Excerpt from 'Sugar Princess'
Misha:
I shoot forward, wrap my arms around her waist and yank her to me, falling on my back with the girl on top of me. The air is slammed out of my lungs, and I gasp as I twist us around until I have her pinned beneath me. There is no stopping her struggles. I need to change tactics or I’ll have to use a lot more force than I want to. I have no intention of hurting Miss Ellerbrock. I don’t know why I’ve been so obsessed with her, but spanking her in that office, smelling the excitement all over her, has rendered me sleepless since.
Squeezing her throat, more as a warning than to cut off her breathing, I put my mouth to her ear. “Calm down, little one. I don’t want to hurt you, girl.”
She freezes, her breaths come as short gasps. “What?”
Realizing I spoke to her in my mother tongue, I dare to free one arm and push some of the blonde locks off her cheek so I can catch her gaze. Huge blue eyes stare at me, frightened. Understandably. Sadly. That’s who I am, all I have ever been, the cruel enforcer.
“Come on, get up. Stop fighting me.” I push up and jump to my feet, offering her my hand.
She’s still flat on her belly, eyeing my hand, the door behind me. She moves faster than I expect, kicking out her foot, hitting my legs.
Russian has many more colorful curses than English, and a long string of them passes my lips as I pounce on her. “You are begging for trouble!” I straddle her and push up her arms against her back, circling her wrists with one hand while I bear down the other on her delicious full ass.
Smack. “Stop.” Smack. “Fighting.” Smack. “Me.”
She hollers and tries to get loose, but I have her now, perfectly bundled up beneath me, and I’m going nowhere. Everything about her screams of loneliness, and of the need for a firm hand. Everything about her invites me in. She is chaos. I am order. She is fiery embers. I am permafrost.
“Please! What do you want?”
“Who am I?”
“I don’t know!” she yells.
“What do you need?”
She squirms, but only manages to trap herself tighter between my thighs. My cock is unapologetically hard, twitching, weeping to be freed of its restraints. It would be so easy to put my hand between her legs, coax her ready for me, make her shake with reluctant need before I pull down her pristine white cotton panties and bury myself to the hilt in her pussy.
Her face is flushed, she’s still fighting. “I need you to get off me.”
“No. That’s not what you need. You need some order back into your life.”
“What are you talking about? Get off me! You’re heavy!”
“Look at this place, Miss Ellerbrock. Look at the state you’re in. Look at the mess in the kitchen.” I lean in and catch her gaze, then I turn my head to look at the floor under a chair that stands before us. “And look at the size of… what do you call it? Dust bunnies? And you haven’t taken care of your business for three days.”
“You’re not my daddy!”
I tut. The sound makes her flinch slightly. “But you are in desperate need of one.” I slide a hand past her hip, down along the delicious curvature of her bottom, where warm skin meets my fingers. The girl trembles, holds her breath, and waits. She knows what’s coming. I feel it in my bones. She waits, wants, needs, just as much as I do. I raise my arm and then bear down on her ass. She squeals.
“Aren’t you?”
“No!”
I slap her again, just hard enough to sting and leave a quickly fading blush. “Tell me you need a Daddy.”
“Never.”
She jerks and screeches, trying to get me off her. I smack her again.
“Tell me you want me to take care of you.”
“No!”
My palm connects with the naked skin on her ass, a tad harder than before.
“You have no control over your business. You’re on the edge of ruin. You live in a pigsty. Your father’s house is owned by another man. Tell me again you don’t need me.”
“I—I don’t need you, you--pervert!”
I remind her with a firm smack of the consequences of being mouthy with me. She gasps and then grits her teeth.
“I am going to take care of you, Carrie Ellerbrock. I’m going to free you. But there will be a price.”
Squeezing her throat, more as a warning than to cut off her breathing, I put my mouth to her ear. “Calm down, little one. I don’t want to hurt you, girl.”
She freezes, her breaths come as short gasps. “What?”
Realizing I spoke to her in my mother tongue, I dare to free one arm and push some of the blonde locks off her cheek so I can catch her gaze. Huge blue eyes stare at me, frightened. Understandably. Sadly. That’s who I am, all I have ever been, the cruel enforcer.
“Come on, get up. Stop fighting me.” I push up and jump to my feet, offering her my hand.
She’s still flat on her belly, eyeing my hand, the door behind me. She moves faster than I expect, kicking out her foot, hitting my legs.
Russian has many more colorful curses than English, and a long string of them passes my lips as I pounce on her. “You are begging for trouble!” I straddle her and push up her arms against her back, circling her wrists with one hand while I bear down the other on her delicious full ass.
Smack. “Stop.” Smack. “Fighting.” Smack. “Me.”
She hollers and tries to get loose, but I have her now, perfectly bundled up beneath me, and I’m going nowhere. Everything about her screams of loneliness, and of the need for a firm hand. Everything about her invites me in. She is chaos. I am order. She is fiery embers. I am permafrost.
“Please! What do you want?”
“Who am I?”
“I don’t know!” she yells.
“What do you need?”
She squirms, but only manages to trap herself tighter between my thighs. My cock is unapologetically hard, twitching, weeping to be freed of its restraints. It would be so easy to put my hand between her legs, coax her ready for me, make her shake with reluctant need before I pull down her pristine white cotton panties and bury myself to the hilt in her pussy.
Her face is flushed, she’s still fighting. “I need you to get off me.”
“No. That’s not what you need. You need some order back into your life.”
“What are you talking about? Get off me! You’re heavy!”
“Look at this place, Miss Ellerbrock. Look at the state you’re in. Look at the mess in the kitchen.” I lean in and catch her gaze, then I turn my head to look at the floor under a chair that stands before us. “And look at the size of… what do you call it? Dust bunnies? And you haven’t taken care of your business for three days.”
“You’re not my daddy!”
I tut. The sound makes her flinch slightly. “But you are in desperate need of one.” I slide a hand past her hip, down along the delicious curvature of her bottom, where warm skin meets my fingers. The girl trembles, holds her breath, and waits. She knows what’s coming. I feel it in my bones. She waits, wants, needs, just as much as I do. I raise my arm and then bear down on her ass. She squeals.
“Aren’t you?”
“No!”
I slap her again, just hard enough to sting and leave a quickly fading blush. “Tell me you need a Daddy.”
“Never.”
She jerks and screeches, trying to get me off her. I smack her again.
“Tell me you want me to take care of you.”
“No!”
My palm connects with the naked skin on her ass, a tad harder than before.
“You have no control over your business. You’re on the edge of ruin. You live in a pigsty. Your father’s house is owned by another man. Tell me again you don’t need me.”
“I—I don’t need you, you--pervert!”
I remind her with a firm smack of the consequences of being mouthy with me. She gasps and then grits her teeth.
“I am going to take care of you, Carrie Ellerbrock. I’m going to free you. But there will be a price.”