“Are you that desperate for a spanking, Celia?” His voice was a silky thread wrapping around her and pulling tighter until Celia could hardly breathe without moaning. “Answer me. And truthfully.”

Celia swayed in his grip. “No. I don’t know.”

His laugh was dark. “Oh, you know exactly what you want, sugarplum. And I know exactly what you need. But tell me this. Whose lap would you have chosen to lay your head? Which man would have been granted the honor of your warm breath curling around his cock? Felt your trembles when your backside was struck? Heard your little gasp of pain and delight?”

Celia’s eyes closed on a pang of desire so intense it left her dizzy. “The strike would be to the palm of my own hand in the center of my back,” she managed the explanation in a choked whisper. His brutal words should have her gasping in shock instead of sending lust spiking through her veins.

Gabriel’s mouth brushed over her lips. “Do you think any man would be able to resist striking that sweet, plump arse when it’s practically begging for his hand? Do you think he won’t dream of thrusting his cock into you while turning your pale flesh a bright red? Marking you with his palm prints? Impossible.” His free hand came up and cupped her throat, his palm resting so firmly against it that he surely felt it every time she swallowed. His eyes dropped to that point, narrowed with frustrated lust while his fingers flexed slightly.

“Whose lap would you have chosen, Celia?” He repeated the question.

Celia knew a momentary panic. Her heart beat so fiercely she wondered if Gabriel could hear it.

“Yours.” The admission was borne of desire, one heightened when his fingers tightened.

“My punishment, correct?” Like feathers brushing lace, he stroked the sides of her throat in tiny movements. “Because I dared stop your reckless behavior.”

Celia hesitated. She’d not thought of it that way. She’d only thought of the pleasure found in being that close to Gabriel. Her opportunity to revel in the hard-hewn strength of his thighs beneath her cheek, the weight of his hand holding her head in position. Only now, in this moment, did she realize the highly sexual position she would have willingly placed herself for the sake of the game. Her head in one man’s lap while another struck her from behind.

The images conjured in her brain were staggering.

Her breath escaped in a rush of regret. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. Now, let us call the others in and we shall continue the course you set us upon.”

Celia froze. “What? No. I no longer wish to play.” She struggled against the grip he had on her upper arm and the warm fingers wrapped around her neck. Gabriel held her easily, however. She could not twist free of his grasp and his lips twisted as he watched her try.

“Shhh. Do not fret, sweetness. Do you honestly think I would allow another man to strike you? He would die a quick death if he dared. No. It is my lap you will find yourself draped over and the only hand you taste the bite of shall be mine.”