Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
In which I become a brat…and Ocean makes it clear he won’t tolerate that.
It hadn’t been Preston.
It couldn’t have been Preston.
But the day after that ghost encounter, I still couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling in my belly. I’d been fine for most of the day as I worked on the deal with the Krause Group and had several business meetings via Zoom after that. But now that the working part of my day was over—Ocean insisted on having dinner together every night—it was much harder to get it off my mind.
I was on edge, my mind plagued by memories that should’ve stayed buried. My fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against my thigh as I paced through the suite, my feet sinking into the plush carpet. I was too restless to sit still.
“You okay there, Cash?” Ocean’s voice drifted over from where he lounged on the couch, all golden skin and tousled hair. “You’re wearing a path in that fancy rug.”
I waved him off. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”
“Mm.” He studied me, his eyes narrowing. He saw so much more than I liked. But then he said, “How about we head down for dinner? Might help clear your head.”
I nodded, grateful for the distraction. As we made our way to the elevator, Ocean’s hand found the small of my back, a gesture that usually calmed me. Tonight, it made me want to squirm away.
The hotel restaurant was dimly lit, intimate. We were led to a secluded corner table, and I immediately reached for the drink menu.
“I think I’ll start with a scotch,” I said, ignoring Ocean’s raised eyebrow.
“Maybe we should order food first? You told me you’ve barely eaten since breakfast.”
Annoyance flared. “I’m a big boy, Ocean. I can handle my liquor.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Just looking out for you. No need to get prickly.”
The waiter arrived, and I ordered my drink before Ocean could interject again. As we perused the menu, I disagreed with every suggestion Ocean made.
“The salmon looks good,” he said.
“Too fishy,” I countered.
“Steak?”
“Not in the mood for red meat.”
Ocean set down his menu, fixing me with those sea-blue eyes. “Cash, what’s really going on? You’ve been off all evening.”
I shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing. I’m just not that hungry.”
“Bull,” Ocean said softly. “Talk to me. Please?”
For a moment, I considered opening up, telling him about the man who’d looked like Preston, about the memories and fears it had dredged up. Instead, I downed half the scotch the waiter had brought in one swallow. “There’s nothing to talk about. Can we order and eat in peace?”
Ocean’s brow furrowed, concern evident in his expression. “Alright. But I’m here if you need me. You know that, right?”
I nodded, guilt gnawing at me even as I signaled the waiter for another drink. I knew I was being difficult, knew Ocean was only trying to help. But admitting that meant facing the turmoil inside me, and I wasn’t ready for that.
As we made our way back to the presidential suite, my restlessness only intensified. The opulent hallways of the Queen Victoria Hotel felt suffocating, each step a reminder of the control I was desperately clinging to.
“I’m gonna get some more work done,” I said, making a beeline for the study.
Ocean’s hand caught my arm. “Sweetheart, it’s nearly nine. Don’t you think it’s time to relax?”
I shrugged him off, the touch sending unwanted shivers down my spine. “I’m not tired. You go ahead.”
“Cash…” Ocean’s voice held a note of warning now. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I have work I need to get done. Not all of us have your carefree existence.”
Ocean stepped closer, his presence both comforting and unsettling. “You’ve been pushing me away all night. Talk to me, please.”
He’d backed me into a corner, both physically and emotionally, and I felt trapped. “I said I’m fine. Stop trying to psychoanalyze me.”
Ocean’s patience visibly frayed. “I’m not psychoanalyzing you. I’m worried about you. You’ve been acting out all evening, and it’s clear something’s bothering you.”
“Acting out?” I scoffed, anger rising to mask my vulnerability. “I’m not a child, Ocean.”
Ocean rose to his full height, and somehow, he felt much taller than me, like I was somehow shrinking. “No, you’re not a child, but you’re sure as fuck acting like one. Something’s the matter, and your refusal to talk about it is affecting both of us.”
“Maybe what’s wrong is you constantly hovering, trying to fix me. Did you ever think of that?”
Ocean’s eyes, usually so warm, hardened. “I’m not trying to fix you. I’m trying to understand and support you. But I can’t do that if you keep pushing me away.”
His words hit home, piercing through my defenses. I felt exposed, raw, and it terrified me. “I don’t need your support. I don’t need anyone’s support. I’ve made it this far on my own, haven’t I?”
“But you don’t have to do it alone anymore. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Let me in, Cash.”
