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The cab of this car is so spacious he has way too much room to trap me. The man is a pro. God, is this why my dad designs the interiors of all his cars?
Right now I want to lean down and bite him right in the thigh. Hard enough so I can get away.
Use your words, Paisley.
“I cannot, in a million years, imagine this is what my dad had in mind when he asked you to keep me safe.” My words come out in a shriek.
He holds me tightly. “His exact words were that you need discipline.”
This feels so, so wrong.
Oh God. The feel of his hard thigh, his strong leg and arms clamped around me, our bodies tangled so close I can feel his heart beating. His hand smooths over my ass. The only thing between my bare skin and him is a thin layer of spandex. It seems as if every nerve ending of my skin is on high alert, responding to his light touch.
“Again—I do not think this is what he had in—Ow!” Fire spreads over my ass where his hand has planted itself. My sputtering words come out in a bleat of shock. “Y—you spanked me!”
“If psychologist doesn’t work out, you could be a detective.” He gives a deep chuckle, and I can feel it rumbling through his chest where I’m pressed up against his strong warmth.
“Ugh!” I wriggle against his weight, my belly rubbing against his thighs as I try to get away.
Is that… no… couldn’t be.
I adjust my weight, shifting away. My movement only serves to make the firmness poke in my belly harder. Heat and shame rush to my face. He’s getting off on this. He’s totally turned on. I feel his cock rousing, excited by my punishment.
This knowledge somehow starts a wicked stirring between my thighs, a wanting ache filling my womb. He rubs his open palm over the still stinging spot on my ass. I shift my weight again, holding back a moan. He’s making me wet. I press my thighs together in denial. Shame licks at the back of my neck like flames.
“I’m guessing by now you get the picture.” He hugs my waist tighter. “You think you’re up for sitting up and having a conversation about how things are going to go from now on?”
“You mean for the next few weeks.”
“Until you’re told otherwise.” He strokes my curves. “But I see you’re still sassy and not quite ready to talk.”
His hand lifts and before I can argue, it’s crashing back down on my ass, a loud smacking sound echoing through the cab of the car. I register the noise before I feel the pain.
But then, “Ugh!” The man’s hand is about as hard as I imagine one of those wooden paddles from the olden days would be. He spanks me again, then again, each time landing pain in a new area, rapidly spreading over my skin.
“Okay, okay!” I try to wriggle away, willing the fire on my ass to ease. “I’m ready to talk!”
“Great.” He gives my ass a gentle pat. “I’m glad you came around.”
He releases me. I sit up as quickly as I can, scooting as close to the passenger door as possible. I ignore him as he slides back into his seat, adjusting his pants. I tug down my cropped hoodie that’s ridden up over my sports bra and smooth a hand over my now messy braids.
My tongue feels swollen, like it’s glued my mouth shut.
I feel silly, embarrassed, awkward. Yet can’t deny the heat pulsing between the tops of my thighs. It makes me clench my sex. He’s so pervasive in this enclosed space, imprinted on my body, his massive frame filling out the cab of the car. It feels as if his very being is expanding, consuming every inch of the air around me.
Till I can’t breathe.
I can’t have this conversation. Not about what’s just happened. Not with him.
I’ve got to get out of here.
I grab the passenger side door just as he goes to hit the locks. His deep voice rumbles through the cab as I throw the door open. “Paisley. Don’t.” He grabs for me, the tips of his fingers brushing against my arm, but he’s too late.
I fly from the car.
I left my bag on the floor of the car but there was no time. I run for the woods. It’s a dark night, clouds covering the moon. I’m well-practiced at running through the woods at night but this feels different, running faster with no light from my cell phone to guide me, someone chasing me.
My heart races, pounding so hard it feels like it’s risen to my throat. I want to look back over my shoulder to get a sense of how close he is, but I’ve seen enough scary movies to know that’s the moment I’ll trip over a root, face-plant, and he’ll catch up to me.
