"Stop the car," he states, raising two fingers to the driver, who closes the dividing screen while the vehicle rolls to a stop. I take shallow breaths as he frowns at me, his gaze feverish, not only angry, but hot with warning. "Take your shorts off. Lay over my knees." With a shaky hand, I sweep a piece of hair from my face. "What?" He taps his thigh. "Underwear. Face down. Over my knees. There is no denying the gravity in his fixed blue stare—an icy haul, nearly palpable as it demands I comply. My body buzzes with adrenaline, never having been spanked. Not once. I actually, kind of—fuck,
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