You know that feeling when you’re watching someone make the stupidest decision of their life, yet you can’t look away because you want to witness the train wreck? That was how I felt. I was heading for disaster, but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t back down, couldn’t make myself walk away.
Something inside me kept pushing, daring Ocean to react. “ I don’t need you telling me what to do. I’m a grown man, for fuck’s sake!”
Ocean’s eyes flashed dangerously, like storm clouds gathering over a placid sea. In one fluid motion, he grabbed my biceps. “Enough!”
“Or what?”
Without saying a word, he yanked me forward, and I almost tripped as he all but dragged me toward a chair, where he sat down, pulling me between his legs. Before I realized what was happening, he’d dragged down my pants and underwear.
“What are you?—”
The words died in my throat as he manhandled me, bending me over his knee in one decisive movement.
The world tilted on its axis, and all of a sudden, I was staring at the plush carpet, my ass raised high. A rush of heat flooded my face as the reality of my position sank in.
“You’ve been asking for this all night,” Ocean said calmly, his large hand resting on the small of my back. “It’s time you learned some respect.”
Panic clawed at my chest. This couldn’t be happening. I was a powerful man, not some submissive boy needing a spanking. Yet a part of me thrilled at Ocean taking control, at finally facing the consequences for my brattiness.
The first smack landed with a resounding crack, the sting radiating through my body. I gasped, more from shock than pain. Ocean’s hand came down again and again, setting a steady rhythm that had me squirming and panting.
“Ocean, stop!” I cried out, mortified by the whine in my voice. “This is ridiculous!”
He halted for a moment. “If you truly want me to stop, say ‘red.’ Unless you tell me that, I’ll keep going.”
A safeword.
He was giving me a safeword.
Jesus fuck, what did I do now? He resumed the spanking and didn’t slow down either. If anything, the swats grew harder, and I slipped into a strange headspace. Humiliation warred with arousal, leaving me dizzy and confused.
Why wasn’t I saying red? All I had to do was utter that one word, and he’d stop. I knew he would. So why didn’t I?
What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I fighting harder? And why, god help me, was my cock hardening against Ocean’s thigh?
I closed my eyes as Ocean’s palm connected with my flesh again, the sharp sting radiating through my body. Each impact sent shockwaves of sensation coursing through me, like lightning striking a vast, turbulent sea. My mind raced, struggling to process the conflicting emotions swirling within me.
I clenched my jaw, determined not to make a sound as Ocean’s hand continued its relentless assault. But with each stinging slap, my resolve weakened. The pain blurred into a burning warmth that spread through my body like wildfire.
“You need this, don’t you?” Ocean’s voice was low, almost tender, despite the force behind his hand.
I bit my lip, fighting against the urge to respond. To admit. To surrender.
Another smack, harder this time. I gasped, my body jerking involuntarily. “Answer me, Cash.”
“I… I don’t…” The words caught in my throat, choking me. How could I need this? I was Cashell Sullivan, a self-made billionaire. I didn’t need anyone. I didn’t submit to anyone.
And yet…
With each strike, layers of resistance peeled away. Ocean would say it was like being caught in a riptide, fighting against a current far stronger than myself. The more I struggled, the more exhausted I became.
“Let go, Cash. You’re fighting yourself more than me.”
His words pierced through my defenses, striking at something deep within me. I felt like a dam about to burst, years of pent-up tension and control threatening to overwhelm me.
“I can’t,” I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how.”
“You can.” Ocean paused to rub soothing circles on my burning flesh. “Trust me.”
The gentleness in his touch was my undoing. Something inside me began to crack, a wall holding back years of pent-up emotion. Another fissure appeared with each impact until finally…
I broke.
A sob tore from my throat, raw and primal. And suddenly, I was falling, floating, drifting in a sea of sensation. The pain blurred into pleasure, fear into exhilaration. I felt lighter than I had in years, maybe decades. The world had narrowed to this moment, this feeling. Nothing existed beyond Ocean’s touch, his voice, the incredible sense of freedom washing over me.
“That’s it,” Ocean praised, resuming the spanking with softer, almost caressing swats. “Let it all out.”
I surrendered to the sensations, my body going limp across Ocean’s lap. Each smack sent waves of pleasure coursing through me, my mind drifting in a hazy cloud of endorphins. I felt weightless, free. Loved.
“That’s it. Just breathe. You’re riding the waves now, sweetheart. Let them carry you. I’m so proud of you.”
