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Taking in Dani by Kara Kelley – Extended Preview

“No one speaks to me like you have and gets away with it, Miss Torkaz.”

“No one that acts like he’s better than everyone else deserves respect,” I blurt. I have never been very good at holding my tongue, and although there’s truth to my words, they feel less true than they should. Right now, Adam can do no wrong and what he’s doing is so right, it hurts. He laughs mordantly and grabs my arms.

“You’ll apologize for that and everything else; I promise you that.”

I struggle for him to release my arms, but I only succeed in landing on the bed.

“Up you get, missy,” he says with a wagging finger. “I think what you need is to be taught a lesson—one you’ll remember every time we’re in the elevator, and you consider stepping on my shoes just to make my day a little less—” he pauses, a knowing smile spreading on his handsome face, “—shiny.” My chin drops a little. He must know I call him Shiny-shoes Fiori, but how? And again, as if he can read my mind, he nods.

“Yes, that’s right. I know what you’ve been saying behind my back all these years, young lady.” He steps back and takes his suit jacket off. Taking his time, he watches me while he hangs it in the closet. “Do you think name-calling is proper behavior for an adult?” he asks, removing the cufflinks of his dress shirt. It’s crisp still, in the middle of the afternoon. He rolls the sleeves up until they reach his elbows and then places his hands on his hips. “Well?” Oh, he’s waiting for me to answer.

“Um, what?” I say, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth as I suddenly realize I haven’t been following the conversation fully. I fight to recollect what he was saying. “Oh! No,” I stammer. “Name-calling is not proper adult behavior,” I answer.

He starts to pace a little. His movements make me picture him in court. The way he moves and gestures with ease, his every motion purposeful but comfortable.

“Miss Torkaz, it is my opinion,” he smiles, looking me in the eye. It’s a silly smile, easing my nerves. “And mine is the one that matters in this situation.” He continues. “The only reasonable way of dealing with your transgressions is to spank you.”

I want to laugh, except I don’t. I gulp. His words do things to me—things that are not funny at all.

“I see,” I say, without expression. What am I supposed to say? He’s waiting expectantly for me to say something. “And if I don’t agree?”

“Although there are many things I can do to convince you to agree, I’m simply going to tell you it’s for your own good. You were not alone in the elevator when you spoke unflatteringly about me, were you?”

I shake my head, feeling guilty. Damn, he’s good. No wonder he has his own firm. The ‘for your own good’ is really what wins me over, though. There’s something about being told that, that makes it more reasonable. He isn’t going to spank me for his enjoyment; he’s going to do it for me. For me.

“Okay,” I say and swallow hard.

“Good girl.” He walks to the red leather storage bench and sits. “Come here.”

I hesitate only a millisecond before I walk to him rather clumsily on gelatin legs. The nervous anticipation makes my heart palpitate. I fumble a bit, feeling embarrassed at my awkwardness.

I have no clue what to expect. I know what being spanked is like in my head, but I have no idea what reality holds.

“Have you ever been spanked before, Daniela? A parent, a teacher, a nanny maybe?” he asks as I make my way to him. I shake my head slowly. I want to tell him there was no one—that I was just like the little girl he abandoned. My mother chose drugs. She chose drugs over us and when the courts stepped in she refused to let us be adopted. A life of foster home hopping was our sentence.

“No.” I stand in front of him. He pats my thigh beneath my hip and reaches with both hands for my waist. His thumbs slide into the stretchy material, and I hold my breath as he lowers my pants. My face heats at the exposure. I want to cover myself but the warmth hasn’t just found my face. My core burns hotter than any embarrassment. I’m standing before him in my plain white panties with my yoga pants just above my knees. His eyes are level with my breasts, which are heaving under my shirt. He guides me to his side, which is awkward with my lowered pants. He reaches up and takes my arm.

