She knew there were lots of games people played. Rules. She hadn’t needed to live in the kink community to understand that much. Hell, she’d read that famous trilogy, who hadn’t? Still, formality had never quite been their thing.
There were some new things she’d been thinking about though.
Without turning to face him, she could still see the hint of his reflection in the glass. He hadn’t moved. She let her fingers press the window, feeling the chill. Her nipples tightened, though not from cold.
“My list,” she told him. “It’s gotten very long.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Standing in his briefs with a boner that could have broken bricks, Reese should’ve felt ridiculous. Especially with the makeup lining his eyes—shit, yeah he remembered doing that back in his club kid days, but he was well past that, now. Putting it on had come back to him though. The way to keep the lines smooth but smudgy. His father had always scowled at the sight of him heading out to the clubs, and a huge part of Reese’s reasons for wearing it had been defiance.
His queen had asked it of him, though, so all he felt was pride that he’d pleased her.
Reese had grown pretty used to pride over the years. Arrogance, too, according to more than one of his ex-lovers and most of his business colleagues. What they’d seen in him, though, was different than this…this calm. This sense of peace, of waiting and being ready to please. It was not, exactly, that she was making him a thing and not a person, but that with her, doing this, Reese felt beyond himself. Bigger in a way he never did doing anything else, not making a deal, not pulling a company out of the ground.
Corinne settled herself on the armchair, her ass on the edge of the cushions. She smoothed her hands up and down her thighs and cocked her head to look at him with a small smile. “Take your briefs off and come over here.”
He shucked out of the briefs immediately, instinctively wanting to grab his cock as it bobbed, tapping his belly. In front of her, looking down, he hoped she meant to take him in her mouth, but Corinne had other plans. She gestured.
“Over my lap.”
Reese paused. “Huh?”
“My list. I told you what would happen, there’d be consequences. This is it. Over my knee.”
“I’m too big.”
She gave him another of those wicked smiles that burned him from the inside out. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
He remembered the crack of the ruler on his knuckles. This was something else that should’ve made him feel ridiculous, a schoolboy punishment. At the glance of her gaze at this straining dick, though, he knew there was no way he could pretend to her that he wasn’t completely at her mercy.
“Oh, see?” she murmured, eyeing his cock. “Look how pretty.”
She spoke to him differently when she was like this. Her voice changed. It triggered him to respond even more, letting his hand drift up his shaft so his fingers stroked through the glistening droplet of precome leaking from his cockhead.
Fitting himself onto her lap, though, that was more of a challenge. Awkward, to say the least, with his head hanging down, hands on the floor to support himself, his dick snugged somehow in the space between her knees and his own knees not close enough to the floor to touch. He was too heavy for her, he thought even as the warmth of her hand caressed his bare ass.
“Do I get to know what was on the list?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said as her hand caressed him. “Being argumentative. Speaking poorly of my apartment on Queen Street. You were generous to the driver, but you need to learn to treat the people who provide services to you like people, not servants. Being late—”
“I was early to get you leaving the office.”
“Not that first time, when you came to my house. I told you very specifically, forty-seven minutes. You were late,” she said sternly.
“That shouldn’t count. That was before we came to an agreement.”
“Argumentative,” Corinne said.
“Argumentative is on there twice?” He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of her hand moving over his rear.
“It will be on there every time you argue with me,” she said in that voice that got his cock twitching.
“I want to be better for you,” he told her. “I’ve never said that to anyone else.”
“I’m honored.” Her hand teased the undersides of his butt cheeks, tickling. “So. How many spanks do you think you should get?”
“Ten?”
She swatted him lightly, not nearly hard enough to sting. “You get twelve. To start. I want you to count them, and say ‘thank you, Ma’am’ after each one.”
He laughed because she did, and twisted to look up at her. “You really…okay. Yes, Ma’am.”