Chapter Three #2
I relaxed at that. Of course, he could. During dinner, we'd discussed personal, but safe, topics about each other, and I'd discovered he was in his late thirties.
With his worldly experience, I was sure I must look like a complete amateur in every way, but especially now, as he'd probably spanked many bottoms, and I had nothing to compare to what he was about to do to me, aside from books, which everyone knew were reality-adjacent.
When he squeezed my ass cheek, I realized how big his hands were. I had an ample bottom, but in his hands, it felt small. My inner thoughts ended when his hand lifted and slammed down.
“Oh!” The sting morphed into heat and then a throb, but before I could analyze too much, his hand landed again, easily striking both cheeks at once. Yikes! This hurt way more than they'd said. In that moment, I wanted to write every romance author I'd read and tell them they'd lied.
“Tell me, why are you getting a spanking?”
His hand peppered my backside with hard taps that left me breathless. Why was I getting a spanking? Something about the airport, but I couldn't remember exactly our interaction regarding that.
“I'm not entirely sure!” My last word came out in a squeal as his palm struck in an upward motion at the base of my cheeks, leaving in its wake a delicious sting. The sensations were almost too much for my brain to handle, and the urge to fight it, overwhelming.
“First, you didn't give me a chance to introduce myself to you at the ticket gate. Second,” he punctuated his words with a flurry of spanks on my stinging bottom, “you got out of your seat before the plane had stopped moving, ignoring the 'seatbelt on' sign.
Third, you tried to retrieve your case, knowing perfectly well you couldn't reach, endangering yourself for the second time.”
As he spoke, his hand continued with those stinging swats on my bottom, and I found it difficult to keep silent, crying out with each stroke.
I imagined for a moment this was a comic drawing, and all those bubble clouds that show onomatopoeia were appearing in front of me.
It was funny in my head, not so much on my bottom.
“Then you shoved your way through passengers to get off the plane. You were a very naughty girl, Luna.”
Oh my goodness, why did that sound so dirty?
A part of me wanted to protest against all he said—hell, all he was doing—but another part of me knew this was where I belonged, at least for the moment, and I planned on soaking in every second of this experience.
Even with the lovely endorphins spiking through my system, I felt a certain sadness.
I could imagine this being my life: expensive dinners with a sexier-than-sin man who seemed obsessed with my ass.
“Where do you live?” I suddenly asked.
The spanking stopped, and I could feel his hesitation.
“Did I give you permission to ask questions while being punished? I guess I'm not doing my job right if you have time to think while over my lap.”
I wanted to argue with him that it was working plenty fine, but even as that thought popped up, another replaced it, one of me realizing he was right. I couldn't hold back the giggle, despite it being completely inappropriate.
“Giggle now, naughty girl, for soon you'll be singing.”
Huh?
Artair stood and swung me so my knees were on the couch and my chest leaned into the backrest. Behind me, a hiss of sound told me that he was removing his belt, and a moment later, there was a crack in the air that made me shiver.
“Let's see if this helps you concentrate.”
Concentrate? Hell, I was trying to do the opposite!
Before I'd fully recovered from the loud, commanding sound of the leather being snapped, I felt a lick of fire across the center of my cheeks.
“Ouch!”
I wanted to reach back and cover my backside, but before I could, Artair issued a warning.
“Ah-ah-ah, naughty lass. Keep your hands on the back of the couch.”
Damn, how did he know? He was like a Daddy with superpowers or something. It turned out I needed my hands for squeezing the hell out of the cushions. The worst and by far the most embarrassing thing about my current situation was the juice leaking down my inner thighs.
The leather was more intense than his hand, but also more sensual, causing a blend of pain and pleasure. The more he delivered, the more I wanted.
“Oh, Daddy, please!” I finally cried, no longer able to keep my desire to myself.
“Please, what?”
“I... uh... I need you to touch me.”
“You mean you need to come?”
Why was it when he said my dirty thoughts aloud in his growly Scottish voice, I nearly swooned?
“Yes. That is what I meant.”
He stopped spanking me when I cried out, but his hand slammed down on my bottom. Then he squeezed the scorching flesh. Moaning, I arched my hips toward him, hoping he'd do more. I wasn't disappointed when he ran his finger along my slick seam.
“Oh! Yes, please.”
He tugged my hips back a bit further and sank one of his fingers inside. Artair was a big man, and his hands and fingers were large as well. Only one digit offered me that feeling of fullness I desired. I clenched around it as he stroked my clit.
“Do you want to come, little one?”
“Yes, Daddy, yes, please!” Any reservations I'd had about calling him that title had disappeared, and now all I wanted was to please him and be on the receiving end of his pleasure.
He pinched my nub between his fingers; a reaction so powerful I'd never felt anything like it before pinged through me.
Heat raced down my spine, and my body felt like it shattered into millions of pieces.
I hung in space for long moments before collapsing against the back of the couch, completely wrung out.
Artair removed his finger and scooped me bridal-style into his arms. I snuggled against his chest, enjoying how his large frame made me feel safe and secure.
He lay me down in the bedroom on a bed that was so deep and soft.
My eyes were already closing when, a moment later, he swiped between my legs with a warm, wet towel then patted me dry.
He covered me with a crisp sheet and a heavy blanket.
Cocooned in warmth and comfort, it was hard to stay awake, but I needed to know what came next.
“I'll pick you up for lunch tomorrow, Luna, and we'll make a plan for everything you want to see while you're on vacation.”
I wanted to tell him it wasn't a vacation, but my thoughts were a jumbled mess of sleepiness. I grunted in agreement, and it was only when I heard his retreating footsteps that I remembered dessert before falling into a deep sleep.