By the time he put down the spoon tears were rolling down my cheeks. Then just to mock me, I suppose, he laid the nasty thing on the seat of the couch, where if I opened my eyes, which I did, it would be the first thing I saw. One look at the hated thing and I shut my eyes.
While the tense moments ticked by, Patrick returned to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, which he downed in a single gulp, then he grabbed something from the countertop and returned to my side, yanking me back upright. My skirt instantly dropped to cover what was certain to be a very red behind, though his right hand remained, firmly clutching my right ass cheek. I didn’t dare move without his permission.
I expected him to find some suitable segue to take us into the rest of the night—the delicious smellin
