Page 102 of Possessive Ink

“You will be on my mind,” I try to assure him. “Every time I look at my hand and see this beautiful ring on my finger.”

“I want you to feel me.”

“I can feel you. I’m sore,” I whine.

“I need more than that,” he admits, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his lips pressed into a firm line.

“What do you want to do?” I ask cautiously, wanting to make him feel better, but a little scared of his response.

“I want to spank you. I want to make your ass hot and pink enough that you feel me every time you move, every time your sexy dress brushes over your cheeks.”

My breathing goes shallow, and I feel my mouth fall open. “You want to…”

“I want you to put yourself over my knee and let me spank your perfect ass until it’s hot and red. I won’t hurt you, but it’ll make sure I’m always on your mind.”

I open, then close my mouth, unsure what to say. We’ve talked about this before, and he’s even spanked me a handful of times, but it was playful and teasing. Right now, he’s not joking. His expression is tight and brooding.

“I’m not sure,” I admit.

“Because you’re worried I’ll hurt you, or because you’re worried you’ll like it?” he asks bluntly.

“Both,” I whisper.

“Princess, put yourself over my lap,” he orders, and it is an order, his voice stern and unyielding.

Freezing, I stare at the hand he’s offering. I can say no, and he’ll respect that, but I’m not sure that I want to. Instead of pushing me, he waits, his hand outstretched, patiently giving me the choice if I want to take it.

Before I’m even sure of my decision, my hand is in his, and I’m rising to my feet. Not letting me go, he helps me position myself over his lap, my head hanging down over the side of his thighs on one side, my feet dangling on the other.

The position makes me feel both vulnerable and incredibly needy.

“I love you so much, Lemon,” he says, before lifting his hand and bringing it back down on my ass.

Unlike the last time he spanked me with the hairbrush, his palms aren’t heavy, and there’s hardly any pain, but the longer he spanks, bringing his palm down over and over and covering my cheeks, the more my skin starts to heat and then burn.

“Atticus,” I rasp.

“Your skin turns the most beautiful shade of pink so fucking quickly, Princess,” he says, not pausing as he continues to spank me, making the burn spread all the way down the backs of my thighs.

After what feels like an hour, but is probably no longer than ten minutes, he brings his palm down once, then twice hard enough to hurt, the sound of the spanks echoing around the room.

“You did so well,” he praises, carefully helping me to stand up. “Turn around. Let me see.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I try to see my butt, but all I can see is a hint of pink skin. The burn is hot, but more of a lingering ache than any real pain.

“Let me see, Princess,” Atticus says again.

Turning so my back is to him, I hear his soft inhale of breath. “Perfect,” he says, running his fingers over my butt. “Go and take a look,” he suggests, pushing off the stool and moving to stand beside me. Taking my hand, he leads me over to the full-length mirror, then slowly turns me around until I get the full view of my deep pink ass cheeks.

“The heat will turn into a deep ache soon. It won’t hurt, but you’ll be aware of it all day,” he says proudly, running his palm over each cheek before he slides his fingers between my legs to cup my sex.

“Atticus,” I whine, a heavy need building inside of me from the heat of his fingers.

“I’ll make us some breakfast while you finish getting ready,” he says with a devious smile as he kisses me before he leaves.

FIFTEEN

ATTICUS