“Over you go,” he says and gently assists me to lie across his thighs. My hands fly out, but he tucks me tightly against him and tells me he’s got me. His words do a fluttery thing to my stomach. I feel vulnerable and yet safe.

“Since this is your first spanking, we’ll play it by ear.”

“Okay,” I answer but then shake my head. “What do you mean?” I squeak. I shouldn’t agree to things I don’t understand.

“I mean I’ll see how well you take it before deciding to bring out any implements.” Implements? My heart beats faster, and there is another pulse of heat and moisture between my thighs. A God-damned gush is more like it!

“What the hell do you mean implements?” I ask, my voice cracking. He just chuckles, and I swallow hard.

“Oh, Daniela, a naughty girl like you deserves the belt, but I’m a reasonable man.”

I almost snort, but think better of it at the last second.


As his hand comes to rest on my bottom, I can feel the warmth of it through my panties—my plain white, non-sexy, born-again-virgin panties. He moves his palm around, rubbing. It’s so intimate I feel as if I can’t get any hotter—if I do, I’ll seriously start spurting flames. Does he have any clue how turned on I am? The way his big palm is gently circling my cheeks makes my insides swirl. Can he sense that he’s almost dehydrating me?

His hand leaves my backside, and while I’m considering the cool patch left in its wake, it comes back with a sharp biting spank. I yip just from surprise, but before I can even completely register the full sting, another clap resounds. It’s not as bad as I expect but it still stings and the place where his fingers have hit bare skin at the edges of my panties burns. He keeps spanking while I stare at the polished oak hardwood and the way his pants fall perfectly down his leg. The swats get harder, and I feel myself jolting forward. I grasp his leg to steady myself, and he tucks me closer against him. Another yelp I can’t control bursts from me. The heat has started to leave my intimate places and concentrate on my cheeks. I wiggle as four land in the same spot—mostly on the part of my bottom that isn’t covered by cotton. My breathing increases. Shit! It hurts!

“Are you going to show me a little more respect, Daniela?” he asks, and I garble an answer between spanks. I feel his displeasure in every slap. I didn’t think of my attitude as a cursor to our communications. Is it possible I’m also to blame?

“You need to look beyond people’s status and money before judging them.” My breath hitches as his words sink in with several more heavy-handed thwacks. Is it true? Had I prejudged him long before I even spoke to him? Had I gone into our first conversation having already decided he was an ass? I do seem to dislike the wealthy—except Ollie. Why? Because I grew up with nothing? That was unfair, wasn’t it? Was my lack of wealth Adam Fiori’s fault though? No.

“Maybe you’re right!” I blurt, in between the chorus of branding spanks. I’ll say whatever he wants to hear. “I can’t—no more!” Where’s my pride now?

He stops a moment, and I blow out in relief until his finger slips into the band of my panties and he lowers them. I begin to panic, squirming on his lap.

“No, Adam! My dignity!”

He leans forward a bit. “Your pride is more like it, little girl. Stay still, Daniela. We’re not done yet.”

I ignore him and kick and flail, covering my bottom with my hand.

He clears his throat. “Okay, we’ll do it your way then.” His firm words grip me as does his arm. “Give me your hand.” He’s getting serious, and that makes my inside writhe with nerves.

“No,” I snarl. He brands my naked backside with a spank so sharp I’d probably be on the other side of the room if he weren’t pinning me so tightly. I don’t want to give him my hand, so I tuck it to my chest. I don’t want to feel any more trapped.

“Now!” he says, firmer. “Or this will get much worse.” To prove his point his hand smacks down on my thigh and I squeal. Jesus!

I whine—a long drawn-out mewl.

“I can’t. No more! Please. There’s no spot left unscorched.” I just can’t.

“Are you going to give me your hand?” he asks softly, ignoring my speech. I choke a little on a whimper but reach back to him slowly. “Good girl.” I don’t know why but I feel a thrill at his words.

With my hand pinned gently but firmly at my back and my panties down, I’m scared. He touches my bare skin, and I jump a little. He rubs.

