Page 153 of Pink Ink

I wind her long hair around my fist. My other hand burns an achingly slow path from the back of her calves, curving into the dip between herthighs, up to her apex, where the cotton fabric darkens more with every second I leave her wanting.

A shuddered breath leaves her when I force her attention forward so she has to assume my movements by sound and touch alone. I brush her thighs before ghosting a touch over the back of her knees. The smallest whimper has me grinning, and I repeat the motion, sliding a finger against her pussy before running it down the back of her leg again.

When I have her squirming and shifting her hips, I bring my hand down on her supple skin, leaving another pink mark on her flesh. Reyna throws her head back as she cries out, pressing her legs together.

I do it three more times for good measure.

“Apologize,” I demand.

“No.”

It’s her funeral.

My movements are languid, traveling back down the curve of her legs to her calves, imprinting every inch of her delectable body into memory as precome leaks from my cock.

Every exhale is breathy and strained, and I take that as the perfect time to change tactics, brushing over her weeping center each time I make it back to the top. I run my knuckles over her clit three times, then back down to her calves. When she—I—grow more desperate, I trace the line of her underwear, edging beneath the saturated fabric in a cruel tease.

If I don’t sink inside of her soon, I’m going to lose my mind.

Her panties are completely soaked. She’s hiccuping and pushing her hips against my fingers every time I come near her sex. Reyna could put us both out of our misery by saying one measly word. Yet here we are, both paying the price for her stubbornness.

The next slap comes out the hardest. She screams, breathing roughly through her nose.

I push her panties to the side to finally see what her pussy is doing for me.

I tsk, brushing the tip of my finger over her swollen flesh, and she bucks. Oh the poor thing is fucking dripping.

She whimpers as I knead her ass to undo all the hurt, only to bring it back, absolutely, utterly bloody mesmerized by the moisture seeping from her cunt and down her inner thighs.

My hand collides with her flesh four more times, alternating between each cheek before she finally says the two simple words I want to hear.

“I’m sorry,” she cries, shaking like a leaf.

I lean over and pull her head back to see her delicate face. “Good girl,” I praise, getting hit with another wave of desire when her lips part on a silent moan. “Now say,I’m sorry, Mr. Shaw. I won’t do it again.”

Her eyes snap open as she tries to twist around to look at me. It’s thrilling watching her anger dissipate the second I slip a finger inside her. Three strokes is all she gets before I withdraw, and her anger returns tenfold. Reyna gnashes her teeth and fruitlessly attempts to throw me off.

So I do it again.

Her anger washes away, then comes right back with a vengeance. Over and over, I bring her closer to the edge only to leave her vibrating with rage.

“Fuck you,” she snarls when I pull my fingers out again.

“Say it.”

“Maddox.”

She begs so pretty.

“Say it.”I rub her clit through her panties, and she thrashes against my grip in her hair.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Shaw. I won’t call you anassholeagain.” She enunciates the word.

I smile down at her.

That’s my girl.

I let go of Reyna and take several steps back. She frowns, pauses for a moment, hands still bound together in front of her, then whips her head toward me, otherwise staying exactly where I left her. “What the fuck?”