How to Punish Your Playboy (DommeNation #3) by Mina Vaughn Page B

His flecked hazel eyes worshipped me and I could barely control myself. My fingers itched to slide down those tight dress pants and slink up and down his toned thighs. Full lips, high cheekbones, and fucking gorgeous neck, god, he was beautiful. I felt my body clench tightly as I opened his shirt wider. He leaned back and exhaled with a barely audible moan. I slid my tongue across his collarbone before picking out my tool of choice.
    I crossed the room, grabbed an oar that had broken in half, and held it in my hand. Broad and hard. It would make a very good paddle. I unbuckled Aston’s belt and unzipped his pants, running my fingers down the hollows of his hips.
    “Ahh,” he exhaled.
    “Stop making noises, or I’ll gag you again,” I said, and slid his pants to his ankles, taking time to appreciate his fine form. This was punishment, after all, and I wanted to take my sweet time. I left his tight, black boxer briefs on. For now.
    “With what? You’re not wearing any underwear, since I watched that entire little show in your apartment very closely,” he joked.
    I slapped the oar against the palm of my hand and it made a loud smack. I had to judge how hard to hit. I didn’t want to seem like a softie, but I had no idea how hard to actually hit. He didn’t jump or flinch, but simply waited.
    Aston was much better at this than I had imagined.
    “This may hurt a little, so would you like something to bite down on?” I asked.
    He shook his head no.
    “I’m going to teach you some safewords, and they’re exactly like the terms we use for driving. If you say green, that means go. Yellow is a warning that it’s going too far, slow down. Red means stop. Play ends.” I worried about how hard to hit him, and my own pulse quickened with fear and desire. “The first few times I hit, give me a color. I need to know.”
    He nodded. “Yes, Mistress. Green, please.”
    I ran my fingers up and down the outside of his thigh and brought the paddle against his skin with a thwack.
    He gulped for a moment and smiled. “Green.”
    I smacked again, worried I couldn’t send him surges of euphoria, and was taken aback by his reaction.
    He was feeling euphoric already. “Green,” he repeated. His eyes were half-hidden by his bangs, as he tossed his head back, relishing in this new form of abandon.
    What a surprise.
    “Two more big ones. Can you handle it?”
    “Yes, Mistress,” he said, chest heaving. The sight of him panting, tied to an anchor, rippling chest exposed, was almost enough to make me stop now and absolutely ravish him.
    “Count with me,” I commanded, and hit him across the thighs again.
    “One,” he moaned with a heavenly smile.
    “Two,” he exhaled again when the paddle smacked for the last time.
    I ran my fingers up and down his legs again and he squirmed against my touch, bucking, pleading with his body for my hands to go higher.
    “Patience,” I whispered, unknotting the rope on his left wrist.
    He looked at me in confusion. “You’re untying me, Mistress? Did I—”
    “I need your hands to unzip my dress, Aston,” I answered, and stepped forward. With the skill of an expert, I unraveled the rope from his wrists and freed him from the anchor.
    He exhaled, and I smelled champagne on his lips. I opened my mouth for a kiss, but gently bit his bottom lip first.
    He groaned with the ferocity of a growl and with the compliance of a whimper.
    Now it was time to give Aston a proper kiss.
    I wanted to be the kind of girl who led with her tongue. A first kiss should relay all your intentions at once, and for me, right now, I had to tell him I wanted it wet and hard. I pulled his head forward with my hands and brought his open mouth to mine, slinking my tongue between his soft lips. His tongue found mine with ease, and again I felt his body tense and soften at once—he gave in to me so easily. I ran my hands down his long neck and scraped his chest with my nails on the way down to his boxers.
    “Please,