Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tazzy studied Jaxon, hoping he didn’t have anything more to say. At least not right now. Her emotions were already on a pogo stick, bouncing between “fear” and “hope.” She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
Drawing in a shaky breath, she fisted her hands at her sides.
She could feel the weight of every lonely night, every unsent letter, every tear she had cried into her pillow.
She could feel the fear that he might disappear again, the second she let herself need him.
And underneath it all sat the truth she could no longer deny.
She loved Jaxon Ruick.
She’d never stopped. That’s why the pain never eased. But knowing that didn’t solve anything. Love was one thing, trust was another.
His explanation of why he’d distanced himself from her made complete sense. The General would definitely make those threats, and if Jaxon thought they were serious, the Jaxon she knew would have done anything to protect her, even if it meant giving her up.
After all, he did just spend eight years in prison for something she had always known he hadn’t done. She hadn’t been the only one suffering. As painful as it was, she did have her freedom.
Hadn’t the last few years been an unending focus on what she’d lost for herself while the man she loved rotted in prison? Of course, if he’d only trusted her enough or managed to get a message to her somehow, it might have been bearable.
But it hadn’t been bearable. It had broken her, maybe too much to mend. And now, on top of everything else, guilt over her part in everything gnawed at her stomach.
It was all so confusing that she was ready to scream.
Only one thing might make her feel better. Could she… would she accept the spanking Jaxon had offered? She hadn’t been spanked since he’d left. A person could accumulate a lot of guilt and regrets in eight years. Releasing all of those feelings, along with the pain, felt so tempting.
She wasn’t even sure she still had a Little, it had been hiding for so long.
And the anger. She was so damn angry. At Jaxon… at the universe… at herself and the whole situation. It had affected everything from her clothes to her habits. To think she’d been tempted to smoke and had agreed to participate in Georgia’s bucket list adventures out of nothing but pure spite.
The problem was that she was so used to the wall she had built, brick by brick, that she felt safe behind it. Tearing it down was impossible now.
From the way he was looking at her, he must have seen her decision. She saw the decision in his eyes, too. Before he said a word.
“Right. Daddy’s going to take care of you, young lady. And by the time I’m finished, you will be one very sorry Little girl, and all the yuckies you’ve been storing up will be gone.”
For the first time in forever, her emotional pogo stick stayed on “hope” for bounce after bounce.
“Promise?” she all but whispered.
“I promise. Now, did you know smoking that cigarette was wrong?”
She took one step back. “Yes,” she admitted.
“And yet, knowing how bad it was for you, you tried to smoke it anyway.”
“But I didn’t smoke it. I wasn’t going to smoke it. You can’t—”
She broke off with a squeak, which he ignored. Pinching the shell of her ear, he pulled her through the house to his room. She’d forgotten he used to do that, and how much it hurt.
“Ow!” she cried out, doing her best to keep up with him. He ignored that, too. She could either lose an ear or trail beside him like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
“Do not move from this corner,” he ordered, wedging her nose in tight in the make-do corner. Her corner was really her standing next to the entertainment center. Old Jaxon could make anything a corner when it came to punishments.
It felt as familiar as an old friend.
An old “friend” my eye.
She couldn’t let herself forget that he wasn't her Daddy and she wasn't his Little. She was only allowing this to get rid of the guilty feelings she’d carried around for days, okay, years. Still, he didn’t move.
She turned her head and caught his reflection in the mirror next to where she was standing.
“Wh-why are you rolling up your sleeve like that? I thought this was mostly a spanking to relieve my guilty feelings?”
“Among other things,” he said, rolling back his other sleeve. “And that’s five more swats for not keeping your nose where I put it.”
She spun to face the corner again, wedging her nose practically behind the large wooden furniture. Why had she thought a spanking was a good idea? There were several reasons, but suddenly, none of them sounded that good.
“I know you’re mad at me. You’re not supposed to spank while you’re angry. So, why are you rolling up your sleeves? You only did that before for a really bad spanking. You know what? I’ve decided I don't want you to spank me.”
Who was she kidding? She couldn’t even convince herself. Jaxon certainly wasn’t buying it. She reangled her face so that she could see in the mirror and still have her nose in the corner. Ish.
She gasped at the sight of his brawny forearms.
Both of them.
