“He is.”
Colby smiled at that and kissed her. “That’s a very black-and-white world you’re living in, Georgia. Now”—he put his mouth close to her ear—“get on your knees and let me show you what happens when you try to change our plans without my permission.”
Her breath caught. “Here?”
He released her and grabbed one of the chairs from the dining room table. He spun it around and pointed next to it. “Here.”
Her heartbeat turned into a wild thing, but she managed to walk the few steps over to the chair and get to her knees. The tile was cool beneath her skin, hard, but the slight discomfort grounded her, giving her something to focus on.
Colby swung open a kitchen cabinet and pulled out a crock of kitchen utensils. Wooden spoons, plastic spatulas, a whisk with a thick rubber handle. She watched him with rapt attention, gnawing the inside of her lip. He walked over and set them on the table next to the chair, then reached for her. He ran his hand over the back of her head, a sweet, tender gesture, then sat and patted his leg. “Drape yourself over my thighs and flip your dress up. You wanted Keats to be part of this? Well, I’ll give you your wish. His wall shares one with the kitchen. He’ll be able to hear your first spanking.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t want to do that to him. It’s not really fair and—”
“I don’t remember asking your opinion, love. And if you’re so concerned about it, then don’t make any noise.” Instead of patting his leg again, he gripped her arm and gently guided her up and over his lap. “Now lift up your dress.”
The prone position sent her body into an instant capitulation, and any further protests seemed to fade into the loud sound of her heartbeat thumping in her ears. She reached back and dragged her dress up, exposing her naked backside. The cool air on her heated skin made goose bumps rise and the damp place between her thighs burn even hotter. Her fingertips touched the floor, and she wasn’t sure if it was the head rush from the position or something else, but she felt giddy. Colby adjusted himself beneath her, strong muscular thighs pressing into all of her softest spots.
“You look fucking sinful like this, baby,” Colby said, running a warm palm over her backside. “I can’t wait to make this pretty ass sting.”
God. Her body was throbbing already. She’d never been spanked—not in a sexual way or in a disciplinary one. But there was something about being in this position that was totally doing it for her. She had a feeling it was going to be hard to stay quiet.
He slid his hand between her thighs, finding her warm, wet secret. His thumb slid inside her and his fingers moved up to stroke her clit in tandem. “Mmm, someone’s been ready for a while.”
She gasped, trying to stay still, trying to stay quiet, but damn the man was good with his fingers. He gave her a few more strokes and then pulled away, wiping her arousal on the back of her thigh as if to say, Look, how much you want this.
It wouldn’t be a lie.
She braced for the next thing, knowing a hit of some sort would come, but instead a fingertip traced around her back opening. She jolted with surprise, but he held her down easily with his other hand. “Have you ever been taken here?”
She tried to swallow the drool pooling in her mouth. The sensation was so . . . decadent, forbidden. “With a vibrator, never sex.”
And only on her own, a handful of times, though she’d die if she had to admit that. She’d asked Phillip once if he wanted to try it, and he’d looked at her like she’d grown another head. That kind of thing did not fit into the princess image he’d painted in his head. So he’d laughed and taken it like she’d been joking with him.
“Did you enjoy it?” Colby asked, squeezing her buttock in a firm, almost painful grip, then releasing.
She shuddered from the sensation—tingling pain, not unpleasant. “I didn’t hate it.”
He chuckled, that warm low laugh of his that seemed to come from deep in that barreled chest. “Good to know.”
Then he smacked her with his open palm, right over the spot he’d grabbed. One. Two. Three.
She made a choked noise, half from surprise and half from the feel of the blows.
“Pain level one to ten,” he asked.
She tried to suck in a breath, get her thoughts back. Her ass was stinging but not in an unbearable way. “Five.”
“Good.” He reached for one of the utensils. “If we get to an eight or nine, you stop me.”
“Okay.”
She tried not to brace for it, knew it would make it worse, but when the spatula came down on her, she was as tense as a fist. The sting didn’t spread over as big a portion as it had with his hand, but it was sharp and wicked. She bit her lip trying not to make noise. She wouldn’t drag Keats into this.
But good intentions were about all she had because when Colby continued to work her ass over with swats, it felt like an avalanche of sound was building up in her throat. Everything was on fire—her ass, the backs of her thighs. The pain was crawling up to a seven and she wasn’t sure she was as tough as she thought.
“Spread your legs wider,” Colby said, calm as a bright blue sky in June. Damn him. How could he be so calm when he was whaling on her?
But she couldn’t stop herself from obeying. She opened her thighs wider, balancing on her toes. The sound of tools banging around in the crock filled her ears, and then he gave her a soft pop right against her sex. Whack.