Page 75 of King of Temptation

Probably that last one, if she was being honest. But telling him the truth right then seemed like the world’s worst idea. “I’m sorry I was a brat, really!”

“Hmm. We’ll see about that.”

Instead of another swat like she’d been expecting, he let his hand rest on her scorched ass, the heavy weight of it trapping the heat against her skin as she sniffled pitifully.

“Hand me your book, Marigold.”

Groaning quietly, she grabbed the thick hardcover—why did she write such long fucking books?—and passed it behind her to her tormentor.

“Look at you, being so obedient without any of the snark. I knew you had it in you.”

“Fu—” Catching herself at the last minute, she rolled her lips together, instead letting out a short scream to release some of the frustration building in her chest.

“Good catch, menace,” he praised with another of those quiet laughs that made her want to claw his eyes out. “You’re a fast learner.”

She was. And as soon as he let her up off his lap, she was going to go learn the slowest, most painful way to castrate someone.

Well, maybe after he gave her that orgasm she was supposed to be earning back.

“Ten with the book,” he said, tapping said book against her ass as he spoke. “Five from me and five from Killian. After each one, you will count and say ‘I am smart, successful, and I deserve to be heard’.”

Oh. Oh. Something sharp twisted in her chest, and tears blurred her vision before he even spanked her again. Did he really believe that?

Before she could wonder further, something heavy fell against her ass, reigniting the fire his hand had lit.

She really needed to start writing shorter books. And no more hardcovers.

“Your count, menace.”

Right. Fuck.

“One, I am smart, successful, and deserve to be heard.” Saying the words gave her that same little twist in her chest, and a single tear slipped down her nose.

Her dad didn’t think she was any of those things. Before tonight, she would have said Brody didn’t either. But⁠—

Pain blossomed across her ass a second time, distracting her from her internal monologue. “Two, I am smart, successful, and deserve to be heard.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, rubbing the slick cover of the book over her flesh, cooling some of the burn from his punishment. “Again.”

Ow. “Three, I am smart, successful, and deserve to be heard.” Her voice took on a more whining tone, and if she hadn’t been so focused on the twin pains in her ass and her chest, she might have found it humiliating.

Four, five, six, I am smart, successful, and deserve to be heard.

By now, she’d given up fighting the tears, and lay with her head pillowed on her arms, her shoulders shaking as she wept out a lifetime of not being good enough, of not living her life the way everyone told her she should. A lifetime of her father sighing and shaking his head, a lifetime of sneering looks from people who looked down on her books as ‘smut’ and not worth the paper they were printed on.

Number seven landed low, the edges of the book digging into the tops of her thighs, and she instinctively reached back to protect her ass from the assault.

“None of that, menace.” Brody’s voice was surprisingly gentle, with only a hint of rebuke as he threaded his fingers through hers, pinning her arm to the small of her back. “Give me your count or we start over from the beginning.”

Oh, god. There was no way she could handle that. Not because the spanking itself was too much, but because she wasn’t sure she’d make it through her count a second time without her heart shattering into a billion pieces she’d never manage to put back together. “S-seven, I am sm-smart, successful, and I–I deserve to be heard.”

“My good, smart girl. Just three more and then we’re done.”

Three more. I can handle three more.

At the eighth swat from her book, though, something happened. The heaviness in her chest, the pressure she’d lived with so long it had become a part of her, simply… broke. It didn’t disappear, but pieces of it crumbled away.

So what if her dad didn’t think what she did was a real career? She had enough money stashed away in her various savings accounts to live comfortably for several years if she decided to slow down or quit writing altogether. And with what her books made monthly, even a significant dip in sales would still net her enough money to cover her business and personal expenses without touching that savings for a while.