“What? I’m just relieving tension. It’s been a crappy couple of days.” She arched her hips toward his aching cock. “Don’t mind me, friend.”

Her swollen, saturated cunt brushed against his dick. A half-groan, half-growl tore from his throat.

When the hell had he ever wanted a woman even half this much?

Thorpe knew the answer. It wasn’t comforting.

“You’ve been incredibly naughty. Topping from the bottom. Self-pleasuring without permission. Lying to me.”

“Like you lied to me about merely being friends?” she challenged, brow raised. “What are you going to do about it?”

Damn it, Callie was asking for it. Begging. He slammed the bathroom door, enclosing them together in the tiny space. The move was risky, but the only way he could open the cabinet doors. Finally, he reached inside and fished out a bath towel, then wrapped it around her, covering some of her delectable nakedness. Not enough, obviously, because he still wanted to fuck her into next week, but this was the best he could do now.

Focusing on her freshly scrubbed face, he knotted the white terry cloth just above her breasts, then yanked on it. “Let’s go.”

She dug in her heels. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you get discipline.”

Thorpe lifted her and dragged her against his chest. Because Callie was Callie, she resisted him with everything she had, fighting like a hellcat. Against him, she smelled clean and womanly, and as he passed by the bed, he gnashed his teeth to keep from throwing her on the softly rumpled sheets and taking her in every way he knew how.

Instead, he dragged her toward the galley, fighting off her claws and kicks to the shin.

He squeezed her tight against his body. “You have a Dom who loves you and you’re taunting me to take something I shouldn’t.”

“It’s not like that. Stop manhandling me.” She gritted her teeth and squirmed for freedom, succeeding mostly in mashing her breasts to his chest.

Thorpe dug his fingers into her hair and tugged, stilling her. She was going to get the spanking she deserved. Maybe, if the gods looked down on him, Sean would let him dish it out. And if he was more sexually frustrated than indignant on the other man’s behalf, well . . . Callie didn’t need to know that.

Once they reached the galley, Thorpe tossed her into the room, trapping her between his body and the small faux wood table attached to the wall. In front of the utilitarian stove, Sean looked up with a spatula in his hand, now wearing trousers, and staring at them with a questioning expression.

“Callie needs discipline,” Thorpe spit out.

“Does she?”

He shoved down his frustration that he had to explain himself. Couldn’t they just get to the part where Sean tugged the towel off of Callie’s naked body and smacked her lush, damp ass with his hand so he could see her breasts sway and her face flush, watch the shock of the sting become unbearable arousal and . . .

Thorpe swallowed hard. “She tried to give herself an orgasm in the shower.”

Sean slanted his gaze to Callie, then back again. “Oh?”

“Yes, knowing full well that I watched her.” He closed in on her, trying not to notice how soft her damp body was or how well she fit against him.

He hoped to hell that he and Sean would fuck Callie soon. Maybe once would be enough to satisfy this clawing hunger bleeding his self-control dry. Maybe . . . but highly doubtful.

To his surprise, Sean merely looked down at whatever was in the pan in front of him and began working with his spatula.

“Don’t you get it?” Thorpe questioned indignantly. “Subs are not supposed to touch themselves without explicit permission.”

“I’m aware,” Sean said calmly, flipping over some egg concoction, not seeming at all ruffled.

“Callie was topping from the bottom, doing her damn best to entice me when she was supposed to be getting clean.”

“Hmm . . .” Sean mused, salting the omelet.

How could the fed not be pissed off at that? He’d never struck Thorpe as stupid, but suddenly he was rethinking Sean’s IQ.

Thorpe tossed his hands in the air. “She kept stroking herself even after I told her to stop. She completely disregarded me.”

Sean smiled faintly. “Minx.”

“And? We’ve got to be firm with her. She needs it or she’ll run all over us.” Thorpe felt ready to burst a blood vessel.

Sean reached for the pepper and shook some on top of the eggs. Thorpe had to restrain the urge to throw the pan against the fucking wall. How could Sean be so damn calm? If he wasn’t going to act, this co-topping crap was never going to work.

“Lovely?” Sean turned her way.

“Yes?” She sounded oddly quiet. In fact, it struck Thorpe as unusual that she hadn’t said a word since he’d dragged her into the galley.

“According to Thorpe, you need discipline quite badly.”

She bit into her plump lower lip, and Thorpe had to look away. Water dripped from her hair, down her pale, graceful shoulders, disappearing into the cleavage visible above her towel, now slowly unknotting and inching down her breasts.

“Yes, Sir,” she murmured.

Sean turned to look at him. “I can’t leave these eggs or they’ll burn. Thorpe, we’ve had this discussion. You’re more than equipped to give her whatever she needs while I finish up here. Then we’ll eat.”

Sean turned away, staring back into the pan. Callie blinked, then turned to look at him.

A thousand volts of electricity shot straight to Thorpe’s cock. He clenched his fists. “You want me to spank her again?”

“Whatever you think is proper punishment for her behavior. Once you’re done, I think you should give her that orgasm she sought. She probably needs the release, and I always like to see Callie in pleasure.”

Thorpe nearly choked on a thick lump of lust. Hadn’t the son of a bitch seen his erection through his trousers? He must have; it felt the size of Texas. Damn it, if he ripped that towel off Callie and put his hands anywhere on her, much less made her come, Thorpe wasn’t sure he could stop.

Where the hell was his self-control? His stare roved all over Callie, her damp skin, her dark tresses clinging, breasts half visible, and those blue eyes of hers wide and crushing his ability to think of anything except having her naked under him, clawing at his back, and begging for more.

