I step closer. Close enough that he has to tilt his head back to hold my gaze.
“You keep sassing me like that, see what happens,” I say quietly. “I will spank you right here. Right now. In this parking lot. Don’t think I won’t, boy.”
His pout wavers for half a second—then hardens.
“Try it,” he snaps.
I don’t hesitate.
I catch his wrist, spin him firmly so his front faces the car, and press his palms flat against the driver’s-side window. The glass is cool and he gasps at the contact.
“Daddy!”
“Hands stay there,” I order. “Stick that butt out.”
He freezes.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and tug them down in one smooth motion—jeans and briefs together, past his hips, past his thighs, pooling at his knees. Cool air hits his bare skin. He squeaks as his cheeks wobble.
Before he can protest further I bring my hand down.
“Stay still!” I growl. “These white cheeks are turning red. That’s all there is to it.”
The first swat lands sharp and loud, echoing off the concrete pillars and parked cars like a gunshot. Landon yelps and stomps his foot.
Second swat. Third. Fourth.
Each one rings out, crisp and unmistakable in the near-empty garage.
Landon struggles to keep his cries contained—small, bitten-off whimpers that turn into grunts and moans. His hips jerk with every impact, but he doesn’t try to twist away.
I pause after the sixth.
He’s breathing hard, forehead pressed to the glass, cheeks flushed.
I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the small, brightly wrapped candy I’d grabbed from the concession stand earlier—a novelty cock-shaped lollipop on a stick, bright pink and frankly ridiculous. I unwrap it quickly.
“Open,” I command.
Landon turns his head just enough to see what I’m holding. His eyes widen.
“Daddy!” Landon protests.
“Open,” I repeat. “Now.”
He parts his lips and I slide the candy between them. He closes around it automatically, cheeks hollowing as he sucks.
“Good boy.”
I resume the spanking.
Ten more measured swats—hard enough to sting, not hard enough to bruise. The sound bounces around us again and again. Landon’s muffled cries vibrate around the candy. Tears gather at the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t spit the lollipop out.
When I finally stop his bottom is glowing pink, hot to the touch. He’s trembling, breathing in short, shaky bursts.
He looks up at me with wet lashes and flushed cheeks, the ridiculous pink cock-pop still between his lips.
I take it from his mouth, wrap it in the discarded cellophane, and slip it back into my pocket.
