“Going to make this difficult?”

Someone once asked me what ‘kind of man’ I was. A leg man? A breast man?

No.

Finally, she suggested I was a brain man. For some reason, despite being more accurate than the first two guesses, I found this incredibly amusing.

Yes, I love a woman’s mind. More than that, I crave the contour of her soul, the cracks in the casement of her life.

I crave, want, desire, a woman’s mind. But when I look at a woman’s body, there are three places my gaze goes. Her eyes. Her throat. And her ass.

***

D’jaevle throws you onto the bed, face down.

Madeleine grins and scrambles up to all fours in a futile attempt to escape, her hair tousled around her face.

D’jaevle slowly arches a brow, as if to say “Going to make this difficult?” He shakes his head and steps up to the edge, eyes watching you intently.

Not really having time to make it difficult, Madeleine decides not to, and snuggles back down the way you threw her in the first place.

D’jaevle’s hands rip your pants over your waist roughly, yanking them off. His fingers snag your panties with them, leaving your bottom half, naked, exposed, and facing him.

Madeleine is suddenly cold, and wishes she’d run when she had the chance. On the other hand… “Spank me hard,” she murmurs, with a flutter of eyelashes.

D’jaevle nudges your thighs open with his knee, his hands doing his speaking for him. He doesn’t give you what you want, content for the moment to run a finger down the edge of your ass, between each cheek, a delicate trace along your back.

Madeleine shudders and pouts, glancing at you over her shoulder. Even after a moment, she’s already saturated with arousal.

D’jaevle finishes the trace with his fingers brushing your heat from behind. He drags his wet fingers back over your ass, and then leans down to lick your skin clean, his hands on your hips, holding you still.

Madeleine tenses in anticipation of the bite she thinks is going to follow that lick.

D’jaevle does indeed nip your skin, but it’s along the small of your back as his hand comes down *hard* on your ass, causing your whole body to shake under the intense impact of his hand meeting your vulnerable skin.

Madeleine yelps, and falters on the bed a little, burying her face in the sheets.

D’jaevle brings his hand down again, flat across both cheeks, leaving a red imprint of his hand burned into your skin. His breath is harsh against your back, your pain inspiring his own hunger.

Madeleine squirms away from the blow at first, but warms to it a moment later as the pain dissipates across her skin and fades into arousal. “Again…” she begs.