Page 102 of Hot Ghost Summer

“Oh, Baby,” Hollis says, smoothing his hands languidly over the backs of my thighs and the swell of my butt. “This won’t be pleasant.”

I can’t help it: I moan and shuffle in place.

“You’re going to hurt the same way I hurt when you brought a revenant home in your body.”

Home. Hollis said, “home.” And I know I should be concerned about the threat he just issued, but my mind is infinitely more hooked on that one word. I’m Hollis’s home.

The first strike catches me unprepared.

Clenching, I hiss.

“The horror that filled me when I saw someone else’s eyes staring at me from inside your face.”

The second smack, although no less savage, doesn’t carry the same sting because I know it’s coming.

“So, I’m going to show you how it felt, and then next time you’ll know better. You’ll remember this, and you’ll keep yourself safe.”

The third strike, exactly layered on top of the previous two, heats my skin.

“And whenever you forget, I’ll help remind you.”

I moan.

Hollis smooths his hand over my abused flesh. “You died today.”

“Mhm,” I slur, not in the least bit concerned about that, because who knew death came with funishments.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Then we’re going to do one for each year of your life that you so carelessly disregarded.” Hollis’s hand makes one last circuit around my lower back, over my arse, and finally the backs of my thighs. “That was four. I want you to count them out loud for me.”

He brings his palm swiftly down on already stinging skin.

For a second, I forget to breathe, then, “Owww.” That was much harder than the others. “Five,” I pant.

“Each number represents how valuable you are.” He brings his hand down again, this time higher up and on the fleshier part of my arse.

Having warmed up, I breathe through it much more easily. “Six.”

The next couple of blows, also delivered to the same place in rapid succession, produce a nice tingling effect

“Seven and eight,” I count proudly. “You said it was going t’ hurt, so should I also tell you when I can feel it?”

Hollis’s sigh is heavy with exasperation, and it’s like catnip. But for brats. Bratnip.

I chuckle at my joke, and this time when his hand collides, it’s not just the sting of his skin on mine, but the biting crackle of static electricity. My body tenses like a bowstring over his lap.

“Do you feel me now, Baby?”

The echo of blow nine ricochets through the room like a clap of thunder, locking my words inside me.

“New rule: Theo will not put his life in danger. Not for a cow. And not for anything.” His stern tone predicates another supercharged one-two delivery. “Repeat that back. And count.”

“Ten,” I exhale. “Eleven.”

Twelve and thirteen land just as hard—and before I’ve had a chance to complete his last instruction. His swift savagery ignites a fire of indignation inside me.