The Marriage Pact (16 page)

“Hmm, I don’t know. Can I spank you for not letting me spank you?”

The playfulness was back and I relaxed a little. “Is that a question?” I’d meant it to sound flippant, but I caught how my voice wobbled and I knew he had, too. “You know what, really, I’ve got to go now.” This time, mercifully, I managed to move my feet and walk toward the door.

He caught up with me in mere heartbeats, stopping me with a hand to my arm. “Not so fast, we need to talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about?” I asked, my breath hitching at his touch. “I said no. You still remember what that means, don’t you?”

“Attitude, Shana,” he growled in a low voice, making me flush hotter. “And yes, your lips are saying no
some
of the time while the rest of you…” He lowered his hands until he was holding my hips. “Seems pretty unsure to me.”

“No fair,” I protested weakly.

“I said I’m going to spank you and that’s what I intend to do.”

His voice wasn’t firm this time, but soft as a caress. I knew if I said no again, he’d listen, he’d let me go—so why didn’t I? I tugged away, but he held me in place easily. I’d been enjoying staring at the solid hunk of a man he’d become for some time now, never contemplating what it would be like to try and get away from him; not that I tried very hard.

“I don’t feel so good,” I admitted, my voice breathy.

“I know, baby. You have a bad feeling in the pit of your tummy, don’t you? You feel bad because of how you acted, don’t you?”

I nodded, ducking my head so that he couldn’t see the film of tears building in my eyes once more. He was right, and add to it the indescribable feelings coursing through me that I couldn’t begin to understand and I was a mess.

“Shana, look at me,” he crooned. His voice lulled me into obedience and the minute he had my attention, he gave me a warm, reassuring smile. “I’m going to make it all better now, OK, sweetheart?”

I nodded and when he took my hand and began walking back toward the bed, I followed. It felt like I was in a dream, a strangely vivid dream where I was about to be spanked and I didn’t mind. Of course, that was only because I didn’t know to mind.

Brody was gentle and sweet with me every step of the way. When we got to the bed, I didn’t know what to expect, but he sat me down on his lap and rubbed circles into my back, murmuring soothingly. “You’re a good girl, Shana—you always have been. This is just a reminder to be good, understand?”

“Y-yes, sir,” I answered, my lip quivering.

He must have known that I couldn’t take any more talk about it, because he then guided me over his lap and positioned me until I was resting squarely over his knees. “I want you to understand that I’m doing this because I care about you.”

If the warm, concerned tone of his voice filled me with warm fuzzies, the first hard smack that landed on my boxer-clad bottom drove them out. As his hand continued to paddle my butt, the tingling pain drove out all thoughts except the spanking itself. He landed swat after swat, hardly giving me time to catch my breath from the last before the next fell. I was very quickly starting to regret not running when I’d had the chance.

I sagged with relief when he stopped. Thank God. Tears were threatening once more and I just didn’t think I could handle crying for the fourth time in one day.

“Do you understand why I’m spanking you, Shana?”

Spanking
? Didn’t he mean, spanked? Did that mean—?

“Shana?”

The underlying warning of impatience forced me to pay attention. “Uh, because I was mean to you?” I guessed.

“You don’t sound sure,” he observed before smacking my butt two more times in rapid succession, each spank laid right on the top of the other.

“Because I was mean to you!” I screeched out, wincing.

“Disrespect, yes, that’s part of it. And?”

“Because I yelled at you?”

“Good girl.”

It didn’t
feel
like I’d gotten the answer right, since as soon as I said it my ‘reward’ was another round of hard, stinging smacks that had me wriggling on his lap before he was through. The tingling was turning into a burning real quick and spreading across the rest of my bottom. What made it worse was that he kept spanking the same place over and over again, right on the curve of my ass, which now felt like it had been permanently imprinted with the shape of his hand. By the time he stopped, I was sniffling and had tears coursing down my cheeks.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, as though he couldn’t tell just by looking at my red-hot ass.

“Sore,” I said, my lip quivering.

“I know, baby. We’re almost done.”

“
Almost
?” I echoed, feeling a sob coming on at the thought. I couldn’t take any more—I just couldn’t.

