Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
When he sees me in the doorway, he freezes. His stormy blue eyes narrow and I feel the heat of his anger hit me right in the solar plexus.
“Where the hell were you?” he asks.
“I…” my voice trails off. This is very different from being in trouble with my parents. With him, knowing I’m in trouble makes my body pulse with electricity.
I’ve known him for two years. He’s my confidant. My friend. It wasn’t until I was twenty years old that he kissed me for the first time. Our relationship is wrong and it tortures him. I see it in his eyes, the way he fights to stay apart from me. I don’t fight it, though. I’m not tortured. The day he kissed me, I knew I never wanted another man to touch me.
Noah is everything to me.
I swallow and walk to him with feet as heavy as lead.
He crosses the room to me, and we meet halfway. He tangles his hands in my thick, dark mane of hair, tugs my head back and bruises my mouth with his, a kiss so hard it takes my breath away. He pulls his mouth away and presses his forehead against mine. “I thought they took you from me,” he says, a tortured whisper that makes tears spring to my eyes. “What the hell were you doing?”
I bite my lip.
“Chandra,” he chides.
“I went out to celebrate Hailey’s birthday,” I falter.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “They were drinking. I waited for them to call a cab or something, and I just lost track of the time.”
He sets his jaw and takes me by the arm. I know what’s coming. He’s threatened me before and popped me on the ass, and hell if I don’t want just this. I need to know what it feels like. I need to know he cares.
He sits heavily on the bench in the hallway, tugs my hand, and I topple straight over his lap, my legs dangling.
“Noah,” I protest, my eyes closing tightly so I can handle the flood of warmth and fear that consumes me. “You can’t.” My protest is weak and futile, and I only offer it because I feel I have to.
He doesn’t respond but pins my hands to my lower back and smacks his hand hard against my ass.
Apparently, he can. The stroke goes straight to my sex. I’ve been primed for this. He gives me four more firm strokes of his palm I feel straight through the thin fabric of my skirt.
“Noah,” I groan. No one’s here. No one will ever know what goes on between us. I feel like I need to protest, though.
With every smack of his palm, I squirm. I wonder if he knows this turns me on, and my cheeks flush at the mere thought. But when I wiggle on his lap, I feel his firm erection against my tummy and I know. It isn’t just me who’s turned on.
He stops, still holding me over his knee.
“When you tell me you’ll come at a certain time, you will not leave me pacing here, worrying that someone hurt you when my calls go unanswered. That they took you. That you’re hurting and alone.”
Shit. My phone was on silent and I missed his calls. I tortured him with my irresponsible silence. Damn, I deserve a harder spanking than this.
“Yes,” I whisper, and to my surprise, I automatically amend it to, “Yes, sir.”
He gives my ass one final spank for good measure before he rights me. Taking my chin in his firm grip, his blazing blue eyes burn into mine. “Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir,” I repeat, my voice shaky and taut with arousal. My panties are soaked, my heart stutters erratically, and I can barely remember my name. “I’m sorry, Noah,” I whisper.
He brushes his lips against mine and when he whispers into my ear, I feel the vibration shudder through my body. “I’m sorry I had to punish you.” But it’s a lie. His cock’s so hard against my ass I wonder if it’s painful.
The door to the bathroom yanks open, tearing me from my memory. I’m turned on replaying it, but it isn’t just the erotic vibe of that first spanking that affects me. It’s more. The shared history brings me comfort, even if it’s buried in pain.
That first spanking he gave me led to so much more. He tied me up and played my body with every twisted, kinky fantasy he harbored, as if having me at his mercy would exorcise his demons. It never did, though. The more he unleashed, the more he wanted. The more I wanted.
I was still twenty-one when he got me pregnant.
But he never knew that. By then, he was gone. And when I lost the baby, I could never bring myself to find him to share the tragedy.