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For the longest time, he just looked. She was as beautiful as he imagined. Her legs were short but pleasing. Heart-shaped hips curved up, dipping in at her waist. Her perky breasts were small. They fit her size perfectly. If he spanned his hand across her chest, he would be able to just barely grip them both. She was a handful in more ways than one.
Thin, pale scars circled both nipples where the pink areola met creamy skin, barely visible at all. He estimated that in a year or two, they would disappear completely. He longed to ask about them, but he knew this wasn’t the time. At least he understood her stony expression.
He slid his fingers along her cheek until he cupped it in his palm. Because she was so much shorter than he, he didn’t have to do more than lean forward to brush his lips against hers. He wanted to kiss her slowly, tell her without words that he could handle whatever secrets she hid.
But he was unprepared for the electricity that jumped between them, singeing him to the core. A loud moan rumbled from deep in his chest, filling the room. Her hand shot out and tangled in his hair, and her lips parted to let him deeper.
He drowned in that first kiss, chasing wave after wave of sweet bliss until he forgot how to breathe. She broke away and collapsed against him. Short bursts of her hot breath fanned his skin, and her breasts heaved, brushing against his chest.
“Damn. You’re good at that too.”
She sounded too disappointed for his ego to stand many more of her compliments. He stood, dumping her to the floor. She scrambled to her feet and turned her fiery glare on him.
“Take your shoes off and bend over the desk. You definitely didn’t learn your lesson.” If he knew his little firecracker as well as he thought he did, she wouldn’t want him to treat her any differently just because he’d seen a few puzzling scars.
Her eyes flashed, but he read the relief behind them. She lifted her chin, jutting it at him as she kicked off her shoes. “You’re not man enough to teach me a lesson.”
He couldn’t stop half of his mouth from forming a smile. Yes, he definitely preferred this undiluted attitude. Without a word, he gripped her by the back of the neck and forced her to bend over the desk. Her luscious ass bore no traces of the spanking he had so recently delivered. Obviously he had gone too easy on her.
He needed something that would deliver more bite than his hand. Being more into role-playing than BDSM, he hadn’t asked to have paddles or other implements meant to please a masochist, and he never wore a belt. The desk had been equipped with a phone, papers, and a stapler. What other authentic items might he find in a drawer? As a last-ditch effort, he yanked open a drawer.
The first drawer revealed a box of condoms, pads of paper, pens, and pencils. The second contained files. Another had folded clothes in it. He recognized the outfit he’d requested for her to wear when she played the part of his secretary. Had she hidden it there or had Oasis placed it there? Either way, it was a good thing he’d stumbled upon it.
On the other side, the top drawer yielded staples, pushpins, and other office supplies. In the back, he found a wooden ruler. It would have to do.
In the course of his search, he had slid his hand from her neck to the center of her back. He put a little more force behind the hold because he knew she was going to protest with more than a scream.
He tested the implement against the tender skin of his forearm. It smarted and left behind a sting, but it didn’t actually hurt.
Turning back to Mia, he ran a hand over the smooth skin of her ass and suppressed the urge to caress it with his lips. “This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me, babe. Feel free to scream as loud as you want. Let all that attitude out.”
Knowing better than to wait for her to figure out what he’d been doing in the drawers, he brought the ruler down sharply on her ass. She bucked and screeched, but he had a firm hold on her. He waited a second, giving her a chance to use the safe word. When she said nothing, he lifted the ruler. It had left a bright pink, rectangular streak on her skin.
He traced his fingertip over it. She hissed, but the scent of her arousal betrayed her true reaction.
Mia had some issues with body image, and those scars on her breasts held the key to why she hid her body behind baggy clothes and prim manners. He didn’t mind that she always pulled her hair into a ponytail or that she almost never wore makeup. He preferred natural beauty, which she had in spades.
If it took a day of spanking her to get her to let go of whatever ailed her, then he would gladly spank her until he had no feeling left in his arm. Then he would switch sides. He wasn’t as good with his left hand, but he would manage.
Lifting the ruler a little higher, he concentrated the next blow over her other cheek. He rained smacks over her ass until she stopped fighting and her angry screeches turned to quiet sobs.
