“Are you a habitual drug user or something?” he asked, ignoring my question and turning his cold, hard, disarmingly sexy stare on me.
“What?” I said hoarsely. I was thirsty now.
But forget about telling him that. He’d probably drug my water.
“Whatever you took last night, Natalia, was a narcotic. You’re fortunate to be alive. I want you to tell me about your drug habit so that I can get you on the proper rehabilitation—”
Why did this guyinsiston getting my name wrong?
“I don’t fucking do drugs,” I spat.
And I didn’t. That was Lucy’s mistake, and I was paying for it, but not like Lucy was.
His body went still, and he cocked his head that same way he had did back in the strip club. “The evidence,” he said coldly, “suggests quite strongly that you do.”
I made a derisive noise and snorted at him. “Well. Asshole. Whoever you are. Idon’t.”
“I think you and I have a misunderstanding here, Natalia—”
“And that’s another thing, my name is Natalie. Eee. Natalie.”
Another cold silence, during which I had just enough time to contemplate that I both wished I hadn’t said that, but couldn’t help feeling the clutch of anticipatory excitement because I had, and now Mystery Man had the same wolf-like look on his face that he’d had just before he’d spanked me raw.
My bottom burned while he stared at me. He didn’t get flustered. Not in the least.
“Your name is Natalia, Natalia,” he said calmly. “And I think you are in need of a bit of clarification.”
I don’t know why. I jutted my chin out. This guy was obviously bonkers, and I was obviously going to be his lunch, or stuffed human doll, or whatever perverse thing he had in mind, but he could go fuck himself if he thought I was going to make it easy for him. “Oh, yeah?” I challenged him. “Maybeyouneed some fucking clarification—”
Well.
I didn’t really know where I was going with that anyway, so it didn’t matter too much for my sentence that I didn’t get to finish it. The wind was knocked right out of me by either surprise or centrifugal forces as he moved like a panther, whirled me around like a rag doll, and had me strewn across his lap in one quick motion.
I started to throw my hands around, but he caught them pretty quickly, and in a series of rough motions, none of which actually hurt, he had my arms pinned at my back in one hand, which he pressed down on so that I was pinned over his lap.
This left my feet free to kick, so I did, and I gave it my best shot writhing and squirming, but all this really did was make me tired.
Also, it didn’t stop him from smacking my bottom again, a rain of smacks that echoed in the room and bit hard into my already tender flesh. My eyes were stinging from the first slap, and I struggled to free myself, but he kept spanking me. Every slap seemed harsher than the last.
“Ow! Jesus! Stop it! Fuck you!” I was yelling.
All the while, he was speaking calmly, and I began to realize that for all the sharp pain it was causing me, he was spanking me calmly as well.
I started to wilt, and as I did, the pain didn’t go away, but he slowed his spanking or eased up on it. His voice came through between the slaps.
“You are in need of some clarification about our relationship, young lady. You are disobedient, reckless, and prone to doing some very naughty things. I am going to discipline you, and you are going to clean up your act, and you are going to behave like a proper young lady and not a druggy whore.”
I let my body relax into his lap, giving up—temporarily—on fighting him. My ass burned, and that same humiliating wetness was welling up between my thighs. My cheeks burned with shame, but I bit my tongue and relented.
For now, I thought.
“Now,” he said, moving his hand in a gentle caress over my bottom, which burned in two distinct ways: one painful, the other making me even wetter than I was. I hoped he somehow didn’t notice.
“The first thing I need you to do is tell me what you’re using.”
His words came back to me, and my anger flared up again. Druggy? Whore? Not me, you fucker.
“I don’t fucking use drugs,” I spat. “And I’m not a fucking whore.”
