She bites her lip and looks forward again before slowly lifting the shirt up and over her head. It dangles from her fingertips for a moment before she drops it to the floor. She pauses, and I wonder if she’s going to back out. But she doesn’t. The sound of the zipper comes, and she shimmies her skirt off. A tiny red thong reveals most of her perfect peach of an ass.

Jesus fucking Christ, she’s perfect.

“The bra too,” I remind her when she drops her arms to her sides.

She shoots another glance back at me before reaching her arms around to unhook it and slide it off. It joins the pile of clothes on the floor. Her thumbs hook into the waistband of her thong.

“Stop.”

She freezes when I utter the word.

“You need to learn to listen better, naughty girl. Leave them. I want you on the bed on your hands and knees, your ass in the air.”

Her gaze snaps to the bed, and she takes a shaky step toward it. I move forward in one lunge, tearing the spread off it and tossing it aside.

Her hands hit the sheets as she stumbles forward. She stills for only a moment before crawling onto the bed and complying with my command.

“I’m going to rip those flimsy little panties right off you and eat that juicy cunt for dessert.”

When her entire body shivers at my words, I wonder if anyone has ever spoken so crudely to her. I highly doubt it.

But still, she doesn’t move. Doesn’t make a break for it, so I’m all in.

His words. Oh my God, his words. I’ve read things like that, but I’ve never heard someone say them. So dirty, so filthy . . . and God help me, so hot. Maybe there’s something wrong with me, but I like it. I want him to tell me what to do, because if he can make me feel this way with nothing but words and a few kisses, I want more.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as he shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it on a chair at the edge of the room. His cufflinks clink as they hit the top of the dresser. His hands don’t slow as they unbutton the shirt and toss it on top of the suit jacket. He strides toward the bed, and heat flares within me.

I’m expecting a soft touch, a caress, but instead his hand cracks across my naked butt cheek. The sting shoots up my body, followed by a hot, sensual burn.

An undignified squeak escapes my lips as I lower my ass out of the strike zone. But I don’t move fast enough.

Another smack catches the same cheek, but lower, where it meets my thigh.

“Why—” I start, but his big hand covers the sting, silencing me. A possessive squeeze of his palm is followed by his thumb sliding up and under the waistband of my panties.

“I’m keeping these,” he says before snapping the delicate lace of my panties and letting them flutter down my left leg. Another tug and they’re gone. “And I’m punishing you for hesitating to follow my orders. And because I’ve been dying to see my handprint on your ass since you first blushed in the bar.”

Once again, his words send a rush of desire through me unlike anything I’ve ever felt before—until his palm slides between my legs and cups me before dragging a single thick finger through my wetness.

He groans. “You’re fucking drenched for me. Jesus.”

His fingertip swirls my opening, teasing me. My thighs flex, and when he dips just barely inside, my inner walls clench, greedy and wanting to be filled.

What is happening to me? I push myself against his hand, and for a moment, he fills me. His hand drops away, and a cool rush of air precedes a light slap to my pussy.

“Wha—”

“My greedy girl is getting ahead of herself. I’ll give you what you need, but you’ll take it my way.”

When I exhale sharply, another firmer smack lands in the same spot. And then he grips my hips and flips me onto my back in a single movement.

My head is still spinning from the abrupt change in position, but my eyes track him as he leaves the edge of the bed, moves toward the entryway to the room, crouches low, and then returns.

He kneels at the base of the bed, grips my knees, and pulls me so my ass is almost hanging off the edge and my boot-clad ankles are resting on his shoulders. I’m completely and utterly exposed to him, and uncertainty fills me for a breath.

He lifts something, and in the dim light of the room, I see it’s the bottle of whiskey. Never dropping my gaze, he opens it and drops the cap.

Um . . . strange time for a drink?

He leans in close, and his breath teases my center. “I wasn’t done drinking earlier. So now I’m going to drink from this sweet little cunt and get drunk on you.”

Again his filthy words send shivers through me, and his meaning dawns in my lust-handicapped brain. He’s going to what?

I don’t have time to question, because within moments he tips the bottle. Chilly liquid hits me and trickles down . . . into his mouth. He catches the whiskey on his tongue, lapping up my wetness at the same time.

Oh my God. Oh my God.

Pleasure spikes through me as he sucks and nips and licks until I can’t help but lift my hips and buck against his mouth, wanting more and more of this sensation.

He stills, the liquid stops, and he lifts his mouth away.

“Wh—”

“You’re not going to come until I give you permission. I’m going to enjoy my dessert first.”

My nipples pucker, and arousal raises goose bumps along every inch of my skin.

“Okay,” I whisper. “Please don’t stop. Please.”

I don’t know who this senseless creature is who’s begging a man to keep pouring whiskey on her lady bits, but I honestly don’t care. I expect him to resume his actions, but he does something else, something completely unexpected.

He lowers the rim of the bottle to drag along my clit. The cool glass sends spikes of pleasure ripping through me.

He’s not going to . . . he wouldn’t . . . My imagination flies into a frenzy when he continues to drag the mouth of the bottle lower. And lower. It presses against my opening, but goes no further. He pulls the bottle away and presses it to his lips and drinks.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he sucks down the liquor, and my throat dries to dust. It seems he can read my every thought, because he lowers the whiskey and leans forward, pressing my legs toward my body.

The bottle hovers over my mouth.

“Open.”

He tilts it toward my lips, and I comply with his instructions in time for the whiskey to hit my tongue. I swallow until he stops the flow, and just when I’ve relaxed a fraction, he lowers again into his crouched position and a thick, blunt finger slides inside me without warning.