Page 19 of Thwack!

“Ten,” Sloane reminded him as he banged out the front door toward his car in the driveway. “I’ll be waiting up.”

~~~

At twenty-three, Sloane didn’t have the unbridled energy of eighteen. He fell asleep before Devon got home, slumping sideways onto the couch while he waited like he’d said he would, but the sound of the front door snicking shut—a much quieter entry than Devon’s earlier exit—woke him. He bolted upright, trying to make it seem like he’d been alert all this time, as Devon inched his way up the stairs and around the corner.

“Devon.”

Devon froze, his shoulders going stiff. Then he visibly shook himself out and turned with a smile, the sort of full-wattage smile that got him out of his difficulties, his body loose and lazy as he lounged against the wall.

“Hey, big brother.”

Sloane rolled his eyes. The two of them had only been stepbrothers a few years, not long enough for any family bond to have formed, and the way Sloane was feeling right now was anything but brotherly. He wanted to smack that smile right off Devon’s gorgeous face except he had a better idea about what to smack.

“You know what your problem is?”

“That I want to go to bed and you’re talking to me?” Devon fluttered his eyelashes innocently, as though his comment hadn’t been a hundred percent snark.

“Your problem,” Sloane said, rising to advance on him, “is that no one has ever told you no and made it stick. Your father is a slacker—”

“Hey!”

“And your mother is a coward, afraid you’ll stop loving her if she enforces any consequences because it’s oh so sad for poor Devon that his parents got divorced when he was only five. News flash, Devon. Everyone’s parents get divorced. You don’t see me taking advantage of my parents’ divorce to act like a selfish brat.”

“You wish your mom loved you the way mine loves me.”

“My mom loves me plenty. She just didn’t want me growing up useless and soft, which is where you’re headed. If someone got strict with you, they’d be doing you a favor.”

“Too bad I don’t see anyone stepping up to make that happen,” Devon said with a light shrug. He faked a pout, then turned away, heading for their room. Sloane grabbed his shoulder and spun him back.

“The person who’s stepping up is right in front of you.”

Devon snorted. “Being left in charge of the house this weekend has really gone to your head, hasn’t it? I told you before, you’re not my father.”

“And I told you before, I am this weekend. And as your surrogate father this weekend, I intend to give you what you should’ve gotten a long time ago.”

“What’s that?” Devon asked with an unconcerned grin.

“A spanking.”

The word dropped between them like a bomb, leaving a crater of silence. Devon’s grin hung in place for a moment, then slipped slowly down his face to be replaced by a blank gape. Even Sloane was surprised by what he’d said, though he’d had it in mind from the moment he’d been left in charge.

Actually, the idea had come to him long before that. Every time Devon sassed or flunked or made a mess he expected someone else to clean up, Sloane’s hand itched with the urge to slap his pert ass, to take the starch out of him one smack at a time. He found Devon both irritating and irresistible, wanting in equal parts to fuck him and to boot him out on the street, and spanking him seemed like a reasonable compromise. Devon would get what was coming to him and Sloane would get his rocks off. That ass was going to be so perfect under his hand.

“You can’t spank me.”

“How are you going to stop me?”

Devon was an adorable handful, but Sloane had all the bulk. He yanked Devon toward him, and Devon came easily, practically stumbling into his arms.

“Should’ve come to the gym with me when I invited you,” he said as he frog-marched Devon into the living room. Devon was sagging his body and dragging his feet, but his attitude was no match for Sloane’s muscle.

“Sloane,” he whined, giving Sloane’s name a host of extra syllables. “You can’t really.”

Sloane didn’t bother arguing. He just sat down on the couch and arranged Devon over his lap, ass up and head dangling. He spread his knees wide, making a table across which Devon was stretched out too far to gain purchase with either his hands or his feet.

Devon kicked his legs, so Sloane brought a quick hand down on his ass to demonstrate that none of that was going to work. That was when Devon really did start to fuss, whole-body writhing in an attempt to escape. But he wasn’t going anywhere, not unless Sloane wanted him to, and Sloane was enjoying the way all that squirming was giving his cock a massage. It’d started firming the moment he’d decided to go through with this, remembering all those jerk-off sessions where he’d fantasized about this exact scenario. Now Devon was over his lap where Sloane had always wanted him, and that ass was about to be his.

Devon called him every name in the book, his movements growing more and more frantic as he realized how stuck he was.