and kneaded. “Nice and pink. Hot.” With a hand on the middle of her back, he urged her down again. “Like this. Grab the edge.”

  Mia stretched out flat on the counter, curling her fingers around the far edge, her chest pressed against the granite, as her left cheek lay against the cool stone. Her breasts were heavy and achy, her nipples hard pebbles. He touched her with confidence, and she yielded to him easily. She felt calm, as though she were floating on a cool, placid lake. She was safe with him.

  She realized the wooden spoon and spatula had been lying there all the time, while they made dinner, while they ate. All the time they’d cooked and chatted, he’d planned this, looking at those utensils and imagining how he’d use them on her.

  Knowing that made her even wetter. She bit the inside of her cheek, willing the telltale moisture not to trickle down her thigh.

  She jumped at the thwack of the hard metal spatula against her butt, then another. One more on her other side. But it wasn’t enough—it wasn’t him. Mia wanted his hand.

  He must have felt the same frustration, because he groaned, and she heard a clatter as the spatula hit the floor. He massaged her hot butt cheek. “It’s no good, Ruffles. Your skin—it’s so soft. I have to touch you.” He smacked one cheek, smacked the other.

  Mia couldn’t help herself. A moan escaped her. “Please…”

  He paused, rubbing her ass. “Remember your safe words.”

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t want you to stop. I need to come. Please, Sir.”

  “Are you wet for me? Open up. Let me see.” Mia widened her stance as much as she could while one of his hands dipped between her legs. “Ahhh…” He sighed with appreciation as he lifted his fingers to show her the slippery evidence of her arousal. “Beautiful. Stand up.”

  As she obeyed, Chess snugged up behind her. The denim of his jeans felt rough and scratchy against her tender ass. He skimmed his right hand down her quivering belly, skated over her shaved pubis, and delved again between her thighs. Mia whimpered and widened her stance.

  “Shhh…” he said soothingly. His left hand held her close to him, pressed her back to his front. She rested against his solid chest and felt the hard ridge of his erection pressing at her lower back. “Can you feel me?” He gave a roll of his hips for emphasis. “Can you feel how hard I am for you, Ruffles? That’s what you do to me.”

  He let his left hand drift under her blouse and captured a hard nipple poking at her bra, gave it a squeeze. She drew in a hiss of breath as her pussy contracted hungrily and sparks shot through her. Her whole body felt soft and melty. “Ahh…”

  He seized her nipple between his index and middle fingers while he cradled and kneaded her cloth-covered breast. He played down below with his other hand, dipping into her slippery wetness, sliding it up and over and around her clit.

  He used his first two fingers to skate over her sex lips and slip inside her pussy while his thumb toyed with her clit. Mia curled into his touch. “Ohh…please…”

  “All right, Ruffles. You can come.” With his fingers buried in her juicy pussy, he whisked her throbbing clit once more with his thumb.

  “Ah…oh…oh…yesss…”

  Her flesh rippled around him as she came, biting her lip and curving into him. He nipped her neck with his teeth, and another orgasm crackled through her.

  When the pulsations subsided, Mia sank against him, her legs as soft as the cooked pasta they’d eaten for dinner. Sighing, she allowed Chess to drape her over the counter once more. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek to the cool granite top as Chess moved away. Mia somehow grew conscious of the sound of the refrigerator door opening and closing. A few moments later, she yelped as something icy cold pressed against her burning-hot butt.

  “What?” Her eyes flew open. Chess held a quart of ice cream.

  “We haven’t had our dessert yet,” he said, grinning. He pressed the carton to her ass again, and she squeaked. A moment later, she sighed.

  “Feels good?”

  “Mmm.” The cold ice cream certainly eased the burn. If only she could sit in a kiddie pool full of the stuff…

  He chuckled and tugged on the back of her blouse. “Stand up now.”

  Mia did. When she faced him, he was just putting a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “Lift your shirt.” His words were a bit garbled.

  When she raised it to just below her breasts, he gestured with the spoon. “Higher. I want to see those pretty breasts.”

  She bunched the fabric higher until her lacy white bra was exposed.

  Chess flicked open the front
fastener of her bra. “Mmm.” He smiled, admiring her rosy-brown nipples, which were hard and aching for his attention. He pushed the spoon deep into the ice cream, pulled it straight out. A thin layer of the dessert coated the spoon. Without warning, he pressed the spoon to her areola.

