Page 90 of To Catch a Sub

“Am I right?”

She hesitated.

Landon pinched the sensitive skin on the back of her upper arm. Colette yelped.

“Am I?” he demanded.

“Yes, Master Landon.”

His thumb rubbed the skin he’d pinched. “I thought you were closed off, refusing to scene, because you didn’t want to risk losing control of the game you were running.”

“This isn’t a game.” Staying safe from Damien wasn’t a game.

“I know you’re playing me, playing Interpol.”

Colette tensed, mouth opening to protest.

“But now that I’ve seen this…” Landon’s fingers traced the knife cut along her side, not touching it directly, but mirroring its path. “I realize there’s more to it.”

She was focused on that touch, and not paying attention to where his other hand was, or what it was doing. The first swat to her ass came as a surprise, making her jump and yelp.

That hurt.

Good. She needed it to hurt.

The spot of heat on her left butt cheek made the skin on her legs feel cold in comparison. She wanted that heat everywhere.

For a wild moment she considered begging.

Begging him to bind her to the bedpost and flog every inch of her. Begging him to take her back out to the private club and tie her up so she was spread, exposed, and helpless. Let it be the heat of everyone’s gaze that warmed her.

His hand rubbed the spot he’d just swatted, and when his palm lifted, she tensed, even though she knew better. A hard spank landed on her right butt cheek. He didn’t bounce his hand, but instead held it there once it landed, pressing the heat deeper into skin, fat, and muscle.

Landon adjusted his feet, her body rocking on his thighs. His free hand cupped her shoulder, preventing her from sliding off his lap.

Then he began to spank her in earnest.

Landon was a big man, with heavy hands, and the deep burn started almost immediately. He spanked her hard, alternating cheeks and covering her from the center of her ass down to her upper thighs. The rhythmic crack, crack, crack of flesh meeting flesh first buzzed out other sounds, and then drowned out her thoughts.

“What a good girl you are to take your spanking,” he murmured. The praise was almost at odds with the hard, punishing swats.

Her pussy throbbed at his words, and she couldn’t stop the small needy noises she made.

“You need a spanking, don’t you?”

She nodded, hair tossing around her head.

Spank, spank, spank.

“You need to be spanked hard, don’t you my bad, good girl.”

That’s right. She was a bad girl. A good girl.

His girl.

Spank, spank, spank.

The skin on her butt and upper thighs burned, while her mind was—finally—quiet and calm. Colette let her head hang, enjoying the way it made blood throb in her ears.