Judge Me, Abby Knox [i love reading txt] 📗

I hardly care what anyone thinks except for Phillip. I wanted to see if I could get a rise out of him. Judging by the red flush above his fussy, buttoned-down collar and the tent in his trousers, I’d say I succeeded.

The eye contact between Phillip and I continues through the tasting, but all I hear is “something-something, dry, something-something, over-proved.”

Oh my heavens, he is livid.

I lazily saunter back to my workstation, swinging my hips exaggeratedly, and wait for the winner to be announced. Of course, it’s the saffron-infused light-up bread carousel. I smile at the contestant named Daisy and think, Show-off.

“Sorry, you didn’t follow the brief, did you?” another contestant comments to me as we’re cleaning up after shooting. Smirking to myself, I think I’m less interested in briefs as I am in Phillip’s boxers.

I don’t notice Phillip stalking toward me as I continue to crack myself up. Not until he’s almost on top of me. I jump as his voice rumbles in my ear from behind. “East wing. Take the second-floor hallway to my private quarters. Now.”

I turn to look at him and whisper, “I missed the orientation tour, remember? I don’t know where that is!”

He grunts in frustration. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

I hardly know what he’s expecting, but I quickly finish tidying up my station and head in a general eastern direction, away from the guest quarters.

Phillip is waiting for me in a dark corner and pulls me into an obliging nook, his eyes blazing.

“I wasn’t sure what you meant by my first time being special, but if it’s angry hallway sex you want, let’s do this, big boy.”

He turns me abruptly to face him square on, his jaw clicking, his eyes blazing. “Would you just…just…”

The poor man has gone nonverbal. Oh dear. What have I done?

“Just…shush.” He crashes his mouth against mine. Hallelujah. Finally. It’s been a long day.

His kiss marks me with passion, frustration, and hunger. His mouth and tongue claim me; his fingers own me as they dig into my hips. The slight pinch spikes my lust for this red-faced, frustrated man. I try and try to kiss him back, but he’s having none of it. He only wants to overpower, to take, to feed himself with me. The way Phillip unleashes his strength against my small frame, I could bend back under the force of his kiss, and I would beg for more.

Abruptly, he stops and pulls me down the hallway. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going where bad girls go.”

Holy shit.

He opens a heavy wooden door, swiftly drags me inside, then turns and locks the door behind him. He’s already rolling up his shirtsleeves to reveal his brawny forearms when he turns to face me. “Pick your paddle.”

I follow his gaze to the array of what looks like ping-pong paddles lined up on the sofa. “What?”

“This is the thing that I need to do right now. This is what I was trying to tell you about last night. If you can’t handle it—”

The realization dawns on me. “Oh!”

A vein in his forehead tells me I should waste no time with questions. I study the array of paddles. Some are leather. Some have feathers. “I’m going to be spanked?”

“Only if you agree to it.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Only if you want it to.”

“Where?”

He answers more questions, and I’m satisfied. I trust him. “You pick,” I say.

“Very well. We’ll start small.” Phillip picks up a pink-handled paddle.

“Bend over and lift your skirt.”

I suck in a breath. “And then…the bed?”

“No,” he says. “Right now, all I want to do is fuck you. That’s a very different thing. But I’m not going to fuck you or make love to you until this blasted contest is over.”

“But why?”

“Because today, you’ve been a naughty girl.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Phillip strokes my hair and says, “You’ve still got some flour on your cheek.”

“Guess I’m messy, too. Whatever are you going to do with me?”

The growl deep in his chest seems to make the whole room vibrate, and I feel it between my thighs. His voice is low and lethally quiet. “Bend over. Lift that skirt. And keep your hands on the sofa.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, my breath shaky.

I do as he says, bending over and flipping the pleated skirt up. The air is chilly against my bare flesh.

Phillip blurts out a curse when he sees what’s underneath.

“What happened to your fucking knickers!?”

My palms sweat as I grip the leather sofa and gaze at him over my shoulder. “Silly me. I must have taken them off somewhere along the way.”

“Chloe. Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with fire?”

He grips the handle of the wooden paddle with white knuckles.

“Of course, darling,” I say, imitating his accent.

The paddle clatters to the floor, echoing off the walls. Finally, he’s giving in.

Whack!

The sting of his bare hand against my fleshy bottom catches me off guard, and I yelp in surprise. “Oh!” The slight pain dissipates into warm prickles. “No paddle?”

“Sometimes the only thing that can make my point…” Whack! Another slight sting, followed by more tingles of pleasure spreading across my bare skin. “Is my hand.”

I rest my forehead on my arms, catching my breath, deciding whether I like this. Judging by my body’s reaction? Oh god. Yes, yes, I do enjoy a little spanking. Who could have guessed?

Again, I turn back to look at him, this time pretending I have a tail and wag my tush. “I don’t know, honey. I can think of other limbs that might like to have a turn making a point.”

Whack! Whack! Phillip spanks me twice, quickly, once on each cheek. “Dirty girl.”

The stings pass more quickly this time, and something strange and pleasurable begins to tug at my insides. My nipples harden and ache to be free of these clothes; my lips throb to be kissed; my pussy begs to be filled. A tear forms in the corner of my eye, but it’s not the pain. It’s the torture