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“Very well. I will free her before the wedding.” Until then, I needed to get his seed into me, often, and pray I hadn’t inherited Mother’s plight. “But I insist on six weeks to…”get pregnant, “come up with a plan.”
“Six weeks,” Malyr mused, staring into the room for long moments. Quiet. Thinking. Until he noisily pulled the chair out from beneath the desk and turned it to face me, then lowered himself down and gave a pat on his thigh. “Lie down over my lap so we may begin with your atonement.”
“Pardon me?”
“For my sick amusement,” he clarified. “You cannot possibly expect me to settle on you as my bride without sampling thatwillingnessyou mentioned.”
On reflex, my buttocks clenched. I’d never been spanked a day in my life, but Risa had fruitlessly threatened to ‘drape me over her lap’ often enough that I knew it was what he had in mind.
Muscles stiff, I nodded, forcing my feet toward him one wobbly step at a time. If this was what it took, then so be it.
My knees liquified once I stood beside him, the way I folded over at the waist and sunk my torso onto his legs—the only thing that saved them from buckling. Two weeks ago, I would have dreaded the humiliation of this. But now…? I feared the physical impact. How hard would he strike?
Ruffles of silk and cotton ghosted up along the back of my legs as Malyr pushed up my skirts, exposing my buttocks, letting the chill of the evening coax shivering bumps from my skin. “Reach down and grab the chair legs. Hold on to them.”
Nerve endings tingling with dread and trepidation, I reached for the chair legs, curling my fingers around them with a strangling grip. I braced for his first strike with such intensity—every single muscle in my body tense and quickly tiring—I wasn’t prepared for the gentle caress of his hand that came. How he glided his palm over my flesh or raked over my skin with the back of his nails.
“You redden and bruise so easily… It is quite a beautiful thing to watch,” he murmured and shifted beneath me, clearly discomforted by his erection that pressed into one of my ribs. That was promising. “Hold very still, Galantia.”
The warmth of his hand disappeared, only to come back down with an echoing swat and a flare of scalding heat that set my body ablaze. It ripped a silent scream from me, all air bursting from my lungs. I was so stunned by the brutal, violent pain, I didn’t even hear the door behind me open.
Only when footsteps replaced the smack of another strike did the tremors twitch along my muscles as if I wanted to roll off Malyr’s lap. The gait was too heavy, too unhurried to be Lorn’s. Which only offered a marginal relief since I’d wanted no audience at all…
“I thought we had an agreement.”
The sound of Sebian’s voice accelerated my pulse, making me lift my head, trying to turn and look back at him.What agreement?
Malyr pressed three fingertips into the back of my skull, turning my head forward and pushing it down at the same time. “What can I say? She came to me, wanting to atone.”
“Because she just wouldn’t fucking listen and stay in my chamber like I had told her to…” I didn’t need to see Sebian in my periphery to know that those fingers rubbing at the back of my neck belonged to him, caring, reassuring. “That true, sweetheart? You want to atone?”
Even when he continued toward the desk, positioning himself less than six feet away in front of me, I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him. Too much awkwardness. Too much wondering what he was thinking, finding me like this, draped over Malyr’s lap with my asshole winking at him in greeting.
I nodded.
“Well, then…” Sebian leaned with his backside against the desk, crossing his outstretched legs. “By all means, don’t let my presence distract you.”
ChapterTwenty-Three
Galantia
Present day, Deepmarsh Castle, Malyr’s chambers
For nineteen years, pain had been a stranger.
Malyr acquainted me, letting his merciless swats turn my rear into a blazing inferno. The most vicious of them repeatedly landed on the same spot, sending my entire body into such convulsions, I barely managed to suck in a breath. For someone who’d gulped down two cups of wine, his precision was terribly accurate.
Worse were the strikes that landed between my legs and how they reminded me of my brokenness, making me buck against his thigh, searching for pleasure beyond the pain. It wasn’t an easy thing to confess, how I sensed myself going slick, but… gods! I was wet. Wet and aching!
Aching for those burning tingles that made me feel how life coursed through my heated veins. But most of all, I ached for Malyr’s shockingly controlled touch. I sensed it in the brief pauses that followed each swat, the reliable pattern of where he struck, the even rhythm of his hand. Even through the pain—severe enough I worked up a sweat—this didn’t feel like atonement.
This felt like attention.
Ardent, undivided attention.
Gradually, I lifted my gaze to Sebian, only to find that he, too, was engrossed. He kept his smoldering green eyes on me, his lips parted, his breathing ragged with how his brown cuirass constantly shifted with it. Did this anger him? Bemuse him? Arouse him?
His hand answered that question, lowering to the leather ties on his breeches before wrapping around thick, swollen flesh. Sebian freed his cock and slowly ran his fist along his shaft, squeezing the reddish-purple head. Gods, the sight shouldn’t curl in my belly the way it did…
