Tristan's Temptation by Sabrina York Page B

to her swelling nipples. Each smack sent a rush of heat racing through her.
    He paused every so often to caress her sweltering, sensitized buttocks. Her moans rose to cries and she pressed her clit against his hard thigh. Before long, she was undulating in mindless passion.
    “Is this what you wanted?” She loved his little grunt of exertion, his groans of pleasure as each smack fell. “Is this what you need?”
    “Yes,” she cried. “Yes.”
    “You like it when I smack your ass, don’t you?” He paused, once again, to fondle her burning flesh. “You know you do.”
    “Please.” She ached. She wanted.
    The delightful spanking continued but he shifted his angle lower, to the underside of her trembling ass. The sudden new pressure on her clit, pressing her harder against his thigh, was exquisite. Cream oozed from her pussy. She could feel it easing past her lips and dampening his jeans. She spread her legs wider and rubbed herself against the rough fabric.
    He groaned. “You are so wet.” He drew his fingers up and down over her slit, delving deeper with each pass. “God. You’re so wet.” He held her open with two fingers and edged deeper with a third. “Wider.” He nudged her hips higher. “I want to feel you.”
    She complied, spreading her legs as wide as they would go, but rather than easing into her pussy again, he smacked her again, right over her wet clit. She cried out as the first orgasm took her, turning to him with pleading eyes. She wanted him in her. Needed him.
    He was utterly unsympathetic. He reached around and yanked the neckline of her dress down. “Play with your nipples. Pinch them.” She did, whimpering as twin shots of agony and ecstasy rocketed through her.
    “Tristan,” she panted. “Please. Please.”
    “I’ll please you, all right.” He paddled her, five sharp smacks in a row. “Are you playing with your nipples?”
    “Yes,” she sobbed.
    “Does it feel good?”
    “Yes!”
    “Do you want more?”
    “Yes. Please.”
    He paused, resting his large, warm palm on her burning ass. His fingers twitched, as though the sensation was just as intense for him, as though he itched to caress her more. But something stopped him.
    Impatiently, she wiggled her ass, attempting to rub her clit against him.
    “Not just yet.” He tightened his hold against her gyrations, forcing her to still. “There’s something I would like to know.”
    “What?” she asked softly, and then more impatiently when he didn’t respond. “What?”
    He traced a line over her ass and made a gentle, teasing pass at her sopping pussy lips. He dandled lower, just barely brushing against her clit.
    Shannon cried out at the touch and sobbed for more. She was close. So close.
    “He said you were crazy about me. Is that true?”
    She stilled. Shuddered. Her breath caught in her throat. “What?”
    Heartlessly, he dabbed at her again and then hovered, just out of reach. “Is it true?”
    “Yes!” she cried.
    His fingers returned to their tormenting rhythm. “You’re crazy about me?”
    “Yes, Tristan. Yes.”
    “How long?”
    “What?”
    “How long have you been crazy about me?”
    Mortification washed through her. She couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t possibly admit the truth. Not now. Not like this.
    She didn’t answer. Instead she rubbed against his erection, attempting to tease him, to distract him. He hissed in response and pressed up against her as well. But the delightful sensation between her legs stopped. She groaned.
    “Touch me, Tristan. Please.”
    “You like it when I stroke your clit?” he asked, teasing her gently.
    “Yes. Yes.” She arched into him and knew bliss for a heartbeat before he cruelly pulled it away.
    “Then answer my question.”
    “I can’t.”
    “Why not?”
    “It’s too embarrassing.”
    The harsh smack on her ass caught her at unawares and she cried out with a jerk.
    “It’s not embarrassing to writhe on my lap begging for my touch? You know you want it. I