Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
K iera
“You didn’t have to lock the door,” I muttered, my voice far poutier than I intended.
“Didn’t I?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.
My cheeks flushed and I looked away, focusing on the dark wood paneling lining the walls. The room was small, intimate, with a low-hanging chandelier casting a golden glow over the empty table in the center.
“You didn’t have to drag me in here at all,” I said, forcing some defiance back into my voice.
Ronan took a step closer, and I could feel the dark promise in his gaze even though I refused to meet it.
“You’ve been pushing me all night, Kiera,” he said, his voice calm, but carrying an edge that made my pulse quicken. “So, tell me—what is it you want? Another spanking? More of my cock?”
I bristled at the question, my arms tightening across my chest. “I want to go home,” I snapped.
“No, you don’t,” he said smoothly, taking another step closer. “Try again.”
I finally looked up, glaring at him despite the heat spreading through my cheeks. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been testing me since the moment we left your apartment,” he said, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “You think I don’t see it? The sass, the defiance, the way you try to see how far you can push before it burns you?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off before I could speak.
“You’ve been trying to get a reaction out of me, Kiera. And now you have it.”
I hated how my body reacted to his words—the way my heart raced, the way my skin prickled with awareness.
“I’m not trying to get anything out of you,” I said quickly, though the words sounded weak even to me.
The curve of his lips was dark and deliberate. “You can lie to me, love,” he said, his voice dipping lower. “But I see you. I’ve always seen you.”
The room felt too small, the air too thick. I took a step back, my shoulders brushing against the wall, and his gaze followed me, cold and unrelenting.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?” he asked, his tone sending a shiver down my spine. “For you?”
My chest tightened, the words hitting me harder than I wanted to admit. “Ronan…”
“You’ve been mine since the day I walked into your dorm and saw you,” he said, his voice steady and certain. “And now, I’m done waiting.”
My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst. His words hung heavy in the air between us, their weight sinking into my chest as I struggled to process what he was saying.
“You can’t just… decide that,” I said, my voice trembling slightly.
“Can’t I?” he asked, stepping closer until there was almost no space left between us.
The heat of him, the sheer presence of him, was overwhelming. My back pressed against the wall, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I tried to hold onto some shred of defiance.
“This is insane,” I whispered.
“No,” he said quietly, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face. “What’s insane is how long I’ve let you keep me at arm’s length.”
My body trembled as his fingers lingered near my jaw, his touch light, but deliberate. I hated how my skin burned under his hand, the way my pulse quickened, the way I couldn’t seem to find my voice.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The air between us was electric, crackling with a tension that felt like it might consume me. My fingers curled against the wall, my heart pounding as I struggled to find a response—any response.
But the truth was I didn’t have one.
Because for all my anger, all my defiance, I wasn’t sure I wanted him to stop.
I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of backing down, though.
“You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” I said, my voice more cutting than I felt. “Like I’m some little pawn in whatever game you’re playing?”
Ronan’s lips curled, his gaze flicking over me like he was weighing every inch of my defiance.
“You’re not a pawn, Kiera,” he said smoothly. “You’re the queen. But even queens must learn when to bow to their kings.”
I bristled at that, my jaw tightening. “I don’t bow to anyone,” I shot back, lifting my chin.
“Not yet,” he murmured, leaning in closer.
My pulse jumped, my breath catching as his words hung heavy in the air between us. His presence was suffocating, his dark eyes glinting with something that made my stomach twist in ways I didn’t want to acknowledge.
“You think you’re so intimidating,” I said, my voice shaking slightly as I forced myself to hold his gaze. “But you’re not. You’re just?—”
“Careful, love,” he interrupted, his soft voice soft making my chest tighten.
“Or what?” I snapped, my anger bubbling to the surface.
Ronan’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed, his smirk fading into something colder. He reached out, his fingers brushing against my wrist as he stepped even closer, his body crowding mine against the wall.
“Now you’re going to find out exactly what happens when I’ve had enough,” he said quietly, his voice low enough to send a shiver down my spine.
