He’s pinned me up against the wall before I can finish my sentence, the hard length of his cock rigid against my belly. I can’t breathe, I can’t speak, my heart taps a crazy beat in my chest. His large, rough hand cups my jaw, and he holds my eyes with his.
“Quiet, lass,” he says. “I’ve given you freedom. I’ve let you do what you need to. But you’ll be wise to remember that here, you belong to me.”
I swallow and take a deep breath in, then nod. “Aye, sir.”
He lowers his hand from my jaw to my neck. His rough, callused palm makes me shiver when he grips my neck and tightens his hold. “Good answer,” he breathes in my ear. “No more questions, Sheena. We’ll have dinner in my room tonight. You won’t leave my room without permission. In fact, you’ll do nothing else this evening without my permission.”
“Yes, sir,” I repeat, a little dizzy and lightheaded.
He’s either impatient, or feels like he needs to prove his point, for he bends and lifts me straight up into his arms.
“My shoe!” I protest, reaching fruitlessly for the little flat that fell straight off my foot.
“Leave it,” he says. “We’ll get it later.”
My arms encircle his neck as he marches with purposeful strides.
“You should drag a club,” I mutter, and the next thing I know I’m over his shoulder, kicking my legs and scrambling for purchase. He slams his palm on my backside again.
“Should drag you,” he says. “By the goddamn hair.”
“And pound your chest and call me woman? Mono-syllabic grunts might make communication easier to—ow!”
Another hard and punishing smack. I squirm, and I also shut up.
I’m not exactly sure what’s in his mind, or what he’s planning, but I think I’m about to be punished, and I’m not exactly broken up about that.
He opens the door to his room, slams it behind him, and still, I’m over his shoulder. When we reach the bedroom, he slides me down his body and plants me on the floor in front of him, while he drags a chair over and sits heavily on it.
I know what he’s doing a split second before I land belly-down over his knee.
“Now, wait a minute,” I protest.
“Quiet.”
He’s no longer teasing, all traces of humor gone.
I’m quiet. I’m turned on. I’m curious and also a little… humbled.
I’ve never been with a man who handles me like he does, with uncompromising sternness. But it isn’t just his unapologetic dominant ways that undo me. There’s so much more.
He drags down the top of my leggings, grabs the elastic of my knickers, then peels them down my legs until he gets to my feet. My sex pulses, my body heating at his touch, at the anticipation of the loss of control and measured pain. One shoe remains, and that’s easily dealt with. He bends, removes first one foot from my leggings, then the other, until I’m stripped from the waist down and dangling over his lap.
He pats my arse, then grips one cheek in his massive hand and gives it a hard squeeze.
“Ohh, ouch!” I protest. That only spurs him on to grab the second cheek and give that a good squeeze as well.
“Now,” he says. “We talk.”
My sex throbs with need, but even as my body responds to his mastery over me, crazy emotions rise to the surface.
“Okay, then,” I say, trying to hold onto a shred of dignity. Spoiler alert? It doesn’t work. I’m half naked, dangling over his knee, clearly about to get my arse spanked.
“So let me get this clear,” he says. You came here because you thought us responsible for your father’s death.”
Well, that ones’s easy. “Yes.”
He pats my arse. “Good. And let’s get this clear. You have it in your head that you’re a nuisance to us, that you’re in our hair, and you have to pack up and go.”
“Also, yes.”
“And that, lass, is where you’re wrong.”
I squeal when his large palm crashes against my upturned backside. “Ow!”
“Furthermore,” he continues. “You think I’ve taken you from the club, brought you here to interrogate and question, and that you’ll just waltz your way right back out of my life, do you?”
There’s no right answer to this question, and I’m determined to tell the truth, so with my eyes squeezed tight, I nod. “Aye.”
He gives me three more uncompromising spanks before he speaks again.
“Can’t you see what’s happening? What’s happened?” he asks.
I answer honestly. “No.”
He spanks me again.
“Hey! I told you the truth.”
“I spanked you for not seeing it.”
“You can’t do that!”
I scissor my legs when he gives me another three hard, searing spanks. “Clearly, lass, I can.”
He rests his palm on my flaming hot arse. “Now, Sheena, I do believe I’ve got your attention. Don’t I?”
I squirm but nod my head. “Aye, clearly.” My entire body’s at full attention.