“Ocean…”
I wasn’t even sure what I was begging for, but Ocean seemed to understand. His hand stilled, coming to rest on the small of my back.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, and I believed him.
I took a shuddering breath as Ocean’s hands shifted, gently easing me off his lap. The world tilted, and I was cradled against his chest, my face tucked into the crook of his neck. His arms encircled me, strong and secure, like a fortress against the tumultuous emotions swirling within me.
His lips brushed against my temple. His fingers carded through my hair, each stroke sending shivers down my spine. “You’re safe, Cash. You did so well.”
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t even form coherent thoughts. I just pressed closer, breathing in Ocean’s scent—a heady mix of salt and citrus that reminded me of sun-warmed beaches. My body felt boneless, my mind blissfully quiet for the first time in years.
I became aware of a dampness on my cheeks. Was I crying? I was. Not the harsh, wracking sobs from before, but silent tears that flowed freely, without shame or restraint. It should’ve been mortifying, being curled up in another man’s lap like a child. But in that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“You’re incredible.” Ocean pressed a kiss to my forehead. “So strong, so brave. Thank you for trusting me with this.”
I managed a weak chuckle, my voice hoarse. “Pretty sure I fought you every step of the way.”
“You pushed through your fear, Cash. That takes real courage.”
I lifted my head, meeting Ocean’s gaze. The tenderness I saw there made my breath catch. Then he smiled, a gentle curve of his lips that made my heart skip. Something unfolded inside me, unfurled, unclenched…and opened like a flower to the sun.
Uh-oh.
“Can we talk now?” Ocean asked softly.
I nodded before even thinking about it. When he looked at me like that, I wanted to do anything for him. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on my cheek. “Let me use the restroom, and then we’ll put some aloe lotion on that gorgeous red ass of yours. That’ll help it sting a little less.”
My ass was the least of my concerns right now, but I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I nodded again.
He gently put me on my feet, waiting a moment while I found my equilibrium, then helped me pull up my underwear and pants. I avoided his eyes as I made myself presentable again, my ass glowing like I’d burned myself.
Another soft kiss and Ocean disappeared into the bathroom. Reality came crashing in like a tidal wave. My heart, which had been so open moments ago, clenched painfully in my chest. What had I done? I’d let myself be completely vulnerable, exposed my deepest, most shameful desires to a virtual stranger.
I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging at the short strands as if I could physically pull the shame from my mind. My skin felt too tight, panic clawing at my insides. The opulent suite suddenly felt suffocating.
“I’m not… I can’t be…”
The word caught in my throat. Submissive.
The term Preston had scoffed at, judged as a sign of weakness. Now, it felt like a brand on my skin, impossible to ignore.
I couldn’t stay here. The thought was overwhelming, intrusive, drowning out all reason. I glanced at the bathroom door, heart pounding. Any second now, Ocean would emerge, and I’d have to face what I’d done. What I’d revealed about myself.
I grabbed my wallet and phone while shoving my feet into my shoes, not bothering with socks. The Piaget watch on the nightstand caught my eye—a symbol of the man I was supposed to be. Powerful. In control. What a fucking joke I was.
One last glance at the bathroom door, still closed, water still running.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure who I was apologizing to—Ocean or myself.
As I wrenched open the door, I caught a glimpse of myself in the ornate mirror. Disheveled, wide-eyed, a far cry from the composed businessman I projected to the world. For a moment, I hesitated, Ocean’s gentle voice echoing in my mind.
But the shame was too overwhelming. What had I done? What would Ocean think? How could I face him—or myself—after this?
I slipped out of the room, the door closing behind me with a soft click that felt deafeningly final. I jabbed at the elevator button repeatedly, willing it to arrive faster. When the doors finally opened, I stumbled inside, sagging against the mirrored wall. The warm night air hit me like a slap as I burst out of the Queen Victoria Hotel. Melbourne’s CBD stretched before me, a maze of lights and shadows. I had no idea where I was going, only that I needed to get away.
My feet carried me forward, each step putting more distance between me and what had happened in that room. But I couldn’t outrun the storm of emotions raging inside me.
Shame. Confusion. And underneath it all, a traitorous whisper of longing. The lingering ache, the way I’d melted under Ocean’s firm hand and gentle praise. I’d craved it, needed it in a way that terrified me.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Ocean. I let it ring, torn between the urge to answer and the desire to keep running.
“Fuck,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “What now, Cash? What the hell do you do now?”