“That’s good. Now, tell me the rule, Quinn.”
“W-what rule?” Her question revealed genuine confusion and only a little distress.
He placed his hand across the small of her back, reassuring. “The rule you broke. You know the one.”
“I…um…” She shifted again, as if the air itself itched her bare skin. “I’m only to eat the prepared menu, unless you tell me otherwise?”
“Exactly. And did I tell you to eat the cookies?”
Her head drooped. “No.”
“How many did you have?”
“Oh God. Three?”
He smoothed his hand over her back once more. “I think it was more like ten.”
“Five!” Her head popped up again. “I ate five.”
“Okay.” He patted her once and then removed his hand. “You’re going to count them off. Nice and loud. I want to hear each number clearly. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
“Respond verbally, please.”
“Yes, dammit. I understand.”
“Are you ready?”
Her body tensed. “Yes.”
“All right. Let’s get started.” But then he waited another long moment. Waited until she dug her toes into the floor and pushed her hips up a barely perceptible degree. Not just consent. A request. Her low moan vibrated with anticipation.
He slapped his palm across one cheek…
“One,” she cried, then added a surprised, “two,” when he immediately backhanded the other unsuspecting cheek.
“That’s one,” he corrected, and watched a tinge of pink bloom across the smooth, pale skin. “Are you prepared for the rest of your punishment? Be sure of your answer, because I’m not going to stop and check in again.”
“I…yes. I’m prepared.”
He doled out the rest in rapid succession, giving her just enough time to draw in a breath after she called out each number. By the end, she was breathing heavy, her skin flushed with histamine-dilated blood vessels inflamed by the minor impact of his callused palm against her pampered ass. He was in a hell of his own making—a hell he’d entered as soon as he’d agreed to take her on. A hell that only got deeper and more damning the more time he spent with her. He wanted…
Unable to resist, he skimmed a fingertip low. She eased her thighs apart in what might have been a sneaky little move, except her body betrayed her. His head went light and his cock went heavier than humanly possible. If he accepted her subtle invitation, and instructed her to lift her hips, he’d find her hot and ready. But if he did that, right now, he wouldn’t have the self-discipline to leave without taking a taste. And once he catered to that pussy, she’d have all the power and she’d know it. He’d be the next thing to useless in terms of motivating her to follow the program. Instead, he drew a figure eight along her tender skin. Goose bumps rose in the wake of his touch. “Relax. We’re done with the preliminaries.”
She parted her legs as far as the shorts would allow. “There’s more?”
It took everything he had in him to keep some semblance of the higher goal in mind. The point was to break down her defenses and get to the true reason she undermined herself. “Yeah. Now we’re going to have some cognitive therapy.”
“Excuse me?”
“Time to talk.”
“I don’t need to talk.” Her rebuttal was instant.
He traced the figure eight again. “You don’t know what you need. That’s how you ended up here.”
“Fine.” She let the word out in a long-suffering sigh before she wrapped her hands around the handles and started to push herself up.