  “Yah!” Mia jumped, the cold metal freezing and burning at once.

  “Easy.” He painted her nipple with a thin white smear of ice cream. Then he licked it off, his tongue swirling her flesh until he’d removed every speck. He suctioned her nipple into his hot mouth for a sucking kiss and seemed reluctant to let go.

  “Delicious.” He pulled back and stared into her eyes. She trembled, suddenly feeling connected to him in a way that frightened her.

  If he realized it, he pretended not to notice. “Here.” He scooped out some ice cream and held the spoon to her mouth. “Have some.”

  She opened her mouth, and the cold, sweet flavor filled it. She giggled as she looked at the carton.

  He smiled. “What?”

  “It’s vanilla!”

  “I like vanilla…” Chess gave his eyebrows a wiggle. “When it comes to ice cream.” He popped another spoonful into his mouth and swooped down to capture her other nipple. Mia gasped at the frigid sensation, then sighed as his mouth warmed.

  When he pulled away, he told her, “Put your hands by your side.”

  Mia obeyed, and the blouse fell, covering her once again. Chess helped her step out of her lower garments and guided her to the living room. He reclined on the sofa and gestured for her to lie on top of him.

  “Like this? I’m not too heavy?” Her breasts were pressed to his chest, her pubis to his groin. His heavy cock stirred beneath his denim jeans, and Mia realized that she had not yet seen it this evening. She wanted to. She wanted to do more than just see it—she wanted to touch it, hold it, return some of the satisfaction that he had given her.

  “Are you kidding? My God, you’re a feather.” He propped his head against the armrest and stretched his body beneath her. He’d brought the ice cream with him and offered her another spoonful. He took one for himself and set the carton on the floor.

  “How’s your fanny?” He palmed her hot butt cheek.

  Mia smiled. “Sore, Sir.”

  “I should hope so, after the blistering I gave it. I thought this position might be a little easier for you than sitting.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He acknowledged her thanks with a nod. “You should thank me for the spanking too. For caring enough to correct you when you’re disrespectful.”

  Her heart thumped. Did he care? She hoped so. Because she cared for him. As far as she was concerned, their activities were far more than play.

  Be careful, Mia. Don’t make the same mistake you made with Philip.

  Their eyes met, and Mia couldn’t look away. She swallowed hard and spoke, her voice low. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re welcome.” His own voice had dropped an octave. The moment seemed to stretch. Mia felt the sudden impulse—no, the need—to kiss him.

  But this was his show. Last night he’d kissed her freely, claiming her. But this evening, he’d made no move to kiss her again. Why?

  Chess began to play with her, rubbing and kneading her ass. Mia wriggled, a bit shy at first. This wasn’t the same as when he spanked her and she couldn’t see his face. Soon enough she relaxed. She couldn’t deny it felt good. But she stiffened when his fingers coasted between her cheeks and he toyed with her there.

  Chess watched her carefully as he lightly brushed her anus. “You’ve never played here before?”

  Her face hot, Mia shook her head.

  “Would you like to?”

  “I’m…not sure.”

  His fingers circled her rosette. “Think about it.”

  Again she felt his cock stir and grow hard against her. She shifted, accidentally on purpose, rubbing against him.

  “There is something I would like, Sir.” She levered herself up, drawing her knees to either side of his hips. Her cleft brushed the ridge of his erection. The soft denim of his jeans felt sandpaper rough against her tender bottom.

  His eyes widened, and he grasped her hips to keep her still. “What is that?”

  “I’d like to make you come.” She felt bold, daring. He’d given her so much satisfaction, but for some reason hadn’t allowed her to please him. She wanted to prove that she could give as well as receive.

  He captured her hand as it moved to his fly. “Did I say you could do that, Ruffles?”

  “No, Sir.” She bit her lip. “Please let me.”

  “Why? Why should I give you the privilege of touching my cock?”

  “I want to please you.” She tried moving again, but he dug his fingers into her buttocks, making her hiss.

  “Would that make you happy?” His gaze caressed her. Mia caught her breath. He cared about her happiness. She felt shaky again, knowing she was wading into dangerous waters.

  “Yes.” She had no doubt whatsoever. At this moment, her happiness depended upon pleasing him. That was all she wanted. There was no ulterior motive.

  He released her hand. “All right, Ruffles. Make yourself happy.”

  She unbuttoned his fly, stopped, and tugged at his shirt. “Take this off, Sir?”

