Chapter 28: 🌶️🌶️ No turning back

My hand stays clenched around the doorknob, my heart pounding too fast, the air too thick, too heavy. I don’t want to think anymore—I can’t. Every rational thought vanished the second I read her message.

One last moment of hesitation.

And then, under my breath—just for myself, like a final kick in the ass:

Me: “Fuck it. Stop thinking, just go.” I press down on the handle and step inside.

The light is dim, the room wrapped in a soft, muted glow. The faint scent of shower gel still lingers in the air.

And she’s there.

Sitting on her bed, one leg tucked under her, her phone resting beside her. A t-shirt way too damn big for my liking, and nothing but a pair of panties hugging her hips.

My eyes drop, instinctively tracing every detail, every curve, every inch of bare skin laid out in front of me.

I stop myself from exhaling.

Fuck.

She finally looks up at me.

Her gaze is calm. Her face, too serious.

Emma: “Uh ... do you need something?” What?!

I blink, thrown off.

She looks at me like I just stumbled in here by accident, like she has no clue why I’m standing in her room. My brain short-circuits for half a second.

And then—

Emma: “Pffft—” A half-smothered laugh slips past her lips, caught between a muffled breath and a teasing snicker.

I narrow my eyes.

Me: “That’s funny to you?” She keeps smiling, like she’s waiting for me to react.

Fuck.

She’s messing with me.

My body moves before my brain even catches up. I step forward, fast, my eyes locked onto hers. And for a split second, her smile falters—just before my hands close around her hips.

Emma: “Hey—” Too late.

I yank her toward me, pulling her off balance. A small gasp escapes her as she falls forward, landing across my lap—her stomach against my thighs.

Her t-shirt rides up slightly from the motion.

She tenses instinctively, her breath short—finally realizing she’s lost control.

I lean in slightly, my hot breath grazing her ear, my hand slowly sliding over the curve of her ass, barely covered by her panties.

Me: “You really do need a lesson, Emma.” My heart pounds like a fucking drum, my breathing deep, sharp.

And this time—she’s not laughing.

SLAP!

My hand comes down hard on her ass, the sound cracking through the room—sharp, precise.

Emma flinches slightly, her body tensing, but she doesn’t say a word. Just a quick breath, a barely-there shiver.

I leave my palm pressed against her skin, feeling the heat rise beneath my fingers—the softness contrasting with the lingering sting.

Emma: “That’s it...? I thought this was supposed to be a punishment, Brice.” Her voice is low, almost teasing—but her breath gives away something else.

Fuck. She’s still pushing me.

A shiver rips through me, my stomach clenching hard. I want to laugh, I want to growl—I mostly just want to give her exactly what she’s asking for.

Me: “Fuck, Emma...” SLAP!

My hand comes down again, sharper this time.

Emma: “Hnnn...” A small sound escapes her—quick, muffled. Fuck. My jaw clenches instantly, my cock hardening beneath her. That fucking sound...

I run my hand over her skin, fingertips grazing the perfect curve of her ass, feeling the heat, the softness. It’s burning. It’s addictive.

We’re fucked up.

But I don’t want to stop.

I lift my hand, letting it hover just above her. Her body tenses slightly—waiting for it.

SLAP!

This time, it’s harder.

The sound cracks even louder through the room, and Emma lets out a longer, more distinct moan.

Emma: “Hnnn ... Mmhh...” Fuck.

My throat is dry, my breathing sharp. My thumb glides over the red mark blooming on her skin, tracing a slow caress—and all it does is make me want to do it again. Harder.

Me: “You’re really gonna push me to the edge, huh...?” SLAP!

Another sharp crack fills the room.

Emma gasps, her hip jerking from the impact, and this time, her moan is deeper, rawer.

Emma: “Mmmhhhh!” I freeze for a second, my fingers brushing against her heated skin, still tingling from my own touch.

Beneath me, Emma shifts—slowly. Her back arches, her hips subtly tilting back, like it’s just a natural movement.

But fuck, it’s not.

She’s arching on purpose.

My breath catches for a fraction of a second, my hands—already on her—following the motion instinctively.

My fingers glide over the warm flesh of her ass, tracing every curve, every inch she’s offering me. Soft. Firm. Addictive.

I squeeze her slowly, exploring without rushing, owning her with just my fingertips.

Emma doesn’t move.

She doesn’t say a word.

But I feel it—her breath, just a little shorter. Her body, responding beneath my hands.

My thumbs drift lower, inching toward the space between her thighs, testing the give of her skin. A shiver runs through her when I part her slightly—just enough to glimpse that forbidden spot, just enough to crank the tension even higher.

Fuck.

My cock throbs, painfully tight against my pants. Every part of me screams that I should stop, that I’m already too far gone, that I’m playing with something way too fucking dangerous.

But I can’t stop. I want to enjoy this. My grip tightens, fingers sinking a little deeper into her flesh, testing the softness under my hold.

That’s when she finally speaks.

Emma: “You seem to be enjoying the view...” Her voice is soft, teasing—but there’s tension beneath it. This isn’t just some casual provocation, this isn’t just a game.

She’s just as caught up in this as I am. She just hides it better.

A smirk tugs at my lips as my grip on her tightens, fingers kneading her harder.

Me: “And you seem to be enjoying this...” She shivers, her back arching even more—pushing me, testing me, seeing just how far I’ll go.

But before I can push further, she moves, slipping free from my hands.

My gaze drops instantly.

Her oversized t-shirt shifts slightly, sliding off her shoulder, revealing the curve of her hip.

But that’s not what freezes me in place.

It’s her eyes.

She’s not looking at me.

She’s staring at my crotch.

At my hard-on.

Emma: “You seem a little tense...” Her voice is lower, almost playful—but there’s something else laced in it.

Something hotter.

Then, slowly—like she’s twisting the knife just a little deeper—she slides a hand over her own ass, gently stroking the skin I just marked.

My stomach clenches hard.

Fuck...

Emma: “So ... are you done punishing me?” She knows.

She knows exactly what she’s doing, exactly where she’s leading me.

My hand drifts down to my pants, palm grazing my aching hard-on, almost unconsciously—just a reflex.

I’m wound so fucking tight.

I stare at her, breathing heavier, jaw locked with the burning frustration twisting in my gut.