thinking your temperature might be running a bit high. That will happen when you’re aroused.”
“Good to know,” I muttered facetiously into the quilted duvet. “So, can I get dressed now?”
“You may get your jammies on and go straight to bed.”
“But it’s only nine-thirty, and Dateline is on in a half hour…”
“I guess you’ll have to catch reruns of the show when it’s airing at an earlier time, because I have a strict rule that lights are out when the clock strikes ten,” he stated in a casual tone.
Watching the door close, I raised one sculpted eyebrow. If I turned the light off and kept the television sound purring at a low volume—there was a good chance he wouldn’t know I was still awake. Falling asleep never came easy to me, and over the years I had practiced two methods that ensured a good night’s sleep.
Television or a heavy dose of self-pleasure.
Having done plenty of research on the life of a submissive, I knew masturbation was not acceptable unless the dominant gave permission—or wanted to participate by the thrill of watching. And although he didn’t mention pleasuring myself was against his house rules…
I figured it probably was.
Volleying the two ideas back and forth in my mind, it seemed watching television might be the safer of two evils—even though he’d just stated my bedtime in his house will be at ten o’clock.
But for God’s sake, I’m a twenty-four-year-old woman, it’s only nine-thirty in the evening and I’m not tired.
Remembering I was in a different time zone, it took me a while to surf the channels—but thankfully, I’d finally found the station. Fluffing the pillows behind me, I exhaled a heavy sigh of satisfaction while reclining my head backward until I heard heavy footsteps bounding down the hall. The door was pushed open, he stood with arms crossed and his profound gaze was locked upon my widened eyes.
Uh-oh.
This burly man didn’t need to utter a word. His expression indicated quite nicely that he intended to be judge, jury and executioner.
As John strode toward me with his hands clasped behind his back, I never thought it would be possible for him to seem larger than his six-foot-four-inch frame. But when he bent down to stare into my eyes, I’d never felt smaller in my life.
“I have rules in this house, young lady.”
“Uh-huh. You read the long list to me during lunch,” I retorted, trying to avoid his intense glare.
“But for some reason, I feel like you’re testing me to see if I’m the real deal.”
“No, John. I’m sure you are.”
He quirked one eyebrow and inclined his head toward mine. “I’d like to be addressed as Sir or Daddy during any type of correction. Haven’t you been told that before?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I said, wondering how far he was going to take his ridiculous display of testosterone levels.
John’s thick index finger tapped the shiny crystal on his watch. “Did you turn the television on right after I walked down the hall? Did you think it was okay to do exactly what I instructed you not to?”
“That’s it? That’s my crime?”
There was no need for him to speak another word because his expression was filled with volumes of disappointment, but he continued anyway. “Your bedtime will be ten o’clock sharp during your stay here, and I’ve already made that quite clear. Have I also mentioned there is rarely a second warning issued for disobedience while you’re under my charge?”
“Yes, you certainly have,” I bit back, my mind whirling from the stunning truth of how my life was about to change for the next week—just as he said it would. But as I watched his hazel eyes darken, those proverbial butterflies started fluttering around in my stomach. Was his stern scolding turning me on?
For fuck’s sake.
“You will lie face down over my lap and take your punishment, little miss.” The deep tone of his Texan accent was filled with authority as he dramatically lifted the gray fabric on each of his pant legs, before making himself comfortable on a supple black leather chair that had no arms.
“Wait a minute. Is this the spanking chair Jake told me about?” I managed through a jagged smile, pleased as punch with my quick sarcasm.
His eyes narrowed as he curled his finger in my direction. “Come closer and see for yourself, my dear.”
While a nervous energy bounded through my body with the realization I was about to be spanked by my publisher’s father, it also occurred to me my ass was naked under my pajama bottoms. Surely, he wouldn’t take my pants down.
“Are you coming, Lori? Because the second time I need to ask, the elastic waist in those pants will be lowered to your knees,” he warned in a husky tone while folding his arms, “and then the spankin’ you deserve will be administered to your bare behind.”
The event that was about to take place seemed surreal as I cleared my throat and made the decision to slowly move toward him. Instantly, he lifted me over his knees, repositioned my bottom until it was tipped upward, and then his large warm hand rested on the small of my back.
“Here’s what will happen when you disobey the rules.”
Instinctively, I reached to shield my covered backside. “Noo, wait!”
“You don’t get to direct how this discipline will be carried out,” he scolded, his voice lowering a notch as he caught my wrist and pinned it to the base of my spine. “It was your decision to defy me, and as a result, this little hide of yours will be spanked good and hard.”
“Jesus, you’re treating me like a fucking five-year-old,” I grated through gritted teeth as the first smack landed on my shuddering behind.
“Oh, and did I mention what will happen when you use nasty language in my home?” His tone was smooth as silk as he hooked his fingers under the elastic waistband of my pajama pants and tugged them down my legs. “Yes, I’m sure I did.”
“Whoa! You can’t do that! I…”
But just as my second thought began, he peppered the bottom of each globe with a hand that didn’t feel human at all.
It felt like a piece of wood.
“Oh, yes, I can, young lady,” John said with a quiet nonchalance before he slapped the backs of my thighs.
I’d always wondered if the description of flesh connecting with flesh really had the same sound as multiple gunshots at close range.
Unfortunately, I’m not wondering anymore.
“Jesus Christ! That hurts! Are you fucking crazy?” I tried my best to buck upward while wiggling away from this solid man
