Page 81 of Graciously His

“Are you ready for me to stop?” I tap the reddest spot and she gasps. My cock jumps and I’m so tempted that I don’t stop myself from voicing my deepest desires. “Because I could spank you forever, Grace. I could turn this skin pink, then red, then purple. I could spank you, then flog you, then fuck you.”

That snaps her back to the present. “Please don’t!”

I press my palm across her ass, holding her in place. Holding myself in check. Grace collapses, her eyes closing. I lean down, letting her feel my chest against her back.

“I want more than you just gave me, Grace.” I grip her reddened flesh a little harder, listening to her whimpers. “I’m a greedy brute who wants to spank you to pieces, fuck you broken, then put you back together.” I change my touch, cupping her gently. “But I won’t. Because this was more than enough for an apology, and I can see that you need me to stop now.”

Her frightened whimpers turn into sobs as she presses her face deeper into the mattress. I murmur approval, half-tempted to turn her over and lick her tears. I could drink in everything she’s feeling and make it my own.

Instead, I lean down further and kiss her heated skin. Her sobs cut off with a gasp as I begin exploring her, tracing the red outlines of my fingers with my tongue, then sliding slightly into the dip between her cheeks. Gently, I palm her, pulling her cheeks apart so that her exit puckers.

“N-no,” she whispers, understanding exactly where my mind is heading.

“No,” I confirm, “I promised I wouldn’t, and I won’t.” My attention shifts downwards. “And just look at this piece of perfection, so wet and ready.” I let my fingertips trace over her labia, putting slight pressure on her clit from the sides. She mewls and I see how aroused she really is—mouth open, lips wet, face pink.

“Eyes on me, Grace.”

I make an accounting of the emotions cascading over my girl: she’s aroused, yes, but she’s also experiencing shame, fear, and a hundred other things.

“I want to make you come.” I move my hand against her, my cock jumping when she gasps. “Do you want me to do that, love?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers.

I remove my hand, realising it’s too soon to push her further. Murmuring a quiet word of reassurance, I guide Grace up my lap so I can cuddle her close. She buries her face against my chest as I stroke her back.

“You trusted me a lot just now, Grace, do you know that?” I feel her shrug. “You made a full, satisfying apology, and you even kept yourself from panicking when I threatened to take it further. You trusted me to stop when I said I would, even though we both knew I didn’t want to. You were so brave.”

I pet her slowly, stroking from the nape of her neck down to the top of her buttocks. She settles against me, sighing. I’m still hard, still craving more, but this isn’t the time. If this is going to work properly, I have to establish a pattern here and now: Grace takes what I give, then I show my appreciation. Do I want to fuck her every single way she can be fucked? Absolutely. Am I going to? Not right now. So I hold her, murmuring how much I love her. How good she is. Her breathing calms, her tears dry.

I pull away after a long time has passed. She sighs in protest, but I pat her cheek, looking into her eyes to check that her mind is settling down. We’re almost there.

“I’m going to get you something to drink, Grace,” I say, getting to my feet, “then I’m going to finish taking care of you.”

She sits up on one elbow, her long hair falling down her chest in a way that distracts me. Her eyes are mistrustful, despite how sweetly she let me hold her.

“What if I don’t want you to take care of me like—like that?”

I take her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes squarely. “I won’t force you into anything, love—unless you want me to.”

Her lips part, eyes sparking with defiance and lust, the combination that defines this woman of mine. I give her a gentle kiss before I leave her alone.

In the kitchen, I put together a home-made energy drink. That spanking will have taken a lot out of Grace, and I want to make sure she’s feeling fully recovered and cared for. I blend freshly squeezed lemon juice with water, manuka honey, and some magnesium powder. Once it’s mixed, I pour it over ice, garnish it with a lemon wedge, then head back to the bedroom.

Grace is lying on her side, her fingers tracing over the covers. She jumps a bit when I approach, emotions flickering in her eyes, contradictory and complex. There’s yearning and shame, fear and defiance. I want to quiet all those feelings, overrule each and every one with a strike of my hand, a lick of my tongue to find the sweetness beneath.

“What’s that?” she asks, sitting up and wincing in pain.

I want to examine the marks I’ve left, to check if she’ll bruise, but I restrain myself, positioning the glass under her chin and tilting the straw towards her lips.

“It’s something to restore your electrolytes.” She tries to take the glass, but I give a disapproving growl. “No, love. You just sit there and drink.”

Gratitude overwhelms her flickering emotions, and I feel an echoing satisfaction deep in my chest. This is what I want more than anything—more than spanking her or eating her or being inside her, I want to take care of Grace until she sees me for the husband I am. Until she means the safe phrase.

“It’s good,” she murmurs in between sips. “What’s in it? Lemon and… honey?”

“Manuka and magnesium. All the good stuff a perfect girl needs after an apology.”

She finishes the drink, the ice cubes clinking as I set the glass aside.