“I can definitely do that, but let me be plain,” Thorpe said between gritted teeth, feeling way north of insane. “I want to fuck her.”

He didn’t dare meet Callie’s stare or he wouldn’t be responsible for what happened next.

“You made that clear last night.” Sean reached to open the microwave and insert a paper plate filled with bacon. “If you punish her now, we’ll deal with the rest later.”

Then Sean winked at the girl.

What the hell kind of Twilight Zone shit had this morning become? Whatever. It didn’t matter. Sean had agreed that her behavior needed correcting, so he’d fucking take care of it.

Thorpe sent Callie a hard grin that she would find impossible to interpret as comforting. “Fine. I’m all over this.”

“Glad to hear it. Breakfast should be ready in five.” Sean set a few pieces of bread into the toaster.

But Thorpe wasn’t listening anymore. He had a few precious minutes to put his hands all over Callie. He didn’t intend to waste even a second.

“Drop the towel. Every hesitation, bratty remark, or lapse in your manners is only going to make my discipline more unpleasant. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” Her eyes went soft and wide as her fingers loosened the towel.

The terry cloth unraveled from her body, slithering to the ground. And there Callie stood before him, her petite form shaking and blessedly bare. Need seized his insides. She belonged under his hands, his body, his command. He’d fought it for years. But as her gaze clung to him now, silently pleading for both his hard boundaries and his mercy, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted the right to touch the girl.

“On your knees, pet.” He’d dreamed of saying those words to her forever.

Slowly, gracefully, she knelt before him, her stare unwavering. Without a word, she pleaded. Her desire and anticipation were a punch to his gut.

Thorpe never took his eyes off her as he yanked a small chair from the little table and sat in it, leaning forward with elbows on his knees to drill her with a hard stare. He steadied himself with a deep breath, finding his balance and center. Knowing he had so few boundaries right now with Callie was immersing him in the most heady Dom space. One wicked idea after another raced through his head.

“Good. What I say will be absolute, Callie. No arguments. No questions. No comebacks. This isn’t a demo, and I’m no longer playing. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice sounded so breathy and acquiescent. Need seared itself on her face. This passionate Callie was the one he knew—and loved. The one he burned for.

He sat back in his chair and patted his thigh. “Sit on my lap.”

She rose. It wasn’t quick. Nor was it so slow that he could call it a hesitation, but close. Her lips parted and questions nearly tumbled forth. Callie stifled them. Instead of asking whatever she wanted to know, she merely perched her pretty bare ass on his thigh gingerly, then looked to him for reassurance.

“Yes, like that.” He swallowed back the command to kiss him, to tug down his zipper, to stroke his straining erection before she eased him into the blistering silk of her pussy. But all of that would be what he wanted—not what he’d been granted. Not what she needed. “Now turn to face Sean and put your legs on either side of my knees.”

Callie responded more quickly this time, rotating on his lap, then settling her back against his chest. Thorpe hissed in her ear as she rested her bare skin against his thin, damp shirt. He gripped her hips, barely restraining the urge to shove his cock against the ripe curves of her ass.

He widened the stance of his thighs, parting her legs at the same time. Sean looked up from the eggs, watching raptly. His face told Thorpe that he didn’t really give a shit if the eggs burned.

Settling his lips against her ear, he whispered, “Tilt your head back on my shoulder.”

Callie shivered, but she obeyed without pause. Her shaky little exhalation left him no doubt that his domination aroused her. Unable to resist anymore, he ground his dick into her pert backside, then caressed his way up her waist, her ribs, until he palmed her breasts and trapped her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, turning and tugging.

“You touched yourself to torment me. Didn’t you, Callie?”

“Yes, Sir.” Her breathy reply made his gut and his need tighten.

“Why, to taunt me with what I shouldn’t take or to seduce me?”

He felt her draw in a deep breath, then undulate on his lap, sending hot sensation skittering through him again. He tightened his grip on her nipples, and she gasped.

“Lovely?” Sean prodded.

“Both,” she admitted with a little cry. “I hated the thought that you wouldn’t show me whether you want me or not.”

“So you tried to corner me. Very naughty.” One hand left the soft curve of her breast.

“But—”

“Not a word.” His voice reverberated through the little room. “Running away, stripping in public, staying in hellholes, fighting me, frustrating me . . . You’ve done nothing to earn an orgasm.”

“Good point,” Sean conceded. “Scratch that off the list.”

She moaned in protest.

“You’ve earned this, pet.” Thorpe spanked the pad of her pussy with his fingers in a stinging blow that awakened and inflamed.

Callie gasped, arched, thrusting one breast deeper into his grasp. He gritted his teeth. She responded to him even more beautifully than he remembered, way beyond his wildest dreams. Despite her craving for tenderness, she seemed completely capable of taking the edgy side of his nature—and still asking for more. At the thought, what little blood remained in his body rushed to his cock until he felt staggered and dizzy.

Again, he lightly smacked her pussy enough to sting sweetly. And again. Each time, her folds plumped and slickened a bit more. He couldn’t miss the way her clit swelled and hardened. So he kept on.

“Please, Thorpe . . .” she panted.

“That’s Sir to you right now. And I promise, you’re going to beg, little girl. For my mercy and for the pleasure I can grant you . . . if I choose. Eventually.”

She shuddered, and Thorpe tried to hold it together, fighting the urge to bend her over the little table and work his way into her tight cunt until she’d taken every throbbing inch he had.