Page 38 of Rockland

He yawns. Then he puts his hands on his hips. Locking our gazes, he says, “You know I don’t give warnings.”

I gulp. He’s not spanked me again since he arrived. I’ve been a perfectly behaved woman—with the one exception of that naughty night he’d made me bring myself off in his presence.

I take a few steps back.

He’s across the room and over to me before I can protest. He pulls me through the doorway and over to his chair. Props his bare foot up on the ottoman.

His knee is bent. His right thigh now the perfect height to throw me over it. I’m on tiptoe, my stomach presses into his hard quad. He easily tugs down my flannel jams. I’ve got on nothing underneath—as he’s commanded.

His hand swats my bare right cheek. The spank comes from an angle and instead of his usual paddle-like smack, it leaves a stinging warmth that goes right to my pussy. I say, “Ow!” but it doesn’t really hurt. It feels good. Tingling and warm. His hand does the same little trick to my left cheek.

Both sides sting and now my tummy clenches.

“Little girls who don’t listen get their bottoms warmed before bed.”

I hold in a moan. He swats again. On the right side. Just like before. I’m gushing. And he’s saying, “When I tell you it’s bedtime, what does that mean?”

“Go to bed?” Now he’s spanking right, left, right left. With those little stingy swats. They’re driving me wild and I want to squirm. To find some release for the tension building between my legs. But I don’t want him to know what he’s doing to me. It would be humiliating. After all, this is strictly a business relationship. A simple enactment of the hierarchy, right? My core tightens, telling me differently.

“I’m going easy on you because I know you’ve been spoiled in the past. But rest assured the next time I tell you to get to bed and you aren’t under those covers within two minutes, you’ll be sleeping on your tummy. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Sir.”

He gives my ass one good smack right over the center. “Now get yourself up to bed.”

He lifts me from his leg. Straightens me up. Leaves me standing there, pants down over my ass.

He picks up his computer. Sits back down in the armchair. Puts on the glasses and goes back to work.

I quickly slip my clothes back into place, covering up the flesh I know is now light pink in color.

I go to leave the room.

But I just can’t.

I know I’m risking a real spanking—on that will have me in tears and sleeping uncomfortably on my stomach. But I hover in that doorway. Staring at him.

He looks up at me over those glasses. Examines my face. Takes them back off. Tosses them onto the table. Puts his hand up to his brow. Closes his eyes and brings his fingers together over his forehead. The way he does when he’s exasperated.

I feel my bottom lip sticking out. My voice is tiny, soft as I say, “Aren’t you at least going to tuck me in?”

He looks up, surprised. His features soften. He stands from the chair, closing the computer. He says, “I guess I’m not getting any work done tonight. Am I?”

I bite my lip and wait. Hoping he’ll come to me. Hoping beyond hope he’ll take me upstairs. Stay with me. Kiss me and cuddle me. Tuck me in. Then crawl under the covers to join me.

He’s looking me over. What is he thinking? My stomach’s knotting and queasy. He’s up, moves toward me. Is inches from me. He looks down at me, staring at the lip my teeth are sunk into. There’s a look of desire in his eyes—I almost think he wants to kiss me.

Then he’s got his strong arms locked around the middle of my thighs. He’s lifting me up, throwing me over his shoulder. He’s saying, “Looks like you’re going to need a ride.”

I’m squealing with laughter. Clutching at what I can reach of his arms. I’m upside down and he’s jogging—jogging with me over his shoulder—up the stairs. I’m bouncing, my breasts pressed against his back, giggling. We reach the landing and he’s not even winded. He gives my ass a hearty slap. Carries me over to my side of the bed.

He bends over, delivering me onto the mattress with an ‘oompf.’ I land on my bottom. He lifts up the comforter and tells me sternly, “Get on in there.” But there’s a smile on his face when he says it.

I scoot into place. Lie my head down on the pillow. Curl up on my side, facing him. Wait for him to tuck the covers around my chin.

His gaze is soft as he stares. His lips part as if he wants to say something, then he gives a shake of his head. He pulls the covers up and over my shoulders. He tucks them in beneath my chin—just as I imagined him doing. He leans down, so close his beard brushes my skin. He kisses the top of my head, as he does every night. He whispers, “Goodnight, princess.” He hovers there a moment too long. As if he wants to say something, do something.

Anticipation roils in my belly. Falling to disappointment as I watch him walk away.