“It’s nice and red back here, Daniela. I think we are well on the way to teaching you manners, what do you think?”

“I think I’m well educated enough. In fact, I think I have my degree. No, my PhD!” I say with a whine.

“And if it were your decision, I’d stop, but it’s not. And next time I expect a ‘yes, sir’ instead of the sauciness, understand?” When I don’t speak quickly enough, I’m given a sharp stinging slap on my other thigh. The noise resonates in the room, but mostly I feel as if I’ve sat on a prickle bush—with sunburned skin.

“Oh, God! Yes, sir!” I blurt. He starts spanking my bottom again and this time I can’t help but squirm—it’s not a conscious decision at all. It hurts so much more on bare skin. I have a low pain tolerance and I hate that my hand is trapped, too. I don’t like feeling helpless and confined. His swats keep coming, and I start to plead. I can’t take it. I fall limp across his knees, and my shoulders begin to shake. I can’t believe it; I’m crying. Tough, high-spirited Dani Torkaz is crying! What’s ever more shocking is it feels good. Trapped, at his mercy, weeping, I feel free—safe! And it makes no damn sense!

“Please,” I say so softly I doubt he can hear. “I’m sorry I’ve been rotten. Please know I’m sorry. You’re right. I judged you. I didn’t give you a chance. I’m so, so sorry!” And I am. I’ve been unfair to him.

“That’s all I needed to hear, sweet one.” He stops branding me, but I’m still across his thighs. I don’t move even as he releases his grip. He slides my panties up and puts his hand on my back. He moves it in circles, and it feels good. “I forgive you. I know you’re a good girl.”

Those words send me into a mental spiral. Emotion—weak girly emotion—overwhelms me and finds escape by way of fresh tears. Somehow he scoops me up and holds me against his chest. I’m curled in his lap sobbing and he hushes me like a child. I feel small, fragile, and taken care of for the first time in my entire cognitive existence, but after a few minutes my vulnerability evaporates, and I’m sexually aware of his every touch. I turn, scraping my raw ass off his pants and close my mouth over his. There’s a libidinous beast inside me, clawing through the crack in my hard shell. I convince myself that the soft girly emotions I’ve had were imaginary. He kisses me just as deep as I kiss him, and we tug at each other’s clothes. I fumble with the buttons on his crisp white shirt and he grabs a handful of hair from the back of my neck to pull my head back so his mouth can devour my neck. It sends vibrations through me straight to my core.

“Adam,” I gasp as he nibbles the fleshy spot between my neck and shoulder. He pulls back to take over removing his shirt as my fingers have stalled in their mission. With a growl he lifts my arms, pulls mine off, and tosses it.

“Up,” he says and removes my pants with matching speed while I attempt to tug at his belt buckle. His hands dive into the back of my panties and run firmly along my blazing hot ass to squeeze and lift me up and against him. His mouth covers the hiss it causes as his tongue slides and dips to mate with mine. My center presses against his waist when I wrap my legs around him. As he carries me to the bed, his mouth doesn’t miss a beat. It leaves my mouth and trails quickly along my neck and chest to find the two rubies hidden beneath my sports bra. I arch my back, shoving my breast against his face as his hot moist breath penetrates the silky material. I’m panting, gasping, and pawing at him when he crushes me against his mattress.

He hovers over me then, but his cock presses urgently against my hot and pulsing core. I run my hands through his hair moaning and grinding as he shoves my bra up to take my freed nipple into his hot mouth. His attention doesn’t just stay on one either. The other only has to ache a few moments before he gives it the rough tugging and tongue flicking attention it yearns for. He yanks my arms free of his hair and raises them so the bra can be scattered with the rest of our clothes on his floor.

