My front door is open when I get home. Not just the door to the building, which is pretty much always ajar, but my actual apartment door. I walk in the front door already annoyed. This has Dave written all over it.
I told Dave no. Why doesn’t he ever listen? I know he’s going to act like I wasn’t clear when I told him.
To my surprise, Dave’s not on my couch, or scrounging in my cupboards for food. He’s not here at all. Which is strange, because I can feel Dave vibes.
“Hello?”
I jump as the door shuts behind me. I turn around to see the tall, broad-shouldered, balaclava-clad man who has been haunting me for days now. His eyes glint at me through the open slots.
“Hello, Laura,” he says, his voice deep and commanding. “Did you do a little commerce today?”
At first I can’t think what the hell he’s talking about, then it hits me. Of course, the money. The car. All that. My annoyance at Dave temporarily made me forget my own transgressions.
“I did,” I say, taking a step back and bumping into the kitchen table. “It was my car. I could do what I liked with it.”
I push my handbag onto the counter and look at him defiantly. I knew he wouldn’t like me selling the car, but there were so many very good reasons to do it, and money was only one of them.
“That thing would have been way too expensive to run,” I say.
“You could have asked me for money,” he replies. “It’s rude to return a gift, to the wrong place, for significantly less than it is worth.”
“I would never ask you for anything. I don’t even know who you are. I didn’t want the car.”
“Ungrateful little girl,” he murmurs, reaching for me. “I know one way to teach you a lesson.”
He draws out a chair at my kitchen table and pulls me close. I let him do what he’s going to do. My mind has gone sort of soft and floppy and helpless as he turns me over his knee like I’m some bad kid he needs to spank.
“Next time I give you a present, you’re going to say thank you,” he says, smoothing his hand over my skirt.
Smack!
“What do you say, Laura?”
“Huh?” I am confused. Another hard smack lands on my ass, pain prompting thought. “Sorry?”
“No,” he says, his tone patient. “What did I say I was going to teach you to do when someone gives you something?”
“Thank them?”
“That’s right,” he says, rubbing his hand over my ass smoothly one more time. Then he spanks me again, quite sharply and hard enough to make me yelp.
“Thank you?” I try that response to see if it’s the one he wants.
“Good girl,” he growls softly. “Thank me for spanking your naughty bottom.”
He talks with this deep, masculine, almost paternal tone that probably shouldn’t make my pussy tingle as much as it does. I also shouldn’t be feeling this comfortable with him. There’s something about the way my weight is distributed over his thighs that feels comforting.
But I’m not going to thank him for punishing me.
He spanks me again, sending another sharp jolt through my body.
“Say thank you, Laura.”
“No,” I grunt. “I’m not thanking you for anything. You’re a monster. Even if you left a car here in my name, there was some sick reason for it, I bet. Probably was full of trackers and explosives.”
“Explosives?” His voice lifts into a questioning tone at the end.
“Yes. Because that’s what crazy stalkers do.”
