Chapter 15
Fifteen
Sadie
I don’t know if I’m supposed to be turned on right now, but I am.
Maybe it’s a pregnancy hormone thing. If you had told me a year ago that I would be getting hot and bothered by an arrogant man telling me what to do, I would have slapped you and called you wrong.
But here we are.
When Luke steps up to me, threatening me with this punishment that I so desperately crave, it feels like a game. I have to push his buttons. He wants me to. And I want to. The more I push, he pushes back, and we both play our roles to perfection. Which is why I raise my chin and utter a harsh “Fuck you” before turning on my heel and marching away.
Of course, I don’t get far. But, to be fair, I don’t want to.
He snatches me by the arm and hauls me toward him, dragging me across the living room toward the couch. Rather than bending me over it like he did in the classroom that day, he sits in the middle. My core tightens with arousal as he smacks his lap and mutters, “Lie down. ”
I freeze with my lips parted. “What?”
“Across my lap now, Miss Green,” he says angrily.
It’s somehow even hotter than being folded over a desk, except now I’m suddenly realizing that I’m wearing a skirt. Which sort of takes this to a whole new level. And I’m not sure we’re ready for that. Because once I lie across his lap, my ass will be exposed and he’ll be touching it.
Is that what he wants? Is that what I want?
Because to be honest, if he puts me over his knee and slaps my ass, I can’t promise I won’t come right here in his lap. And that might be a little embarrassing if that’s not what we’re going for.
When I don’t move for a moment, he grabs me by the arm and tugs me down. As I drape my stomach over his legs, I realize it’s only a matter of time before I won’t be able to do this anymore. Eventually, my stomach will be too full.
God, what am I thinking? Are we even going to be doing this for that long?
I’m in my head too much right now.
But when Luke flips up my skirt, exposing the cotton underwear beneath, I feel him tense.
“You’re a brat. You know that, don’t you, Miss Green?” His voice is strained and a little hoarse.
“Yes,” I whimper.
“And brats deserve this, don’t they?”
“Yes,” I repeat.
“Say it, Miss Green. Tell me you deserve this.”
God, this is so hot I could die. “I deserve it,” I say.
“Tell me to punish you, you little devil.”
“Punish me,” I squeak. “Please, Dr. Goode. Punish me.”
When his hand grips the soft flesh of my ass, I squeeze my eyes closed because it’s all too much. He seems so in control and out of control at the same time. It’s erotic and exciting, but my mind is a mess—cleared only when his hand lifts from my backside and comes down with an echoing smack .
And then everything is quiet and good . A wave of tranquility drowns me immediately. It all feels so right.
Small yelps and moans escape my mouth with each slap of his hand. It doesn’t hurt, not really. But even in the pain, there’s something stronger than comfort. In some weird way, when he’s doing this, I don’t feel so alone. I don’t feel like I’m being punished or hurt or degraded. For the first time in my life, it feels as if I’m getting exactly what I asked for from someone who might actually understand me.
I lose count of the smacks when Luke lets out a growly question. “Have you learned your lesson, Miss Green?”
I don’t want it to end, so I shake my head.
“No? Very well then,” he replies.
The spankings are rapid and loud but not too aggressive or hard. Of course, this time, they’re on my ass rather than through my pants, so they sting a bit more. I love the idea of my backside turning red from his hand.
As I shift on his lap, I feel something hard against my side, and I know exactly what it is. And knowing this turns him on makes it even better for me. After a few more, his hand stills on my ass, squeezing again and rubbing the tender flesh.
“That’s enough,” he says, sounding breathless and spent.
But it’s not enough. I crave more. Not more pain or even more punishment. Just more of this moment. It’s exhilarating that we have somehow returned to this situation that at first was awkward and unexpected.
But knowing that we both wanted it so much that we found ourselves here again means something. It means that we can get back to this moment again. I know, and he knows exactly what we need to do—the roles we have to play.
As I climb off his lap, I feel a moment of satisfaction—mostly because I know, at some point, we’ll get to do it again.
“Oh my god,” Sage squeals, holding the flimsy page of black-and-white ultrasound photos between her fingers. “Look at how cute it is!”
“It is not cute,” I reply, scanning the inventory on the computer. “It’s a blob of cells with a heartbeat. Relax.”
“Okay, but it will be cute,” she says, which makes me chuckle.
