The Dare Collection January 2019. JC Harroway

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and took her hand, leading her down the short hallway from the front door and out into the lounge.

      The windows that gave the magnificent view of the Opera House were right in front of us, the slatted shutters that allowed me to shield my apartment from the sun or from the lights outside at night were open.

      Neon and starlight filled the room, dark bars of shadow crossing the pale wooden floor.

      Right in front of me was a sectional sofa covered in pale linen and I pulled Poppy over to it. Then I sat and tugged her down with me, arranging her so that her rounded ass was over my knees.

      ‘What’s—?’ she began.

      I put my hand on the back of her neck, pressing down lightly. ‘Keep still. I told you I was going to punish you.’

      Her breathing was loud in the sudden silence of the room. ‘How?’

      I didn’t answer. I wanted her to keep guessing, keep wondering. ‘You’ll find out. Remember your word?’

      ‘Yes.’

      Keeping one hand on her neck, I slid the other underneath her and found the button of her jeans. I flicked it open and pulled down the zip. Then I grabbed the waistband at the small of her back and jerked the denim down, taking her knickers with it, uncovering the golden-bronze skin of her bare butt.

      She shuddered and made a soft sound, muffled by the linen of the sofa cushions, but it wasn’t her word so I didn’t stop.

      My heart was beating hard in my chest, my cock aching, and yet I’d never felt so in control or so completely calm.

      Yes, she was mine. And I was going to punish her. For coming here when she shouldn’t. For demanding what she shouldn’t want. For tempting me. For making me want her so fucking badly.

      I trailed my fingertips over her ass then opened my palm, gathering her soft flesh into it and squeezing gently. She shivered. Her flesh was warm and when I squeezed I could feel her muscles tense. Soft. So fucking soft. I wanted to take a bite out of her. Maybe I would. Later.

      Right now there was something else I wanted to do.

      I lifted my hand and then brought it down on one butt cheek.

      Hard.

      She gasped aloud, her whole body jerking.

      I rubbed my thumb gently against the side of her neck, while with the other hand I stroked the butt cheek I’d just spanked. ‘Do you know why I’m doing this?’

      ‘Because... I’m bad.’ She was shaking in my lap, her whole body tense. And yet I didn’t think it was from the pain.

      ‘That’s right.’ I lifted my hand again. ‘I’m going to give you five strokes and you’ll count each one. If you want me to stop, you know what to say.’

      Before I brought my hand down I waited a second, listening for her word. But she didn’t say it so I let my palm fall, the sound against her soft flesh making a cracking sound in the room. She gasped again, jerking, but her voice, though breathless, was steady.

      ‘One.’

      I did it again and again, making her count the strokes, her skin getting hot beneath my palm, the sight of it reddening making my cock ache. And with each stroke her voice got more ragged, her gasps more like moans.

      This was wrong, of course, turning my stepsister over my knee and spanking her bare ass like there was no tomorrow.

      But she didn’t say her word and the moans she made weren’t of pain. At the fourth stroke she began to squirm restlessly, trying to rub herself against my thigh, and I had to squeeze the back of her neck tightly to keep her still.

      No matter how wrong this was, we were both enjoying the hell out of it. I felt in control and powerful, having her writhing in my lap, at my mercy. And knowing how much she was getting off on this was one hell of an aphrodisiac.

      I spanked her one last time and she groaned, her voice ragged as she murmured the count.

      Then I looked down, her bronzed skin a dusky red from my hand. Fuck, it was hot, looking at her fully dressed with her jeans and knickers pulled down. The sight made me harder than rock, my pulse going like a jackhammer in my head.

      I squeezed her, making her shudder, her hips lifting as if wanting more. ‘That’s my good girl,’ I murmured, allowing my fingers to trail over her butt and down, pushing between her butt cheeks, finding the taut ring of muscle there. ‘You took that well. If you’re lucky you might get a little something for yourself.’

      She groaned and I felt her muscles clench instinctively. I pushed my thumb a little harder against her, moving it in small circles, wanting to see how far she’d let me go, but she didn’t say her word. Instead she panted, squirming restlessly as I pushed.

      A primal kind of satisfaction gripped me hard and I toyed with her a little more before letting my fingers wander lower, between her thighs. Her pussy was slick and slippery, and when I began to explore her wet folds she gave a long, low moan, her body shaking.

      ‘You liked that, didn’t you?’ I eased one finger slowly inside her. ‘My bad girl liked getting spanked, hmm?’

      ‘Yes...’ She lifted her hips against my hand. ‘I did l-like it.’

      ‘And now this little pussy is all wet.’ I pushed in another finger, the slick, hot feel of her flesh tightening around it making my breath catch and my pulse hammer relentlessly. ‘What do you think I should do about that?’

      She moaned and twisted, trembling. Her hands clutched onto the cushions on either side of her head, her face turned against the pale linen. It was flushed, a sheen of perspiration on her forehead and top lip.

      I watched that lovely face as I eased my thumb between her butt cheeks, pressing against her ass once again.

      She groaned again, panting, her knuckles turning white.

      ‘I asked you a question,’ I reminded her quietly, pressing harder, watching her.

      ‘I think... God... I th-think you should m-make me come.’

      ‘Is that right?’ I pushed my thumb gently inside her, keeping my fingers buried deep in her pussy, watching her face and gauging her reactions to see what gave her the most pleasure. ‘Do you deserve it, I wonder?’

      She gave a soft cry, her features twisting in what looked like agony. But I knew it wasn’t agony. She was close to coming, so close now. The air was full of the delicate scent of her arousal, sweetened with jasmine, making me even harder.

      But I wanted to prolong the moment, to draw it out as long as possible, torture her with ecstasy as long as I could. Because right here, right now, between us there was nothing but honesty.

      No lies and no anger. None of the murky, complicated emotional undercurrents that had been part of our relationship for so many years.

      There was a purity in it. A rightness.

      I was in complete command of her and she wanted me to be.

      We

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