“Do I look like I’m joking? You have three seconds to get back inside, or you’ll be sorry.”
Charlotte muttered some unflattering words about her husband under her breath, but obeyed. She walked up the steps to the cabin, gave him a dirty look, and shoved past him to the kitchen. “You don’t have to speak to me like I’m a child, you know,” she flung over her shoulder.
Max closed the front door. “Maybe I do, since you’re pitching a fit like a child.”
Tim eyed the two of them warily, then excused himself to his room, clearly uncomfortable to be present while they argued. Max sighed and sat in his armchair. He picked up his book on the side table and tried to read while Charlotte banged around the kitchen. She made as much noise as possible while she rearranged the pots and pans for no reason other than to give her hands something to do and to annoy Max. She transferred the silverware into a different drawer, dropping in each spoon, knife, and fork in it one by one from a height that made the clanging noise louder than necessary.
Max closed his book with a thud. “Are you nearly finished making that ruckus?”
Charlotte responded by slamming a cupboard door.
“I’ve had enough, Charlotte,” he said in a low, even voice.
Charlotte spun to face him. “And I’ve had enough of your blasted nannying! I can’t live like this. I feel like a prisoner.” She knew she was acting childish, but she felt angry and unable to contain her fury.
Max set his book on the table beside him and spoke gently. “I know it’s not easy, Charlotte, but it won’t be like this forever.”
His calm demeanor only infuriated her further. “I can’t take another day of it!” She grabbed the closest thing in her reach, a plate, and launched it across the room. It shattered into pieces when it hit the wall.
Max looked as shocked as she felt. She could hardly believe what she’d just done, and she gaped at the mess on the floor. Max strode to her, grasped her chin, and forced her to meet his flashing eyes. “I’ve endured your ill temper,” he said through gritted teeth, “but now you’ve used up my supply of patience for today. I suggest you calm yourself.”
She shook her face out of his hand and turned to walk away, but he took hold of her arms. She tried to shrug him off, but her flailing did nothing to free her. He continued to hold onto her with his unyielding hands. “Settle down, Charlie!”
Her inability to get loose made her feel angrier and more frantic. Since her arms were of no use to hit him, she tried to kick him, but Max anticipated it and stepped to the side. He grunted and spun her around. “Wanna provoke me, do you? How do you think that’s going to end for you?”
“Don’t!” she cried as he held her arm and landed his palm across her bottom. It was a sharp, stinging smack. The force of it stunned her into rational thought. She stilled and braced herself, expecting another. Instead, Max tugged her to their room. Once inside with the door shut, he sat on the bed and toppled her over his lap. Without a word, he yanked up her skirts. She offered no resistance. On some level, she knew she needed to be punished, and she wanted him to take control of the situation. His next words told her he understood exactly what she needed and wanted.
“With that kind of outrageous behavior, Charlie, you might as well be begging me for a spanking. I’d be remiss not to give you one.” He pushed her drawers to her ankles, then hauled her forward to lie fully over his left thigh. He draped his other leg over hers, pinning her into place.
Charlotte suspected with dismay that she was about to endure a spanking severe enough to necessitate Max restraining her movements. She was right. She shrieked when his heavy palm first connected with her bare skin and let out a long wail that lasted throughout most of the punishment. From the first swat to the last, Max’s hand descended swiftly and without mercy. It was the shortest spanking he’d ever given her—less than a minute—but it was also the hardest, and by the end she sagged over his knee, exhausted and aware of little but the burn she felt on her punished backside and the sensitive area where her bottom met her thighs.
She heard his stern voice through the pain. “Are you finished with your tantrum now, or do you need some more swats?”
She wiped the tears from her cheek. “I’m finished,” she whimpered, fully subdued.
He slowly relaxed the leg that pinned her in place and lifted her legs to rest over both of his. He caressed her bottom and thighs. After some time, he asked, “Do you feel better now, darlin’?”
“Yes. Thank you, Max.”