She stopped just inside the doorway and turned, her voice faltering a little as she saw the look on his face: “I… I want… I want you”, she said.
Matthew laughed softly, then kissed her hard on the mouth, all too briefly. He was amused that she had thought – even just for a few moments – that she was making the decisions.
He had planned a relaxed evening, thinking that she would need to be cuddled and taken care of. He knew now that he had underestimated her; that she had an appetite that he would enjoy trying to fulfil.
“You know that’s not how it goes”, he told her, his tone laced with sympathy.
“What do you mean?”, she asked.
“I mean”, he replied, his finger lifting her chin up a little, “that you wanting me to fuck your greedy pussy doesn’t mean I’m going to.”
Grace whimpered, and Matthew had the pleasure of seeing this woman – this professional, dominant, powerful woman – pouting because he wouldn’t give her his cock. He smiled in satisfaction, and when she opened her mouth to argue he silenced her with a serious look.
“Now, I want to see your bruises”, Matthew said. He indicated the edge of her dressing table: “Put your hands here, and stick your bottom out”, he ordered.
When Grace had obeyed he moved behind her then lifted her dress up around her waist, and pulled her knickers down around her knees. On each of her bottom cheeks were red and purple bruises – the evidence of the spanking she had received the day before. Gently, he placed one palm over one side of her bum and began to caress it. When Grace moaned and pushed back against his hand, he dug his fingers in painfully; turning her moan into a whimper.
Removing his hand from her bottom, Matthew reached between her legs, cupping her pussy and then chuckling as he felt her juices.
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