“What are you doing?”
“Reminding you I’m the one in charge this weekend.” He ran his palms over her bare buttocks, savoring the silky feel of her skin and the faint citrus of his shower gel.
She stilled. “You’re going to spank me. I suppose I deserve it. I’ve been trying to needle you into action, you know.”
“I do know,” he said. “Which is why I decided to ignore the transgression, but then I thought it’d be better to demonstrate for you the consequences of your actions.”
“Try shouting. My family shouts at me.”
“They’re not your lover. They don’t have an agreement with you.”
“That’s true.”
“A big difference,” he said, caressing her bare buttocks again.
Laura quivered, but she couldn’t decide whether it was excitement or fear of the unknown. His palms were callused and abrasive against her skin—a sensual drag that echoed in her pussy. A whoosh of heat slithered across her nerve endings, and her breath caught. Sweet anticipation. What did he intend to do next?
They were alone, and no one knew she was here. It should’ve terrified her, but instead she was filled with exhilaration.
He cupped her buttock, and he trailed a finger along the tender skin of her inner thigh. His finger trailed upward, along her cleft. He skimmed her clit, the light touch electrifying. She drew a sharp breath, prayed he’d repeat the move.
He didn’t. Instead, his finger worked upward to play with her pucker. Frissons of excitement dive-bombed her body. He was toying with her, testing her or maybe he was waiting for her to scream rape or something equally odious, because she was—after all—a Drummond.
As if.
She’d never treat a man that way and especially not Dallas.
Dallas was different. He called her, tempted her to dally on the wild side.
His finger moved back and forth over sensitive nerves. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She didn’t even have to think about her reply.
Crack!
The sharp smack on her bottom made her jolt. Before she could catalogue the sensations, decide if it hurt, another sharp smack hit her butt. It was angled differently, and this time it did bloody smart.
“Ow.” She sent a reproving look over her shoulder and attempted to wriggle free. “That hurt.”
“It was meant to.”
He expected her to quit, to balk and call foul. She heard it in his tone. But she’d never been a quitter and wasn’t about to start now. She could handle a little pain.
Laura glanced at him, saw his raised eyebrows and didn’t say a word. Instead, she turned her stare to the Oriental floor rug, the rich jewel colors in the borders, and mentally braced herself for whatever he decided to do next.
Crack.
Her bottom stung, heat prickling across her skin. Dallas smacked her three more times in quick succession, each blow from a different angle, heating a different part of her bottom. She bit her lip, uncertain. It hurt, damn it. He began again, repeating the pattern of blows, swift and precisely.
They still hurt, but the pain shifted, shimmered with erotic promise. The blows ricocheted downward until she trembled, her buttocks hot, tender.
Tears blurred the jewel colors of the rug. Her lip ached where she’d bit down hard to stem her protests.
He smacked her once more, then whispered, “Good girl.”
The words of praise sent a shudder through her, as did the tender caress of his hand, the way he cupped her hot flesh. The hard muscles of his thighs shifted, and she stiffened, expecting another blow. It didn’t come. Instead he whisked up her sweatpants and shifted her in his arms until he cradled her protectively. She buried her face in his shoulder, breathed in his scent and tried to settle her zigzag thoughts. He’d spanked her like a naughty child—shades of her family—and she didn’t know what to think.
No, that wasn’t quite right. She knewwhatshe should think, yet she was having trouble working up the proper head of steam to blast him with temper. His hand stroked down her back in a soothing, comforting manner, and that confused her too. She’d never felt so emotionally close to another person, and turmoil tangled her mind.