“We still have to talk about you standing up in the boat. That was dangerous, Shana.”

“It wasn’t dangerous,” I protested, trying to sit up. Brody held me down on his lap effortlessly and I gave up after a few seconds, deciding it was best to conserve my energy—it looked like I was going to need it.

“I’d rather not drag this out any longer, so if you feel the same way, I’d suggest not arguing with me.”

“So what, if I disagree with you you’re going to… to
hit
me?” I demanded hotly.

“It’s fine to disagree, so long as you do it respectfully—which, by the way, is something you need to work on.”

“But it wasn’t dangerous! It was barely six feet of water!” It was exactly the wrong thing to say, not that I should have been surprised. It seemed to be what I was prone to in his presence.

“Apparently you aren’t learning your lesson, Shana.” He tsked his tongue and before I could argue further, I felt him pull down the boxers, letting the cool air caress my bottom.

I hadn’t thought I could be more mortified, but he’d just proved me wrong. “Brody! Please, it wasn’t!”

I felt his palm lift a half-second before I felt it collide with my skin. “You got lucky,” he growled at me, landing a spank for every word. “What if it had been three feet? You could have landed the wrong way and broken your neck. What if it had been twelve? You could have drowned. I’m not going to argue the particulars with you on this, Shana.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to point out that I was an excellent swimmer, but I thought better of it. “All right! I’m sorry!” I screeched, loud enough to wake the dead.

“We’ll see.” His voice was just as determined as his unyielding hand was on my backside.

“Brody! Brody, please!” I gasped. I’d just managed to blink away the tears during the lecture and now I could see they hadn’t really gone anywhere.

Still, he didn’t let up. He spanked every inch of skin, paddling up one side of my bottom and down the other until my cries turned to sobs. The tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring my vision no matter how quickly I blinked them away. When he finally stopped, I felt positively on fire. The first thing I planned on doing when I got home was climbing into a nice, cold ice bath.
If
I ever got home.

“Don’t ever,
ever
let me catch you endangering yourself again, is that clear?” he asked in the same stoic voice he’d used before.

This time, I knew better than to argue. “Yes, sir. Can I get up now?” I asked, sniffling.

“That depends. Are you going to behave?”

“Yes,” I replied meekly, knowing no other answer would be acceptable.

From the moment he helped me to sit on his lap, I knew I couldn’t meet his eyes. I was too embarrassed. I buried my face in the soft flannel of his shirt instead and proceeded to cry my heart out. I thought I was done, but the minute I inhaled his sexy, manly scent, the sobs returned with abandon. I felt so ashamed of myself. I couldn’t believe I’d let my ex-boyfriend spank me, but even more unbelievable was the fact that I’d deserved it at all. I couldn’t bear to look at him, because now that he’d seen me bare-assed and red-eyed from crying—neither was a very pretty sight—I was pretty sure any romantic feelings he might have had beforehand had died hard.

“Shh,” he whispered, rubbing circles on my back as I sobbed. “Shh. It’s over now. You’re going to be OK.”

“Tell that to my s-sore bu-butt,” I protested, sniffling.

“Shh, I know. I know. I’m sorry I had to punish you. It won’t last forever, just long enough to make sure you remember this conversation.”

“How could I forget?” I wailed, shifting uncomfortably.

“Hush, honey, you’re going to be just fine.” He continued to pat my back until my cries softened to whimpers. “Don’t you feel better now, sweetheart?”

I jerked my head up to see if he was teasing me. He wasn’t, but
no
was still on my lips faster than I could think it. But to my surprise, after I paused to take inventory I found that, other than a very sore bottom, I
did
feel better. My heart felt lighter than it had in a long time. Sitting here on his lap, even though my ass was hot to the touch and my face tear-streaked, felt like the best place I’d been in a
long
time. For once, I didn’t feel weighed down by the niggling doubts and questions that had plagued me since coming back home. I felt like I could breathe easy, even if only in this moment.

Brody must have seen it on my face, because he leaned down and kissed my nose. “I just want to help you, Shana.”

“I know,” I admitted in a small, little-girl voice that made him smile.

“I’m glad.”

