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9
Mare
“Put me down!” I shouted for the second time, throwing myself back and fighting against Ian’s hold even harder as he walked me through the house, down the hallway, and back into the bedroom I’d originally woken up in.I can’t fucking believe him.
“Gladly,” he replied, dumping me on the bed. I bounced once on the soft comforter then scrambled up to lunge off the mattress, but not before his hands encircled my waist and brought me up short. I watched as Jensen and Archer strode to the doorway, each leaning on one side of the door jamb with their arms crossed in identical poses.
“Do you want us to stay and watch?” Jensen asked.
Ian nodded as he attempted to position me—still struggling and fighting—over his lap. “Just until she’s learned her lesson and apologizes to you.”
“Ian—” I started, slowing my attempts to get away until I stopped entirely. Being maneuvered into the sinfully delicious position fizzled out my anger, my body responding almost instantly to being laid out over his strong thighs.Fucking keep your head on straight, Mare,I chastised, putting up one final fight. “I don’t think this is—”
“I didn’t ask you to think,” he said, cutting me off as he finally shifted me into a position I’d taken several times before—usually over minor infractions and almost always as a precursor to something hot, sweaty, and delicious. I didn’t expect anything hot or delicious to happen this time, but I could already feel myself begin to sweat. It collected at the top of my spine and trickled down to the small of my back. Anticipation tightened my core. “This is what happens when you lie to us. I know it’s been a while, but you should know better, America.”
His hands went to the tops of the too big sweatpants and pulled them down. I gasped as he uncovered my ass but left the tiny thong. Not that it’d do much good. My head popped up, but his palm grazed the back of it, pushing it back down until all that was in my sights were his booted feet against the floor.
“Enough, Mare,” he said, his hand gently caressing the flesh of my ass. I felt myself tense—in preparation or anticipation, I wasn’t sure. “You remember the drill?”
I didn’t respond until I felt the sharp burn of a slap on my ass. “Yes!” I snapped. “I know the drill.”
I sensed more than saw him nod. “Good girl,” he said. “Count for me.”
His hand arched down and slapped my ass again. “One,” I said through gritted teeth. Another slap. “Two.” His palm met my ass, never seeming to hit the same place more than once. What started as light stings soon became a fiery burn that spread from my asscheeks down to my thighs when he started in on those. I’d reached thirty by the time it became too much. I was panting and sweating, aching for more. He spanked me, and I counted each strike, taking a strained moment to repeat the number he demanded. Over and over again, until I fell back into an age old rhythm that had once felt so natural. I’d forgotten what it was like. Being under his hand, letting him drive me into this place of safety and submission.
Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes, but not from pain, and the hole that had been left gaping in my life started to fill despite knowing I couldn’t give in. We reached forty by the time I was ready to say what he wanted, but I didn’t. Instead, I let him push it another ten slaps, and then I felt his hand still over my backside.
“Are you ready, Mare?” he asked quietly.
Without speaking, I nodded.
“What do you have to say to us?”
“I-I’m sorry.” The words came out as a whisper, my voice thready. “I’m sorry,” I repeated as I felt my breathing even out.
Ian turned me and sat me up in his lap, my burning ass against his jeans as he cupped my head and pulled it against his chest. I felt him nod, his chin bumping against my head, and I assumed it was to let Jensen and Archer know that he wanted to be alone with me now. I clutched his shirt, holding onto him as if at any moment he might slip away from me again. I shoved my nose into his neck, inhaling his warm and sultry scent of leather and musk. God, how I’d missed him. How I’d missed all three of them.
So many nights had been spent lying awake, just thinking about what would happen if they'd ever found me again. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that one of the first things he'd chosen to do was spank me. I remembered the first time he'd done it.
“Mare,”Ian’s voice woke me, his calloused fingers brushing over my bare shoulder blades, “time to get up.”
I grumbled unintelligibly, pressing my face into the pillow. I ached in the most delicious way from the night before, and in that moment, all I wanted to do was keep sleeping.
“Come now, Mare, don’t think I’m done with you,” he whispered, his breath drifting over my back, lips brushing over my goosebump-covered skin.
“Oh, really?” I murmured, turning to look at him over my shoulder. “Why don’t you wake me up then?”
“Quite feisty this morning, aren’t you?” His chuckle reverberated against my flesh. “Come on, baby. Turn over.”
“What if I don’t want to?” I countered, wanting to see just how far I could push him. The night before had given me a glimpse at who Ian was: domineering, confident, and always in control of both the situations and the people around him. Heradiatedthat command, making me want to do as he ordered. I found myself craving it, but right now, I was feeling a bit defiant.
“Then you’ll learn what happens when you act like a brat.” Cocking a brow, I turned my face to observe him stare at me, our eyes locked in a standoff. His gaze didn’t move, and he didn’t blink, his fingers trailing over the back of my thigh through the sheet until he inched the material down my ass. Only when he cupped my ass did his lips quirk up into a cocky smirk. “Last chance to do as I’ve asked.”
Instead of responding, I just shrugged, anticipation coiling tight within my core. His smirk smoothed out as he moved with surprising speed. A breathy gasp left me as my body was yanked from the warmth of the bed and I was folded over the side, the carpet cool against the balls of my feet.
“Count them,” he commanded. Confusion had me turning to look up at him, but his hand pushed against my shoulder blades, holding me down against the bed. Without warning, a stinging slap descended, the burn spreading over my ass as he spanked me. My jaw dropped, blood pumping as the sting melted, a wash of heat flooding my core. “Count them, America.” America. Not baby. Not Mare. He was serious.
“One.” My voice was barely there, a whisper in the cool room. A shiver trailed down my spine as I waited, knowing there were more to come.
After a moment, another slap came down this time on my thigh. A different location, but the same fuel to stoke the raging inferno that was building. I squirmed unsuccessfully in his steely grip.
“Two,” I said.
It continued in an agonizingly slow pace, and by the time we reached ten, I was a trembling, achy mess. The soreness of my ass mixed with the control I’d given him soaked into me. I felt dizzy with a new kind of sensation—one I’d never felt before. So much so that when he started talking, I had to mentally shake myself from the fog that had descended over my mind.
“Now, come here,” he commanded, his hand moving from my back to allow me to move. Doing as he asked, I struggled to stand and turned to face him. “Good girl,” he whispered sinfully.
I would let him spank me whenever he damn well wanted if I could be his good girl.
