CHAPTER SEVEN
Lori
My heart is racing and I am both aroused and terrified. A spanking? Why am I even considering this? Why? It’s impossible that I would and yet, I am. I really am, but it’s crazy. “I don’t know you,” I whisper. “I can’t—”
“You can,” he says, cupping my head, and sliding his cheek to mine, as if he feels my need for this tiny moment of visual privacy. “It will be good,” he whispers by my ear, his breath a warm tease on my neck. “So damn good, sweetheart.”
“Says the man giving the spanking. Says the one—”
“In control?” he asks, pulling back to look at me. “No. I’m not in control. You are. You decide if I do this. You decide if you want that kind of escape.”
“I’m not into pain. I’m sorry, but—”
“It’s not about pain, Lori. It will sting at most. It’s about escape. It’s about the freedom to be vulnerable for just a little window of time when you don’t dare any other time.”
That he knows this about me, is unbelievable. He doesn’t know me. How can he know this?
“It’s about the adrenaline and the high and the way we’re into what is happening right here and now, that nothing else exists.”
“And if I don’t want to do this?”
“We fuck and we enjoy it,” he says simply, no hesitation in him, and I sense that he means it. There’s no pressure. I really feel that from this man.
“And if I do?”
“Then I’ll make sure you enjoy it, sweetheart. Really enjoy it.”
This is intimate. It’s control I am handing him, that I wouldn’t allow anyone I know, and with good reason. I know them. They could use it against me. They could twist it and me with it, and— “I’m not—”
He kisses me. “Then we won’t,” he says softly.
“Going to see you again,” I finish.
He pulls back and arches a brow. “But you’ll let me spank you? Is that what you’re saying?”
I answer in my own head first:
No consequences.
No names.
Him in control.
Not me.
For once, not me.
“Do it,” I whisper, my heart about to explode in my chest. “But don’t give me time to think about it. Don’t—”
He kisses me, a deep, long, drugging kiss before he says, “I won’t just do it. That’s punishment. That’s pain. That’s not how a spanking for pleasure works. It’s erotic play and thinking about it, anticipating it, is part of the high.”
“No room for anything but here and now,” I say, repeating his words, embracing those words.
“Exactly,” he agrees. “And we both know that’s what you’re looking for tonight. And I get it, Lori. That’s why people play these kinds of games, for pleasure and escape.”
“So, you—you make a habit of playing these games?”
“Not a habit,” he assures me. “But I was a member of a club right out of law school,” he says. “It was—an intense time for me for many reasons. I needed an uncomplicated release that didn’t fuck with my head afterward.”
It feels like a personal confession I shouldn’t welcome, but I do. I’m curious about him. More than I wish I was curious about him. “This kind of play has a place,” he gives me a lift of his lips, a hint of a smile, “it works for many of us who need control, and therefore, fail miserably at drug and alcohol abuses.”
He scoots us to the edge of the chair and then takes a knee in front of me. “We’re both going to want to fuck when it’s over. That means I need to put that condom on now.” He brushes his lips over mine and stands up, leaving me naked, and on the edge of my soon-to-be spanked seat, quite literally. I have a moment when I want to fold my arms across my chest, but I force myself to resist the urge. Tonight is about being daring, unapologetically in charge of my desires, and I don’t feel out of control. I said yes. I made this decision. I want to experience new things, and do so with this man.
Cole reaches into his back pocket and produces his wallet, removing a foil package before tossing the wallet on the coffee table. I grip the cushion on either side of me, aware that my breasts are thrust forward, aware that his eyes rake over them, so aware that my thighs squeeze together while I wait for what comes next, anticipate what comes next.
My gaze lifts to his and what I find is not dominant, alpha attitude, despite the fact that he’s naturally dominant; I don’t find this revelation of a spanking to create a new dynamic between us of dominant and submissive. Instead, he gives me a wink, his lips curving ever so slightly. “Quid pro quo, right, sweetheart? Now you get to watch me undress.”
I’m surprised at how easily I laugh. “A little late,” I say, “but yes.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises, making fast work of his button and zipper before sliding his pants and his underwear down in one long motion.
Then he’s all mine to view, long, lean muscle, and rippling abs, and then, of course, there is his impressive erection jutting forward between us. My gaze jerks from it to him and he arches a brow. “Do I get your approval?” he asks.
“I’m still deciding,” I reply, surprised again, at how easily I tease him, how at ease I am while naked with a stranger who’s about to spank me. “I’ll put the condom on for you and let you know after I’m done.”
“Oh no, sweetheart,” he says, tearing open the package and dropping it on the floor. “I’m willing to admit my weaknesses, and your hand on my cock will be one of them. You touch me like that, and I’ll forget the spanking and fuck you now.” He rolls on the condom into place and in an instant, he’s pulled me to my feet, his hands tangled in my hair in that erotic, rough way he does, and I like it. I like it so much that I am instantly weak in the knees.
“Have you changed your mind?” he asks, his hand cupping my backside, his erection at my hip.
“No,” I say, tangling my fingers in the dark wisp of hair on his chest, and no less gently than he holds my own hair. “I have not changed my mind.”
“Good,” he says. “Then here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to kiss you and when I’m done, I’m going to sit down on the chair. You’re going to sit down next to me on your knees, facing my lap.”
“Can we stop talking now please?” I demand. “Can we just—”
He kisses me, his tongue licking into my mouth, and it’s like something wild is unleashed in me. I want him. I want him now, and I press into him, hold onto him, touch him. I don’t even remember the moment he sits down and drags me with him. Or how my knees settle against his thigh. Because he’s still kissing me, and his hand is on my breast, and mine is on his thigh. But then his lips part mine and his teeth scrape my lip and he says, “You’re going to lay down across my lap, sweetheart.”
“I am?” I ask, and then quickly amend with, “I am.” And with those words I can feel the adrenaline coursing through me, the high, the rush. The fear that is a bit like being on a rollercoaster, a moment before the plunge. I hate rollercoasters, but I don’t hate this.
“And then,” he continues. “I’m going to take my time. I’m going to make sure you’re ready to come, on the edge of orgasm, to the point you almost forget the spanking. And that’s when it’s going to happen.”
He presses his cheek to mine. “Three times. I’ll warn and then it will happen, with no pause in between. Count with me and you’ll know what to expect. Understand, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. He keeps calling me that and I like it too much. “Yes.” I say.
He pulls back and studies me, as if he needs to confirm I’m really in this all the way. He must see what I feel that I am, that I can’t turn away from this, and don’t want to turn away, because he kisses me again. And then he strokes my cheek, with tenderness that defies what he’s about to do. “Now,” he orders softly.
Now.
Now.
Now.
The word radiates through me.
Now. He’s going to spank me now and I wait for panic to overwhelm me, but it doesn’t come. Yes, I’m nervous. Yes, I’m even a little scared but I’m tingling all over, warm, aroused. More aroused than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I lower myself across his lap.