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My mind raced, trying to figure out his meaning. Sure, I’d been the kind of kid to get in a whole lot of trouble over the years; that’s what bounced me out of several orphanages and foster homes.
I had been a ward of the state, but my file indicated that I was just a troubled girl. I could only imagine how relieved they were when I finally aged out of the system and left of my own volition. They’d washed their hands of me, and I’d washed my hands of them.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” I said quietly, looking around the room for any avenue of escape. For some reason, I felt like I should run, but there wasn’t anywhere for me to go.
He took a step toward me, and the large room seemed to shrink and narrow down to just the distance between me and him.
“Don’t play coy, naughty girl. You know what you need and I’m exactly the man that’s going to give it to you,” he said, the insinuation in his tone heavy.
Did he plan to fuck me? Was that what this was? He’d seen that Gregor had his hands on me and he wanted me for himself?
No. That didn’t seem right.
He wasn’t looking at me like a man that wanted to fuck me. Honestly, there was this sort of weary look on his face rather than one of excitement, which wasn’t what I would expect from a man that wanted to take what wasn’t his for himself.
I pulled my hands up a bit defensively, watching him with a certain wariness that just seemed to escalate the more time that passed.
“Keep your hands off me,” I countered.
“I’m afraid that this isn’t how it’s going to work, little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl! I’m eighteen!” I spat, but he simply raised an eyebrow in response, like he wasn’t taking me seriously and I glowered back at him in response. He ignored it.
Asshole.
Then he took another step toward me, and the room shrank even smaller.
My heart hammered in my chest. My palms grew sweaty, and it took everything in me to continue to stand my ground.
“What’s going on?” I demanded. What was his game? What did he want from me?
Whatever this was, I had a feeling that I was definitely not going to like it.
“We’re going to discuss your punishment.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, my stomach dropping when it suddenly occurred to me what he meant.
He meant to discipline me.
“I’m going to take you over my knee, bare your ass, and give you a spanking you won’t ever forget, little girl, and then I’m going to put you to bed.”
My mouth opened wide in shock.
A spanking?
I’d never been spanked. I’d been grounded and sent to the corner and my room and even ordered to do community service time and time again, but I’d never been put over anyone’s knee in my life. Honestly, the very idea of it was ridiculous.
Spankings were for children.
I was a full-grown ass adult.
“Fuck you. I’m not letting you spank me,” I countered.
“There will be no letting me, little girl. You’re getting a spanking. It’s as simple as that,” he answered, his tone leaving no room for argument, but I felt like I had to try anyway.
“You’re not going to touch me,” I snarled, and I took a step backwards.
“That’s not up for discussion,” he replied and then he closed the distance between us in several large steps. I backed up as far as I could, but my retreat was put to an end the moment my ass brushed up against the wall.