He was strong before, but now? Good lord.
Control yourself, Tazzy. You are not getting turned on by this.
The hell she wasn’t.
“Corner time is over,” his voice drilled into her.
Spinning around, Tazzy threw both her hands in front of her. “Stop!”
“Stop?” He paused, eyebrows raised.
“It..It means Still Talking Out Problems.”
Resuming his walk toward her, he grinned like a shark. “That’s funny, I was taught it meant Spank Till Obedience Prevails.”
Rats! Apparently, New Jaxon was still as smart as Old Jaxon, too.
She shifted her hands to cover her bottom, splaying her fingers to cover as much surface area as possible.
“Move your hands, naughty girl,” he said, his voice deceptively mild. “You know better than that.”
“I said I don’t want you to spank me!” She tried to plant her feet, as if that would do any good. True to form, he simply picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of naughty potatoes.
When they reached the couch, he lowered her to the floor in front of him, then sat in the middle of the couch. She did her best to stare him down. Well, until he turned her world upside down. Literally. He pulled her across his thighs and placed one hand in the small of her back.
“I heard you,” he said, each word punctuated by a swat to her backside. “What I didn’t hear was your safe word.
New Jaxon’s hands were much harder than Old Jaxon’s, and Old Jaxon’s had been pretty darn hard.
“Is your safe word another of the many things you’ve changed while I’ve been away?”
It was never a good idea to laugh while over a Daddy’s knees, especially a sardonic laugh, but she couldn’t help it. He had made it sound like he was on vacation or something for a week instead of eight years in prison.
Her humor was immediately stifled as he swatted the backs of each thigh three times. Her laughter turned into a sharp cry that almost drowned out his words. Almost.
“If you have the desire to laugh, I must have lost my touch. Here, let me try harder.”
She tapped her toes against the floor, matching his rhythm. Shifting her weight, she did her best to shift off his lap. When that didn’t work, she tipped her hips so her cheeks faced the back of the couch. But he pressed his hand down on the top of her buttocks and pushed her back in place.
“You never did answer my question. What’s your safe word now, Taziana?” he repeated.
“It’s the same,” she cried out. “It’s red. But instead of a Valentine's heart, it now stands for the blood of my enemies, like you!”
Who knew a Daddy could laugh his head off while his hard, calloused hand whacked away at an already tender bottom? She couldn’t help it. She reached back to cover her backside.
“Red,” he mused. “Let’s see if I can turn your ass that color. And, by the way, if you don’t move that hand, I’m taking off my belt,” he growled. “Final warning.”
Scissoring her legs, she willed her hand to move. This time, he secured it to the small of her back under his hand.
Her eyes stung with tears she had no intention of shedding. A sniffle escaped. Damn it.
“I can’t believe that you care so little for yourself that you would even think about smoking a cigarette. Have you ever seen what a smoker’s lung looks like? By the time I’m finished, you’ll wish you’d never even heard of a cigarette.”
His admonishments were almost as painful as the swats were. Sometimes she hated them even more.
His hand peppered every inch of her bottom. He was relentless, and his hand felt more like a paddle. “But you knew that—” Smack! “—didn’t you?” Smack! “You were just trying—” Smack! “—to strike out at me.” Smack! Smack! Smack!
Drawing back his hand, he gave her one more swat, causing her to screech loud enough to send birds flying.
Standing, Jaxon placed her over the arm of the chair, her rear up in the air, her head on the seat cushions, toes barely reaching the floor. She yelped again when he swatted her again, right in the middle of her bottom.
“I didn't smoke it. I just took it out of the pack.”
That earned her two more swats, the hardest yet. “If I hadn’t been standing there to stop you, you would have. I could see it in the way you moved.”
“I said I was sorry!” She twisted and dodged, or tried to, but nothing she did interrupted the steady rain of smacks peppering her bottom. He didn’t bother with scolding anymore. He let his hand do all the talking, and it was very fluent.
Smack after smack landed on her backside, each leaving a burning sting. Her toes tapped the floor in that age-old dance performed by Little girls in her position. Nothing worked. He never missed his aim.
Twelve hard swats found their mark before he stopped, but only to march her back to the corner of the entertainment center and the wall.
Blinking hard against the tears, her sniffles grew louder. Instinctively, she rubbed her burning bottom.