I opened my mouth to argue, but his next words stopped me cold.
“Bend over the table, Kiera,” he said, his tone calm and unyielding.
My heart slammed against my ribs, my breath hitching as the command sank in.
“What?” I whispered, the word barely audible.
“You heard me,” he said, his dark eyes locked onto mine. “Bend. Over. The table.”
The room felt impossibly small, the air too thick to breathe. I wanted to fight back, to throw his words back in his face, but the look in his eyes—the absolute certainty, the quiet authority—left no room for protest.
I hesitated, my fingers trembling as I gripped the edge of the wall. “You can’t be serious,” I said, though my voice wavered enough to betray me.
“Try me,” he said simply.
The darkness in his gaze was suffocating, making my pulse race with anxiety. My cheeks burned, and I could feel the heat spreading down my neck, my entire body buzzing with a mix of defiance and nervous anticipation.
I took a shaky breath, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
“This is insane,” I repeated, but even as the words left my lips, I found myself stepping away from the wall, my legs shaky as I moved toward the table.
The polished surface was cool against my palms as I leaned forward slightly, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I could feel him behind me, his presence a magnetic force that drew every nerve in my body to attention.
“Good girl,” Ronan murmured, his voice edged with something dark and thrilling.
My chest tightened at the words. My fingers curled against the table as I waited, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts I couldn’t untangle.
This was happening.
This was really happening.
The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the faint sound of my breathing and the soft rustle of fabric as Ronan stepped closer. Every nerve in my body was on high alert, the tension building to a point I thought I might snap.
“You have no idea how tempting it is to let you keep talking, love,” Ronan said, his voice darkly amused. “But even your sharp tongue has its limits.”
I clenched my fists as I forced myself to stand my ground. “You think you can just order me around, Ronan? Treat me like one of your—your lackeys?”
“Lackeys?” he repeated, amusement audible in his tone. “Is that what you think this is?”
I turned my head slightly, just enough to glance over my shoulder. His eyes met mine, dark and unreadable, and the faint curve of his lips sent a fresh wave of heat flooding my cheeks.
“This is me,” he said, stepping closer until I could feel the warmth of his body behind me, “teaching you a lesson you clearly need to learn.”
“I hate you,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
“But you’re still here,” he said smoothly, his hand brushing lightly against my lower back. The touch was firm, but not rough, steadying me against the table in a way that made my breath hitch.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I said, though the words felt hollow even as they left my lips.
“Doing what?” he asked softly. “Calling you out? Holding you accountable? Or making you admit what we both already know? That you want this. Every bit of this.”
I froze, my mind racing as his words sank in.
“You’ve been fighting me from the start, Kiera,” he continued steadily. “Pushing, testing, waiting to see how far you can go. But here’s the thing, love—you don’t set the limits. I do.”
I sucked in a breath, my body stiffening as his hand caressed my lower back, his touch firm and steady.
“You’re quiet now,” he said. I could hear the faint smirk in his tone. “What happened to all that sass?”
“It’s still here,” I shot back, though my voice came out shakier than I intended.
“Good,” he said simply, his hand pressing lightly against the curve of my hip. “I’d hate for you to lose it. It’s one of the things I like about you.”
I froze at that, my chest tightening. His words weren’t teasing—not entirely. There was something honest in them, something raw that sent my heart racing in ways I didn’t want to think about.
“And yet,” he continued, his voice dipping lower, “it still needs to be… tempered.”
Before I could respond, his palm came down on my right cheek with a loud crack, the sting blooming across my skin and pulling a gasp from my lips.
“Ronan,” I hissed, my voice catching on the edge of the word.
“Count, Kiera,” he said calmly, his hand resting lightly on my hip.
My cheeks burned, and I clenched my fists tighter against the table. “One,” I said through gritted teeth.
His hand came down again, the sting more brutal this time, and I squeezed my eyes shut as the heat spread through me.
“Two,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone softer now, almost gentle.
The words sent a shiver down my spine, the ache in my chest warring with the heat pooling low in my stomach. His hand brushed against my back, his touch steadying, soothing, before the next swat landed.