“God, Adam!” I call out, squeezing my eyes shut as he nibbles across my belly to the edge of my panties, which are rolled partially down my hips. I feel his weight completely lift off of me and my eyes pop open as he spreads my thighs apart widely. His finger traces the edge of my panties to the patch of doubled cotton at my apex and I gasp. Just one feather-light finger brushes my labia through the material and I release a long drawn-out moan. His eyes are on mine, molten and sparkling with mischief. “Please, Adam, touch me,” I say breathlessly. His brow raises and his lips curl in a torturous smirk.

“All in good time, little girl.” Another brush of his fingers tickles and I squirm. “Arms up.” I obey and raise them above my head on the mattress, still absorbing every feeling his finger is causing. “Keep them there,” he demands. With his free hand I watch him finish unbuckling his belt. The physical and visual sensory overload makes me bite my lip and reach for him. His eyes narrow and the belt slides out of its loops with an exciting swish.

“Hands, Dani. Hands.” His brow cocks and his fingers leave my panties as he folds the belt in half. I look through my lashes and pout but put my arms back up. His brows shoot up and down once quickly. “That’s my girl.” He’s naked before his finger is back at my panty edge. It runs right along the side slowly until he’s slipping it right inside to continue his light and slow torturous teasing.

“Gah,” I pant, lifting my hips to him in hopes of a heavier, more intrusive touch. He only clucks his tongue at me and removes his finger. “Nuh-uh, honey.”

Before I can further protest he yanks the panties right off my hips and down my legs. Now he is the one who looks tortured. He blows out a long breath as he looks at me from head to toe. I have never felt less insecure than at this moment. I feel powerful at his look. Grinning at me, he yanks me right to the edge of the mattress where my bottom is hanging precariously off the bed and he dives between my thighs. His tongue is sweet torture as he explores my folds. I’m wiggling helplessly when he props my legs on his shoulders. The delicious feelings he’s causing makes me writhe and call out before he grabs my bottom cheeks and lifts, tilting my hips so I’m fully accessible and unable to move my lower body. Between the sucking and flicking I have to toss my head from side to side and grasp the duvet to hang on, as if gripping the bedspread will keep me from falling off the precipice I’m on the edge of. The building tension inside my body makes every muscle taut with strain. I feel as if letting go will sweep me away from the incredible sensations he’s giving me and I don’t want to leave this amazing moment.

“Come, Dani. Come. Right. Now.” His tongue, which momentarily paused to speak, is back between my folds and his fingers find my slick entrance. He pumps two long digits inside me. I pant and gasp before going right over the top. The fall is incredible and before I even hit the bottom, his cock replaces his fingers and I’m climbing again. I clutch his thick shoulders, clinging to him as he yanks me back up. He rolls us after a second and I am suddenly on top of him on the floor. I am no more in control in this position though. His arms band around me like steel and I’m against his hard chest as he pumps from beneath me. The roof of my mouth and palms tingle and I bite my lip to keep from crying out as he takes a nipple into his mouth. There are so many sensations—Gawd, so many. He releases my nipple with his mouth and shoves me up again. One of his hands finds my bottom and assists me to move on him, the other continues plucking and rolling my nipple. The new position allows for deeper penetration and it makes me squeeze my eyes closed and bite my lip hard enough to hurt. His fingers leave my nipple and find my mound. The pad of his thumb plays with my nub and I lose control and call out, clutching his pecs as I howl. His hand swats my bottom sharply as I fall again down in a spiral of delicious sensations.

“That’s it, little girl, come for me.” His growling release only adds to my pleasure as our pulsing intermingles.

Just like my earlier fantasy, Adam Fiori has taken me roughly right there. First with his mouth—feverish and demanding, and then with his Adonis-like cock. It’s sweaty, ardent, animalistic sex between two consenting adults that has ended with us in a heap of heaving chests, limp limbs, and slick, moist skin on his bedroom floor. Oh. Good. God.

He pulls a blanket from the bed and bundles us. Adam pushes my hair from my face, and his fingers trail sweet feathery touches. I could fall asleep tucked in the warm, safe cocoon he’s made for us.

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