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Before I can reply, his flattened hand, hard as a board, lands with acrackagainst the lower part of my ass, making me hiss in pain.
“Count,” he reminds me.
“One,” I whisper.
Crack!
“Two.”
Crack!The third one lands in exactly the same spot. Is he doing this deliberately? Laying them down one on top of the other to intensify the pain instead of spreading them out? His hand is so huge it catches both cheeks at once, and he’s getting me down low, just above my thighs, right where I sit. The rest of this flight is going to be agony.
“Three.” I suck in a big breath, trying to stop myself from yelling the count, doing my best to bear this stoically but only just succeeding.
Crack!Exactly the same place again.
“Four.” My voice breaks as I squeak the number and I choke on a sob.
Crack! Crack!Both in the same spot again and delivered so quickly I don’t have time to count, there’s no break between them.
“Fivesix!” I grind the numbers out with clenched teeth, blending them together into one word, just like he did with the spanks.
Please let this be over,I beg silently in my head, pleading with the universe or a higher power or whatever might be out there who can help me.Please. Because I can’t take any more.I don’t understand how a spanking can even hurt so much.
I lean my head against the wall, frantically trying to blink back tears, sucking in great big gasps of air, trying to get my breathing under control. All I can focus on is the pain. The sting is intense, it’s so bad, like I’ve sat on a hot stove or been attacked by wasps or something.
“Are you going to be a good girl now?” Jaxon asks, his voice deep and gruff. The sexiest it’s been so far.
It’s not sexy, I tell myself.I don’t love it. I don’t want to hear more of it.It’s not entirely true, but I repeat it anyway, because I know who owns that voice, and I don’t like him at all.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“Good. Now let’s go back to our seats.”
I don’t want to. I want to just hide out in here forever, so I don’t have to face any of the other passengers. Walking back up the aisle, knowing that everyone will know what Jaxon just did to me, is going to be the most mortifying experience of my life. I don’t move. I stay right where I am, my forehead against thewall, my hands on either side of it. My face is flaming, I can feel it.
“Come on, move,” he commands. “We’ve spent enough time in here.”
I shake my head. “You go. Give me a minute.”
But Jaxon grabs hold of my shoulder and pulls, tugging me around to face him. “I don’t think so, Jade. You’re not hiding out in here. You’re coming back to your seat with me, right now, and you’re going to be on your best behaviour for the rest of this flight, or I’ll be dragging you right back in here for a repeat of what just happened. Do you understand?”
There’s no kindness in his tone, or in his eyes, and my whole body shrinks. I’d hoped for a little bit of compassion after what he just did to me, but I don’t see any at all. I need comfort. Cuddles. A tender touch. Anything. But nothing is forthcoming. Jaxon just stares at me hard.
There doesn’t seem to be anything left for me to do, I feel completely deflated. Sad. Sore. Broken. So I nod, and when he unlocks the door and takes my hand, I follow him out of the bathroom and up the aisle, retracing our steps to our seats. I stare at the floor the whole way. Mercifully, the lady sitting next to me has her eyes closed, headphones on, and ignores me completely. She’s either asleep or pretending to be, and that suits me fine. I’m mortified enough without having her acknowledge me in any way.
I whimper as I sit down and beside me, Mr. Asshole smirks. I want to tell him to go to hell. I want to swear at him with everything in me. But somehow, I manage to keep quiet. Mr. Asshole can obviously tell because he catches my eye and winks.
“Good girl, you’re learning.”
Asshole.
CHAPTER 8
Jaxon
Jade falls asleep pretty fast. The fight she put up in the bathroom, along with the emotions of the afternoon, must have worn her out. I like her much better asleep. She’s cute, with locks of her hair coming free of the hair tie she’s restrained it in and falling over her face. Her bratty sassiness is gone and in its place is a young, vulnerable, hurting woman. No one ever before has revved up my protective instincts the way this woman does. Even in all my years in close protection security, nobody has needed a protector as much as this woman. Except it’s not just a protector she needs, it’s so much more. She’s curled up against me, her cheek resting on my shoulder. I’m sure she would be mortified if she could see it—she likes to pretend she’s so big and tough and independent, but that’s so far from the truth. It’s just a façade she pulls around herself, perhaps to shield herself from harm. But I can see right through it. Jade is broken. She needs structure. Stability. Care. Guidance. And I’m exactly the man she needs to provide it.
I’ve just about drifted off myself when the plane bounces around in mid-air, dropping rapidly, rocking sideways, and jumping around like we’re on a space trampoline. Turbulence doesn’t bother me, but it obviously scares the crap out of some of the passengers around me. Screams rend the air. So does the smell of vomit. Ugh. I shudder and screw up my face—this is by far the worst part of flying. Jade better not chuck… It’s one of the few things I cannot deal with.
