"I would never."
"Liam."
"I wouldmaybe."
"My point exactly."
I try a different approach. I lean against the desk. "Fine. Don't tell me. I'll just ask around. It's not like this place is big. I'll figure it out in about twelve minutes."
"You won't."
"Maybe ten. Jack knows everyone. He probably knows the story."
His eye twitches. Progress.
"Or," I say, sliding along the desk toward the filing cabinet, "I could just look for information myself. I know which drawer you pulled it from."
His hand shoots out and catches my wrist. "Sit down,Marsal."
"Make me."
The words come out before my brain can ponder if it's a good idea.
"Liam," Ethan warns.
"Ethan," I mimic, pitching my voice lower in a terrible impression of his authoritative tone. "Sit down, Marsal. Don't worry about it, Marsal. I'll handle it, Marsal." I'm waving my free hand in the air now, the ADHD spinning up. "You know what, while we're at it, let me just do everything and tell you nothing because I'm Ethan and I know best and…"
He spins me around so fast I can barely process it, and when I'm back to myself, I'm over his knees, his hand landing on my ass over my sweatpants.
It's not hard. Not even close to the walloping he gave me my first week. But it still packs a sting. A delicious sting that sends my cock hardening at the same moment.
"Ow! What the…!" I squirm, trying to twist off his lap, but his left leg swings over the back of both mine, pinning them down, and he keeps spanking me. His thigh is a steel beam. I'm not going anywhere. "What is that for?!"
"For being a relentless pain in my ass," he says. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. "For telling the kid that I spank you."
"You do spank me!" Harder swats. “You're doing it right now!” He pulls my sweatpants down, now spanking my white briefs. “Ouch! Ouch, ouch! Hey!” I grab at his ankle for leverage, trying to pull myself forward, but he just shifts his weight, and I slide back into place. "This is abuse of power!"
"This is barely a love tap." It's starting to burn now. But not enough. My masochistic ass never has enough. I wish he'd do much more. "You want to feel abuse of power, keep trying to get into my filing cabinet."
"I wasn't going to…" Swat, harder. "Okay, I was absolutely going to, but that's not the point…" Swat, even harder. "Ethan!"
"Liam," he says, mimicking me, in that stupid calm voice, and I can hear the smile in it even though I can't see his face from this angle. He spanks me some more, hitting my thighs as well, which makes me squirm. But then, he stops. His hand rests on my lower back now, warm and heavy, holding me in place while his leg keeps mine locked down. I wriggle like a fish. Nothing. The man is a goddamn anchor.
"Are you done?" I huff, blowing hair out of my eyes. My cheek is pressed against his thigh.
"Areyoudone?"
"I was never doing anything!"
"You were doing approximately seventeen things, all of them annoying." He gives me some more swats, each one making me jump in place a little. Then, he unlocks his leg from mine, and I scramble off his lap. I stumble upright, turning to face him, and he's sitting there with his arms crossed over his chest, looking smug as hell, those green eyes bright with something I don't see enough of. Joy, maybe.
"Fucker," I mumble, rubbing my ass for effect. It's pretty warm, but it barely hurts. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're proud of yourself."
"I am proud of myself. That was excellent technique. Quick wrist, good control."
