“Shit!”
“I know,” Mark said. His tone was neither placating nor sympathetic.
She tried to twist her hands free, and he spanked her harder. She screamed.
“Lie still, Cadence,” he ordered, smacking her a third time. He grew hard watching her plump little bottom bounce.
Control. Control it.
“I get it!” she cried. “I get it, and I won’t ever do those things again!”
He struck her bare ass over and over until he made her cry. She cried! And while she didn’t want him to know it, she secretly reveled in it—the tears running steadily from her eyes to soak the comforter. She was crying. Feeling something. After a month! Feeling!
He eased up, rubbing her gently to erase the sting. She realized she liked it, and thought that was wrong.
“Stop doing that!” she snapped.
“Fine,” he replied, and slapped her again.
He watched the blood rush to her cheeks, reddening all the places his hand touched her. He realized it wasn’t enough. He wanted to see a print. She deserved a fucking handprint. Maybe two.
He spanked her harder and listened as she squealed into the comforter. And again and again until she cried out his name.
“Yes?” he asked, hand poised for another assault.
“I won’t ever do it again,” she gasped.
“I know, Sweet Cheeks.”
Her body tensed—reacting to his words. Was he trying to be clever? She thought so, and she let out a string of the filthiest words she could imagine. They mingled with the tears that pooled in the corners of her lips.
Cadence swore Mark spanked her all afternoon. It felt like the whole afternoon to her. In reality, he spanked her for two minutes, making sure her bottom was significantly red and swollen when it was all over. And he succeeded in leaving a perfect handprint. He imagined it burned painfully.
He released her hands and sank down on the bed beside her. She remained still, unsure of his next move.
He sighed. “Fucking you doesn’t work.”
“What?” She spoke into the comforter, unable to look at him.
He smirked. “You know. The classroom closet?”
Her face burned, remembering. Even after all this time together, she still blushed about that afternoon.
“I figured since that didn’t work, I needed to try something else,” Mark said. He pushed his hand through his unruly hair. “I gave you two months to walk all over me.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“You worried me to death.”
“I know.”
“I was frantic. Every time you stayed the night somewhere I thought someone stole you away from me.” He felt a tiny bit of resentment creep back into his heart and tried hard to push it down. Otherwise, he’d spank her again.
“I know,” she replied.
“Then show me,” Mark said.
Cadence lifted her face. “You wanna have sex after that?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I need you to love me. You haven’t loved me in two months.”
“Don’t try to make me feel guilty for feeling hurt and angry.”
“I’m not. I told you I understood. But I’m asking you now—if you’ve really forgiven me—to please love me.”
He pulled her to a sitting position. Her backside screamed, but she remained silent. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
Mark stood and undressed, watching her closely. She averted her eyes, like she was embarrassed by his nakedness. He understood that, too. They had gone so long without connecting that it seemed natural she’d turn away. He watched her face flush crimson, thinking their lovemaking might feel like the first time, and he wondered if she thought the same.
“I don’t remember,” she cried softly. “I’m scared.”
“Me too.” And he was. But he’d work through his fear because he had to have her right then. He’d make up for punishing her. He hoped she’d do the same.
He leaned forward and kissed her gently, encouraging her to lie on her back, nudging her legs apart.
“My butt hurts,” she said into his mouth, and he chuckled.
“I’m not sorry, Cadence. But I know you’ll work your hardest to try to make me.”
She pouted and pushed him off her. “Go sit against the headboard.”
He complied, and she climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs. No pressure on her bottom, and she breathed relief.
“You’re wet,” he said.
“Am not,” she replied, but she knew it was a lie. She was mortified that his spankings forced a sexual response. Blatant and dripping. She couldn’t hide it when her legs were spread on top of him.
He reached for her shirt and pulled it over her head. She didn’t like being so exposed to him. She was embarrassed, and instinctively covered her breasts.
“Why won’t you let me look at you?” he asked. “You’re beautiful.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. He didn’t press her. He let her stay as she was, hands hiding her breasts.