im and line up my shot. It’s impossible. He
caresses my behind, over and over again.
“Top left,” I murmur, then hit the white ball. He smacks
me hard, squarely on my backside.
It’s so unexpected, I yelp. The white hits the black,
which bounces off the cushion wide of the pocket.
Christian caresses my behind again.
“Oh, I think you need to try that again,” he whispers.
“You should concentrate, Anastasia.”
I am panting now, excited by this game. He strolls to
the end of the table, sets up the black ball again, then runs
the white ball back down to me. He looks so carnal, dark
eyed with a lascivious smile. How could I ever resist this
man? I catch the ball and line it up, ready to strike again.
“Uh-uh,” he admonishes. “Just wait.” Oh, he just loves
prolonging the agony. He wanders back and stands behind
prolonging the agony. He wanders back and stands behind
me again. I close my eyes once more as he strokes my left
thigh this time then fondles my backside again.
“Take aim,” he breathes.
I can’t help my moan as desire twists and turns inside
me. And I try, really try, to think about where I should hit
the black with the white. I shift slightly to my right, and he
follows me. I bend over the table once more. Using every
last vestige of inner strength—which has diminished
considerably since I know what will happen once I strike
the white ball—I take aim and hit the white again. Christian
smacks me once more, hard.
Ow! I miss again. “Oh no!” I groan.
“Once more, baby. And if you miss this time, I’m really
going to let you ha一ve it.”
What? Ha一ve what?
He sets up the black ball once more and walks,
achingly slow, back to me until he’s standing behind me,
caressing my backside once more.
“You can do it,” he coaxes.
Oh—not when you’re distracting me like this. I
push my behind back against his hand, and he smacks me
lightly.
“Eager, Miss Steele?” he murmurs.
Yes. I want you.
“Well, let’s get rid of these.” He gently slides my
panties down my thighs and off. I can’t see what he
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