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I yanked down my jeans, darting a look over my shoulder as I shuffled closer to the bar. At least the bastard had the good graces not to look or gawk lewdly. Maybe the man had a single decent bone in his body. But why did he have to be so damn good looking?
Closing my eyes, I willed myself to a happy place before lowering my panties. Thank God, I hadn’t worn my granny panties, choosing a lovely blushing pink lace thong instead. It was the only thing in my wardrobe in this color. I certainly wasn’t a girlie girl.
I found it interesting the kinds of ridiculous things that could go through a person’s mind just before receiving a round of punishment for some bad deed. My wacky brain drifted into wondering whether or not criminals facing death had these kinds of thoughts. Or were they thinking about their victims? Now I’d really lost it, a laugh coming way too close to bubbling to the surface.
After leaning over the edge of the bar, I took several deep breaths, doing what I could to prepare myself for the embarrassment as well as the pain. Maybe the man would go easy on me.
A few seconds went by. Then a minute. A second one. I was getting hot under the collar. “Can we get this over with?”
“You didn’t say the magic word.”
Oh, my God. He was having fun with my discomfort. Maybe I would consider scratching his eyes out with a dull spoon after this. “Fine. Please. Pretty please with fresh whipped cream and not one but two delicious, ripe red cherries.” I even managed to coo after issuing the blasphemous words.
He chuckled, the sound reverberating into every cell and muscle, just like he intended. He wanted me raw and on the edge before asserting his authority. Men were definitely all alike. Buzzards in sometimes nice clothing.
“Much better. I wanted to give you time to reflect on your bad behavior, to consider what other alternatives you could have used to accomplish your goal.”
Was the man kidding me?
“You mean like shooting you between the eyes?”
He took three very deliberate steps closer, still taking his sweet time, enjoying every second of tormenting me. “Well, there’s that. Then you would have ended up in jail for the rest of your life.”
“Let me guess. Because you’re oh-so important.”
“Something like that.” Without making me wait any longer, he issued two of the most brutal, heartfelt cracks of the thick leather I could imagine. At least that answered the question of whether he’d go easy on a stranger.
Nope.
I was instantly thrown into a different plane, my entire mind trying to capture the tingling sensations that ever so slowly drifted into agony. I took gasping breaths, fighting the urge to kick out yet my body betrayed me all over again. I jerked up, arching my back and shifting my hips back and forth.
“Stay in position,” he stated in such an authoritative tone that I was certain my father had come back from the grave.
I glanced over my shoulder, my breathing still labored but slid my arms across the bar, my fingers managing to grab the other edge. Yet the movement pulled my feet from the floor. Now this was humiliating, but not nearly as much as the scent of my desire wafting into the air, forming a crazy haze around me. The horrible experience was just a reminder of how long it had been since I’d allowed a man into my bed.
Or my life.
“Let’s try that again, shall we?” He issued a crack against the floor, moving to the side to show me how he expertly folded the belt in half. When he brought the strap down again, I knew my bottom had suddenly burst into flames.
I refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out or making a single sound. Biting my lower lip, I held my breath as he delivered four more, each one harder than the one before. I realized the bastard hadn’t even told me how many strikes I would receive, which wasn’t very gentlemanly of him. I would only tolerate but so many. That was for certain.
After smacking my bottom three or four times again, he took a deep breath himself. Wait a minute. Was the sound rattled, as if he was enjoying this in an entirely different way than lording the incident over me? I couldn’t think that way or I’d go mad. Unfortunately, I had a terrible feeling that my throbbing pussy was so wet my juices were leaking down my inner thighs to the bar’s surface. Now that would be the most shameful thing that had ever occurred in my entire life.
After six more brutal slaps of the belt, I was certain I was off my rocker. I was wet and hot, not from exertion or a humid day, but from a wave of excitement that was as confusing as the man.
I sensed his approach by the increasing electricity, and when he rubbed his fingertips from one side of my aching bottom to the other, I clenched my eyes shut.
“You’re doing exceptionally well, Red. I’m proud of you.”
Why was it that the statement pleased me, as if an unknown stranger being proud of me meant a damn thing?
Because he reminds you of Walter.
Oh, that was just sick. Except it was truthful, but only in the sense that of anyone in my life, Walter had given me the most compliments and mild yet perfectly handled criticisms when I’d needed them. He’d been gentle in his teaching, training me how to handle the horses. He’d been there to provide guidance with Britta, and quick to remind me that rules were there for a reason.
I missed the man so much, Walter becoming the father I’d never had.
But this man was nothing like him. Yes, he was strong and dominating, but that wasn’t a good thing. Neither were his stunning good looks and square jaw or the twinkle in his eyes. Nope.