“Well, I assume it will be, but right now, it feels more like a condition than a baby.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a doctor’s appointment? I would have gone with you,” she says as she sets the pictures down next to me.
I clear my throat and fidget in my seat. “Well, I didn’t go alone.”
“Don’t tell me Jax went with you,” she says with a huff.
I can’t help but wince. “Actually,” I say, “it was Luke.”
After a long moment of confusion, her hand slams onto the desk next to me. “Shut up,” she barks. “Luke as in Luke Goode?”
Recoiling, I nod. “That one.”
She’s gaping in astonishment. “Dr. Lucas Goode went to your ultrasound appointment today?”
Standing from the chair, I put my hands up in front of me in surrender. “Listen, before you make something out of nothing here, it wasn’t like that.”
“Okay, what was it like then?” she asks.
“Luke and I have a unique relationship,” I explain uneasily.
“Unique how ?” she asks.
My face screws up as I try to figure out a way to word this. “It’s not romantic, and we’re not even really friends,” I say. “He’s just taken an interest in helping me out.”
“Oh, yeah, that sounds very normal.” Her tone is laced with sarcasm. “Taking care of you, how ?”
“Well, for one, he’s letting me stay in his spare bedroom until I figure things out on my own.
“Okay…” she says. “And that’s not against school po licy?”
A laugh bursts through my lips. “Oh, I’m quite sure it’s against school policy.”
The other things we like to do are against policy, too, but I don’t mention that part.
“Listen,” I continue, “Luke is the kind of guy who just has his shit together, and I don’t, so he’s helping me get my shit together.”
I knew Sage would be surprised by this development, hence why I waited so long to tell her. She’s the least judgmental person I know, but even I can understand how shocking this is.
“So, is he like your daddy now?” she asks with a laugh, and I shove her softly on the shoulder.
I twist my face in disgust. “Shut up. He is not my daddy, and it’s not like that. I told you.”
She laughs again. “I can’t picture anyone living with Luke.”
“Actually,” I say, dying to change the subject. “I get the feeling someone else lived in his guest room before me, but he doesn’t seem to want to talk about that.”
“Oh, really?” she asks. “I doubt he’d have a roommate without Adam knowing about it.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Luke likes his privacy.”
“True,” she replies. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a mess.”
“I appreciate that.”
“So…” she says as she leans against the desk, placing her hands on either side of her hips, “tell me all about this doctor’s appointment and what it was like to have Luke in the room with you while you got probed by your obstetrician.”
My head hangs back as I laugh. I have to admit, it’s kind of nice to have someone else to relate to with all of this. Sage is in the second half of her pregnancy, which means she’s already gone through everything I’m about to go through, and it gives me a sense of comfort.
I tell her all about the doctor’s visit and my neurotic behavior. After a good long laugh back in the office, we open the club and Adam shows up to take Sage home. She’s cut her hours back a lot in the past couple of months, and it fills me with a sense of pride that she trusts me enough to pick up the slack.
After she’s gone, I take a little stroll around the club to make sure everything is going accordingly. I check in with the bartenders and then with the floor staff. Once done, I find myself meandering around less for work purposes and more for personal ones. I find myself watching the open playroom, and for the most part, it’s pretty tame tonight.
It’s funny how working in a sex club for the past couple of years has completely desensitized me to public sex and intimacy, which is what makes it so odd that today, on Lucas’s lap, had such a visceral effect on me. I thought I knew everything about my tastes, kinks, and my desires. I don’t get turned on by pain or bondage or even submission.
So it doesn’t make sense why every time I’m around Lucas and he talks to me and treats me the way he does, I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin and not in a bad way. It makes me feel so alive. It consumes me with desire and passion.
As I watch a couple in the corner, the woman chained to the wall, and the man swatting at her ass with a flogger, I know it’s not quite the same.
Is it him? Is it us? Today, he called me a brat, and not for the first time. Maybe that’s what I am. Maybe that’s what I want. Someone who doesn’t just tolerate me in my stubborn, rebellious ways but celebrates it. Someone who enjoys it, gets off on it, participates in it, and plays the role that I so desperately crave.
Maybe this is something I should be seeking in the bedroom with an actual romantic partner and not my English professor. But Luke makes it so easy.
It’s too good to quit.
I’m just worried about how long this can last and where it’s going to go from here.