SPANKSgiving

“Kevin?” she asked, sitting on the arm of his chair. His hand tightened on the beer bottle he was holding, but he didn't say anything. And yet she couldn't read his expression. It was a combination of things and not all of them were clearly identifiable.

“Lose something?” he asked, finally breaking the silence. His voice held a tone of command and control and she found herself shivering. Something in her body began whimpering, some need she had acknowledged but never allowed to come to the surface. She stood, putting a little space between them.

“My phone. Did someone bring it here? Did they call?”

“No.”

He stood too, looming over her, their five inch height difference more than obvious right now. She shivered again as he drew himself up extra tall, his shoulders squared. There was something very different about Kevin right now, and it intrigued her as much as it turned her on.

Oh god, she was getting turned on. By Kevin!

Even though Gina knew this was nothing new and was to an extent very natural, panic began welling up inside her. It was one thing to be turned on by Kevin when she'd was tipsy and horny, but this was nothing like that.

“Who found my phone?” she asked, knowing her voice was shaking.

“Me.”

The word was an angry explosion of sound, and Gina shivered, wrapping her arms around her torso, partially from the panic and worry she was starting to feel, and partially to hide the aching nipples she knew had to be pressed against her shirt, the piercings probably visible.

“Oh um...is there a problem?” she asked, wincing. She sounded much younger than she'd intended, the little girl part of her popping its head out in response to his tone and...something else. God, she needed an appointment at Fire and Brimstone.

Now.

“Damn right there is,” Kevin replied, slamming his beer down on a side table so hard she wondered why he didn't break the bottle or the table. He grabbed her arm in a tight, punishing grip, his hand closing around her bicep, fingers resting against her nipple. Gina tried not to groan, but a sound that had to be partially that and a whimper emerged, despite how much she tried to control herself.

“Upstairs. My room.”

My room? HIS room? Her mind couldn't keep up with whatever the hell was happening, and she let him drag her upstairs, not even bothering to dig her feet in. Gina had a feeling that her resistance wouldn't mean a thing.