“Three,” I choked out, my voice cracking.
The sting was far harsher than I expected, but it was the softness of his hand afterward that unraveled me—the way his fingers traced the edge of where the heat lingered, his touch more intimate than punishing.
“You’re doing so well,” he said quietly, his voice like a balm against the harshness of his actions.
“Is this really necessary?” I snapped, my defiance sparking back to life even as my cheeks burned.
“Very,” he said simply, his hand trailing lightly over my back before delivering another, much stingier swat.
“Four,” I bit out, though the anger in my voice was quickly giving way to unwanted desire.
The final swat landed with deliberate precision, harsh enough to draw a gasp from my lips, but softened almost instantly by the warmth of his hand brushing over the sting.
“Five,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
And then, it was over.
The silence that followed was thick, charged with an energy I couldn’t explain. His hand lingered on my back, steady and grounding, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. My chest heaved with the effort of keeping my emotions in check, my fingers gripping the table like it was the only thing keeping me standing.
“Look at me, Kiera,” he said finally, his voice gentle.
I hesitated, my cheeks flaming as I pushed myself upright, my legs trembling slightly. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and the intensity in his gaze made my breath catch.
“Good girl,” he murmured again, his lips curving into a faint smile.
I hated how much the words affected me, hated the way they settled into my chest and left me feeling raw and exposed. But more than that, I hated the way I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
“Was that so terrible?” he asked.
“Yes,” I muttered, though the word lacked any real bite.
He chuckled softly, stepping closer until there was almost no space between us. His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face, and I felt the breath hitch in my chest all over again.
“Lift your dress, Kiera,” he said quietly, his tone calm, but leaving no room for argument.
My heart slammed against my ribs, my fingers curling into fists at my sides as the command sank in.
“What?” I whispered, the word trembling on my lips.
“You heard me,” he said, his dark eyes never leaving mine. “Lift your dress.”
I blinked up at him, my mind racing as a dozen thoughts collided at once. My pulse was hammering in my ears, my skin burning under his steady gaze.
“You can’t be serious,” I said finally, though my voice wavered enough to betray me.
He tilted his head slightly. “Do I look like I’m joking, love?”
My hands trembled at my sides, my mind spinning as I hesitated. Every nerve in my body was screaming at me to push back, to walk away, to say no. But the look in his eyes—the quiet certainty, the unshakable control—left me frozen in place.
Slowly, reluctantly, my fingers brushed the fabric of my skirt. The material was soft, the faint rustle loud in the heavy silence of the room as I gathered the hem in shaky hands.
I lifted it just enough to expose the tops of my thighs, the cool air brushing my skin sending a shiver racing down my spine. My cheeks burned hotter, the flush spreading across my chest as I forced myself to meet his gaze.
“Higher,” Ronan said softly.
My grip tightened on the fabric as I lifted it a few more inches. The vulnerability of the moment was almost unbearable, every inch of exposed skin feeling like a spotlight under his unrelenting gaze. My cheeks flamed red hot the second I lifted the skirt enough to bare my pussy. His gaze glanced down, and he stared for a long moment before he said anything at all.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Now bend back over the table. It’s time for me to finish what I started.”
I inhaled sharply, my heart slamming against my ribs. “Ronan?—”
“You’ve already done the hard part, love,” he interrupted smoothly. He was smiling, but there was nothing casual in his eyes. They were dark, sharp, and utterly certain. “Don’t start arguing now.”
“I’m not—” I started, but the words caught in my throat as he stepped closer.
“Bend,” he said again, his tone lower this time, more threatening.
Every instinct in me screamed to push back, to throw his words at him and walk out of the room with my pride intact. But the sheer presence of him—it was overwhelming.
My fingers trembled as I loosened my grip on the fabric of my skirt. Slowly, I turned back toward the table, my legs shaky as I leaned forward. My hands pressed against the polished surface, the coolness of the wood grounding me as I tried to steady my breathing.
I felt so exposed.
He could see everything .
