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“You can’t spank me. They’ll hear.”
Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? I basically told him if there weren’t other people here, he could spank me. Now he’s going to think he can do that anytime he wants when we’re alone.
“You think I give a fuck if other people hear you getting your bottom spanked?” He’s not smiling. Nope, there isn’t an ounce of sarcasm in his voice. He really doesn’t care if other people hear. But I do.
“I don’t want anyone to hear.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Several emotions pass through those emerald eyes, and I want to ask what he’s thinking, but then he sighs. “Fine. But you’re still going to be punished.”
“I don’t want to be punished.”
Good God. I sound like a whiny little girl. And the way one side of his mouth pulls up into a smirk, he thinks so too.
“Little girls never want to be punished, but they need to be, so they remember to be good girls in the future.”
“I am a good girl.”
What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I indulging him on this? Why am I playing the part instead of telling him to fuck right off to hell?
His mouth spreads into a genuine smile. “You are a very good girl, baby. But you were naughty. So, here’s what’s going to happen since I’m not going to fuck your mouth, and I can’t spank you with other people here. You’re going to go stand with your nose in the corner for five minutes and think about a better way to talk to Daddy in the future.”
That sounds awful. I think I’d rather him fuck my mouth. That seems much more fun. Despite hating the idea of standing in the corner, there’s an ache between my legs that says otherwise.
Before I can argue, he rises and leans down to grab my wrists, then pulls me up to stand. I stare up at him, waiting for him to tell me he’s kidding. Instead, he places his hands on my shoulders and turns me toward the only empty corner of my bedroom. Then he swats my bottom. Hard.
“Owwie!” I spin around and glare at him while rubbing my butt.
“Get moving, otherwise I’ll spank you with or without people hearing.”
His tone leaves no room for argument, and if I know one thing about Bash, it’s that he doesn’t make empty threats. None of them do.
With a huff, I turn and stomp toward the corner. “This is ridiculous.”
“Keep talking, and I’ll add more time.”
Well, that’s rude.
It’s like time stands still. In a way it’s good because with me facing the wall, I don’t have to see his beautiful face. It gives me a chance to sort my thoughts without being distracted by him. On the other hand, I miss his touch. The warmth his enormous body provides. The way he looks at me like I’m the most interesting thing he’s ever laid eyes on. His smirk after he’s said something dirty. That dang citrus scent that makes all of my senses come alive.
He declared that I’m his. What that all entails, I’m not sure. Does he mean I’m his girlfriend? That seems a little juvenile. Do mafia men have girlfriends? Maybe I should ask Kieran.
I shouldn’t have cursed at Bash. I know this isn’t the best part of town. The locks in this place aren’t super secure. He’s here doing this nice thing for me, even if he is going about it the wrong way, and I was yelling at him in front of his friends about it. Something tells me Bash is always going to do things his way, even if I don’t appreciate that. He’s not a man who does anything by anyone else’s rules but his own.
“Time’s up. Come here, baby.”
He’s sitting on my bed with his thighs spread wide, holding out his arms for me to come to him. Maybe I should be spitting mad that he punished me, but the only thing I want right now is to curl up with him and let him snuggle me.
As soon as I get to him, he tugs me down on his lap and holds me close to his chest while stroking a hand up and down my back. “That’s my good girl. I’m proud of you for accepting your punishment.”
Feeling relieved, I burrow my face against his neck. “I shouldn’t have cursed at you.”
His hand stills for a brief second. “You’re not always going to like how I take care of you, Chloe. I’m a control freak. I’m possessive and overbearing.”
“You fool people.”
He leans back enough so he can see my face. “What do you mean?”
I reach up and tuck the tips of my fingers into his shirt so they’re resting right on his pulse.
