Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

This one, apparently.
He’s an evil genius.
As I move closer to him, the brush grows warmer in my
hand, like it’s alive. It’s wooden, with an oversized, flat
rectangular top, made to handle thick hair like mine.
It’s basically a paddle.
I stop slightly behind him and to one side. I’ve got a
magnificent view of his body, all those tattoos and bulging
muscles. Semihard, his thick cock rests against his thigh.
When I lick my lips in agitation, he says gruffly, “Go to
ten. I’ll count out loud.”
Ten punishing smacks against his naked ass while he’s
counting them off in that hot, rough voice of his…
It’s a Christmas miracle.
He watches me over his shoulder. His breathing has
increased. The air in the room feels warm and dangerously
charged, like a single spark could set off a gigantic explosion.
“Dammit, Natalie. Do it!”
He must’ve known that snapped command would piss me
off, because when my hand flies and the brush connects with
his skin with a crack! he makes a satisfied grunt, as if he just
won a bet with himself.
Laughter in his voice, he says, “One.”
I grit my teeth and let my hand fly again. “You smug—”
Crack!
“—bossy—”
Crack!
“—overbearing—”
Crack!
“—cocky—”
Crack!