Giving him a small smile, I pushed myself off his lap, backing up a few steps and appraising him. God, the man was hot. Would he never cease to set my pulse to racing?

“How about we go for that ice cream?”

I shook my head ruefully. “Thanks, but I… I’m really tired. I should probably get back home and ah… grab a nap before Mom gets up.”

He considered me thoughtfully and I saw the doubt creep into his eyes before he spoke. “Rain check?”

I ran a hand through my damp, frizzy hair as I considered him. The truth was, I did want to go with him. I wanted to go out for ice cream, lunch, walks, movies, I wanted to go anywhere and everywhere, so long as he’d be there. Which was absurd, considering the man had just blistered my butt, for God’s sake! But it seemed like no matter what he did, Brody was my kryptonite. And like Superman, I knew all too well that kryptonite could hurt like hell. I couldn’t risk it, as much as I wanted to.

“Shan?”

“Um, yeah.” I tried to smile, but all I could manage was a grimace. “Sure. I just have to figure out my schedule…”

Brody put his hands on his thighs, looking at me with soulful eyes. “What just happened? I thought we were OK and now you’re acting…” He trailed off and I wondered if he couldn’t put a word to it or if he just didn’t want to.

“No, we are. OK, I mean. Just… I’m a little confused right now.”

“About?”

I folded my arms across my chest and looked up at the ceiling. “About us. I don’t know what’s going on with us.”

“What do you want to be going on?”

“I… I really have to go now. I’m sorry. Goodbye.” I dashed for the door before he had a chance to stop me and I kept going, even when I heard him call out for me to come back for my wet clothes. I had to keep moving, because if I stopped I knew my weakness would take me right back to him.

I took the stairs two at a time and darted into the kitchen. I was heading for the back door when I heard a throat clear behind me.

“Good morning, Shana. You’re up early.”

I winced and turned to face her. “Good morning, Mrs. Patterson,” I replied, blushing hotly. I could see it in every line of her face, no matter how calm she appeared: she’d heard Brody spanking me, had probably heard every single yelp and cry.

“Are you staying for breakfast, dear?”

“No, I can’t stay.” I smiled apologetically before running out the door, leaving her questioning eyes and the stench of my humiliation behind me.

Chapter Eight

Mom was having a hell of a bad day, which automatically meant I was having one, too.

It had been three days since Brody had spanked me and even though the pain in my bottom had long since faded, the same couldn’t be said for my embarrassment. I’d kept holed up in the house since then, afraid to step a toe out the door in case he was watching, waiting to ambush me. Not that I could blame him—he’d called roughly sixteen times since I’d seen him last and I’d let every single one go to voicemail. Not that I’d listened to them; I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand it.

“Shana? Where are you?” My mom’s voice was high-pitched and verging on hysterical.

“Right here, Mom.” I winced, hoping she couldn’t hear the irritation that had crept into my voice.

“Where did you put my eye drops?”

I propped myself up on my elbow, looking at her. “I didn’t touch them, Mom. Where did you have them last?”

“I have no idea!” she exclaimed, sighing in annoyance. “You must have taken them; I never misplace my eye drops.”

I tried not to take the glaring accusation in her face personally. I knew she’d forget all about it in a few minutes, anyway. “Why don’t I help you look?”

She ignored my question, instead raising her arm to inspect her wristwatch. “What are you still doing in bed? It’s three in the afternoon!”

A sarcastic retort leapt to my lips, almost as though I was the teenager she was treating me as. I bit it back just in time, covering it with an apologetic smile. “I’m not feeling well.” That wasn’t entirely untrue. Never mind that my symptoms had more to do with confusion and frustration than actual illness.

“Hmm.” She walked forward and to my surprise she put her hand to my forehead. “I don’t think you’re warm, sweetie.”

It was so normal, so oddly reminiscent of the lost decades that I felt tears gather in my eyes. “I’ll be fine, Mom, thanks. I’ll get up. I’ll help you look for—”

“No, no, you lie back down. You should rest.” She motioned for me to comply and I did, marveling at the odd turn the conversation had taken as she tucked me in, pulling the sheets tight around me like she had back when I was seven and strongly believed in the possibility of monsters in my closet.