Ronan stepped behind me, his movements slow and deliberate, and I hated how every inch of my body seemed to buzz with the awareness of him, with the knowledge that he was looking…
“You don’t realize how stunning you are, do you?” he said, his tone softening slightly as his hand brushed lightly over my back. The warmth of his touch seeped into my skin, steadying and commanding all at once. “Every time you push me, every time you defy me, you only make me want you even more than I do already.”
My chest tightened at his words, the ache in my stomach growing stronger as his hand slid lower, brushing against the curve of my hip.
“You drive me insane, Kiera,” he said. “But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
My heart raced as his words settled over me, heavy and unshakable. For all my anger, all my defiance, I couldn’t deny the pull between us—the way he saw me, the way his presence filled every corner of the room and left me with nowhere to hide.
Before I could say anything more, his hand came down sharply, the sting blossoming across my skin in an instant. I gasped, the sound catching in my throat as I gripped the table tighter.
“That’s for not knowing when to stop,” he murmured, his tone calm, as though we were having a polite conversation.
Another swat followed, harsher this time, and my breath hitched as the heat spread across my skin.
“And that,” he continued, his hand brushing lightly over the sting, “is for always needing to push, even when you know better.”
“You’re full of yourself,” I muttered tightly as I forced myself to glare at the table in front of me.
He let out a quiet chuckle, his hand pausing at the small of my back. “You say that now,” he murmured. “But I know the truth, Kiera. I always have.”
The next swat landed harder, hard enough to pull a gasp from my lips that I couldn’t contain. My breath came faster, my chest tightening as the heat deepened, radiating through me.
I bit my lip, willing the cries that were blooming in the back of my throat to keep quiet.
“Still fighting me,” he mused, the words soft, but edged with something that sent a shiver down my spine. “Good. It makes it worth the effort.”
Another piercing crack filled the room, the sting more brutal this time, and my breath hitched again, my body jerking slightly against the table. My fingers curled tighter around the edge, my knuckles white as I fought to stay still.
Then another swat fell. And another. And another until my entire ass burned from the hot sting of his firm hand.
“Ronan,” I hissed, though my voice was more breathless than defiant.
“Keep saying my name like that,” he said softly, his hand resting lightly on my back, “and you’ll get fucked right here and now.”
The next several swats were measured, and they sent a sharp wave of heat through me, leaving my breath short and shallow. My heart pounded in my chest, my pussy clenching tight as he spanked me harder and harder.
I wonder if all the people sitting at their tables outside this room could hear me getting my bare bottom spanked.
I was hovering on the edge of something—tears, anger, surrender. But he didn’t push me over.
Instead, he stopped.
The silence that followed was deafening, the absence of his hand more overwhelming than the sting it left behind.
“Now, reach back and spread that bright red ass. It’s time I dealt with the naughty little hole I’ve ignored all night.”
I froze as the meaning of his words sank in.
Was he fucking crazy?
I turned to glare at him over my shoulder, my defiance sparking back to life.
As soon as I turned, his palm connected with the curve of my ass, the sting sending a fresh wave of heat across the sensitive skin of my bare cheeks. I let out a choked sound, the harshness of his response catching me off guard, and quickly reached back.
With trembling fingers, I obeyed him and spread myself.
His palm rested against the small of my back, steadying and firm, and I let out a shaky breath as his other hand slid between my thighs. The touch was soft, his fingers tracing along the crease of my pussy, and I bit my lip, willing myself to stay still.
“So fucking wet,” he observed, and I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the touch of his hands between my legs, but it was impossible.
I was too ashamed and aroused to say anything in response.
But Ronan didn’t seem to expect one.
His fingers brushed over the tight rim of my asshole, sending a jolt through me. He kept the touch light, and I shivered under the intimacy of it.
“You have such a pretty ass, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “So responsive. So eager.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whispered, though the words sounded hollow even to me.
He chuckled, the sound curling through the air and settling in the pit of my stomach.
“Oh, love,” he said softly, his tone almost gentle. “I know what you need.”