Descent (Black Heart Romance presents Heaven & Hell)

boobs spill out. Then he slides his massive palm over my bare flesh and squeezes each one. “It had to
be you,” he answers simply. “There’s no rational reason, but I saw you at the office Christmas party
with Jackson and you haven’t left my mind since.”
The Christmas party? That was so long ago, and I don’t remember ever meeting him. He’s not the
sort of man you forget.
I’m so distracted trying to remember seeing him that night, I’m caught off guard when he moves
and my position shifts with him. I almost ask what he’s doing, but before I can, he eases me down on
my tummy against the smooth leather.
My heart jumps to my throat as he unhooks his arm from around my neck and stands. MY tummy
somersaults as he starts to pull my metallic pink skirt down.
“Stop,” I say, twisting back against the couch cushion and attempting to shove his hand away.
“Please.”
It doesn’t work. He firmly pushes me back down on the couch, yanks up my skirt, and smacks my
ass so hard, a yelp slips out of me.
The sudden impact turns me red, and not just my ass in the spot he slapped. I can feel heat rising
to my face as he gives my skirt a firm yank and drags it off me.
He spanked me like an errant child.
No nonsense, no fuss. He doesn’t even seem mad now, just eager to get my panties off.
I know what happens if he gets my panties off, and even if rationally I know there’s little chance
of getting out of it, I want to so badly, I try anyway.
“Please,” I say, grabbing at my panties even as he tugs them lower. “Calvin, please. I’ll get you
off if you want me to. I’ll—I’ll let you use my mouth. Please, just not this.”
If he finds my offer interesting, I certainly can’t tell.
He climbs on the couch behind me. I’m naked below the waist now, so he gets on his knees and
positions himself between my spread thighs.
I try to close them, but he’s in the way.
I hear the thwip of his belt as he removes it, then his zipper as he pulls it down.
He can’t do this.
He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.
But as he pushes me down so my face is pressed against the leather, my palms braced on the
couch and my ass in the air, it seems inevitable that he can—and he will.