  He sat up and pulled the shirt over his head with her assistance. “Now you,” he said, unbuttoning her blouse and divesting her of the bra. Leaving her nude.

  She wriggled a bit farther down his body, straddled his thighs, and unzipped his jeans. No need to ask the ultimate question—boxers or briefs?—because there was nothing at all between the denim and his hot, eager cock. Already hard, it grew even harder and larger as she trailed her fingers down the shaft. Mia swirled her finger around the head, smoothing a bead of precum into his silky flesh.

  She wanted to get both hands in there, massage his balls while she held his cock, but there wasn’t enough room. She raised herself to her knees and tugged at his jeans. Chess lifted his ass to let her pull them lower on his thighs. With a sigh, Mia sank down on his legs, inhaling the musky scent of his arousal.

  She took her time fisting his cock, enjoying the way his smooth skin moved fluidly over his steely hardness. With her other hand she caressed his sac, gently rolling his balls until they grew tight and drew up close to his body.

  Chess grasped her hand. “Enough. I don’t want to go off too soon.”

  The thread of need in his raspy voice pleased Mia, and her lips curved in a little smile of satisfaction. He was enjoying this. Though she was the submissive, tormenting him like this made her the powerful one.

  She leaned forward and kissed the middle of his hairy chest. She kissed his left nipple. Then she nipped it.

  “Umph!” He lightly smacked her ass, then rubbed it. “Bad girl.”

  Mia smiled. She enjoyed being bad.

  Let’s see if I can be worse still.

  She draped her arm over the edge of the sofa and lifted the carton of vanilla ice cream, now melted. Little by little she drizzled the creamy liquid onto him in her best impression of Jackson Pollock. Chess’s torso became her canvas, the spoon her paintbrush. The “paint” adorned his chest in aimless swirls and squiggles.

  Mia rested on her haunches to admire her artwork. Chess gazed at her, his eyes glittering, heavy-lidded. His lips were full and rosy, as though he’d been kissed. Lust shot through Mia like an arrow heading straight to her pussy. She wanted to kiss those lips, lick them, bite them.

  But he hadn’t invited her to. So she would simply content herself with the rest of him.

  She leaned in to lick away the trail of melted ice cream, her tongue lapping, tickling, and teasing all the way. She tasted the slightly soapy, salty tang of his skin along with the sweet vanilla flavor. She felt the smoothness of his flesh and the roughness of his light brown chest hair.

  Once she licked his chest clean, Mia dripped some ice cream down his stomach. Again she trailed her lips along the path she created, pausing to suck
out the little puddle that had collected in his belly button.

  She grasped his cock again and took another look at his face. He lay still, his breathing measured, his features taut. She knew he was ceding control to her in this moment, letting her set the pace. It was his gift to her.

  Mia took the spoon once more and dabbed a spot of ice cream on his cockhead, where a new bead of precum had appeared. She lowered her head to swirl the two flavors onto her tongue—salty and sweet. She took the entire head of his cock into her mouth, a juicy plum for her to suckle.

  But she wanted to do so much more. She released him with a pop and licked along his shaft, delicately tracing the veins with the tip of her tongue and using the flat of her tongue for a broader stroke.

  As his breath quickened, Mia opened her mouth to accept as much of him in as she could. Breathing through her nose, she relaxed her throat muscles, taking him deeply. He hissed, and his body stiffened as he came, his cum pulsing into her mouth.

  She swallowed and laid her head against his thigh as Chess sighed and combed his fingers through her hair. “Sit up,” he said. Once she obeyed, he brought the ice-cream carton to her lips and tilted the melted remainder into her mouth.

  Before she could swallow all the sweet vanilla, some of it trickled down her chin. Chess licked away the overflow, his tongue quickly bathing her chin and mouth. And too soon his lips were gone. Disappointment flooded Mia. He’d cheated her. She wanted more of his tongue, his lips. She wanted his kiss.

  “That was excellent, Ruffles,” he said.

  His praise should have made her proud, but for some reason it felt like a slap in the face. Why? What had she expected? I love you?

  Maybe. Last night, they’d crossed a threshold. Or so she thought. Had she mistaken Master for lover? Or was Chess trying to step back emotionally by retreating to a simple Dom-sub relationship?

  Her heart thumped sluggishly while Chess waited for a response. Get it together, Mia.

  She dipped her head so he couldn’t read the disappointment on her face. “Thank you, Sir.”

  Chapter Thirteen