Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Savannah
“Now, Thayer,” I begin pleadingly. Hoping for a little mercy, a little time.
Narrowing his eyes, he lowers his voice and repeats, “Strip.”
I slowly peel off my clothes, knowing that Thayer’s about to punish me for disobeying him. I could argue my case, but I want to know what this is like. If the arousal I’m feeling right now is any indication, it might be one of the most erotic things I’ve ever done.
Still, I have to tell him what happened.
Standing before him in nothing but my panties and a bra, even the wig discarded in my pile of clothing, I feel a strange mix of fear and arousal and something that concerns me more than anything—the need for his approval.
Since when do I care about that?
I take a deep breath and tell him in a rush of words. “Listen, I told you, I was in the room waiting like you told me, and I heard voices. Someone came in the room, Thayer. They came and were talking, and I had to leave.”
Thayer looks concerned about what I’m telling him. “Who was it?”
I can hear the hidden implication. And why is he just hearing about this now?
“I think it was one of your couples or something. That’s what it sounded like anyway. I have no idea, but I knew no one else was supposed to be in that room. I figured it was someone you wouldn’t want to see me, so you wouldn’t want me in there with them.”
He blows out a breath. “Tell me everything that happened.”
I tell him everything I can remember—their voices, how many I heard, what they said.
My cheeks flush when I repeat the words I can remember.
My heartbeat thunders while I tell him all this.
I don’t want him to think I’m lying or embellishing anything, but it feels as if I were at a peep show in a private party, and I don’t want him to know how those words made me feel.
He makes a quick phone call, I’m not sure to whom. They sound familiar and close, almost like he’s talking to Fabien, but I know Fabien and Nicolette will be leaving soon. When he hangs up the phone, I have his complete and undivided attention, whether I want it or not.
It might have something to do with the fact that he looks both handsome and powerful. His eyes seem bright with anticipation. Butterflies flutter in my stomach.
“You know, if you were mine, I’d have to punish you,” he says in a husky voice, as he begins to tug up his sleeves. He takes a step closer to me. I swallow hard and prepare myself for what comes next, whatever it is.
“Have to?” I challenge. He’s visibly aroused, and very much not dreading what he’s about to do.
“Have to. You’re in my care. You stated as much to Fabien and Nicolette, didn’t you?”
“Did I?”
“You’re not going to sidetrack me, Savannah.” I have a feeling a nuclear bomb wouldn’t sidetrack him.
I bite my lip and nod. When I open my mouth to speak, I find it so dry I don’t know what to say.
I’m so confused. Is he going to punish me, or does he only wish he could?
Why does the second option make me feel sad, like I’m bereft of something I’m longing for?
And why did he have me strip?
My pulse beats faster as he slowly, lazily drags his eyes down the length of my body.
“I know why you left the room. I’m sorry you weren’t as safe as I thought.
There’s been a security breach, and we suspect there’s someone on the inside responsible.
We aren’t sure if it was accidental or not, and it will take some time to sort out. ”
I nod. Sure. Makes sense. That’s what guys like him do. They “flush out security breaches” and whatever else that entails. I’m still pretty much fixated on this whole idea of punishment.
He brings his gaze to mine. The dark slash of his brows makes his eyes look as blue as a rain-kissed sky, and the way they’re looking at me now…
“Have you ever been spanked, Savannah?”
I blink, trying to keep my calm, because I’m not sure why that question from him makes me all kinds of aroused. Seconds tick by that feel like minutes while he peruses every inch of me and clearly likes what he sees.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Not even as a child?”
Again, I shake my head.
Slowly, he rolls up his other sleeve, bringing his eyes back to mine. “Have you thought about it?”
“Spanking?” I say in an oddly high-pitched voice.
“Mhm,” he says as he takes a step closer to me. “Spanking.”
I shake my head. It’s a lie, though. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop since he brought up the subject.
Now that he’s close, that masculine scent of his overwhelms me. Lowering his voice, he gives me another once-over that makes my skin feel on fire.
“Have you ever been dominated?”
I have to admit, I didn’t really think of myself as inexperienced… until Thayer. Now I realize I’ve only been in one little corner of Planet Earth and there’s an entire solar system of experiences I have yet to experience.
“So you’re not a virgin,” he says softly, stepping so close I can see the depths of his blue eyes.
Each distinct eyelash. The masculine cut of his stubble-covered jaw and his full, pursed lips.
The long, strong column of his neck and his dark hair that would be too long on anyone but him. I shake my head.
“Are you a kink virgin?”
I think my little squeak when I open my mouth to respond is answer enough for him.
“I see.” He shakes his head and speaks in a low voice. “Why don’t you tell me what would happen if you were mine, Savannah.”
Why is it that this time, I’m filled with the inexplicable wish that I was his? Even though he’d punish me.
Okay, so this I think I know the answer to. “You’d punish me so I learn to be obedient.” I nod my head, pleased at my response. I deserve a gold star for that one.
I realize with a quick thump of my heart that the way he nods in approval is even better than a gold star.
“Yes. Because not only does your behavior reflect on me as master of this club, but because you asked me to protect and watch over you. Since you’re new, I would take it easy on you the first time.”
I shiver at the implication: the next time, he’ll be harsher.
Why does even that excite me?
“You went from one dangerous situation to another, only in this one, I have a lot more control over what happens.” His tone sharpens. “You’re only safe inasmuch as you follow my rules.”
Okay, alright, we can go with this. I lick my dry lips.
“Right,” I whisper. “And if I… were yours… that would be the wrong thing to do.” I nod like a good little student.
“Exactly. I would put you over my lap. That’s not always the way it would go.”
Hoo-boy. Okay then.
Do I want to experience this, or not?
Yes, yes, so much yes.
I nod and shift my feet as I watch him pull out the desk chair. He folds his strong, sexy body into the chair, spreads his knees, and reaches for my hand. It feels so little and soft in his larger, rougher one.
“If you were mine, I’d lay you over my lap.”
When he tugs my hand, I pull back. I brace my legs and stand stock-still.
I can’t do this.
I tell myself to move my feet, to do what he says, but they seem to be made of lead. I try to lift one foot, then the other, but I can’t move them at all. Suddenly, the thought of putting myself into that position doesn’t sound sexy at all.
Then why is my pulse racing so crazily?
“I, uh, I’m not so sure about this,” I begin. I want to remind him that I’m not actually his, but I’m not so sure I want to give voice to those thoughts.
“I wouldn’t allow you to stall,” he says sharply. “If you didn’t lay yourself over my lap by the time I counted to ten, we’d begin with a visit to my closet.”
Uh, what is that supposed to mean? What?
“Your closet?”
“Ten.”
“Wait, what the heck is in your closet?”
Is this not hypothetical?
“Nine.”
“Thayer!”
“Eight.”
“Okay, okay.” Do they all do this? Is this normal?
I stand next to his legs, feeling oddly small and out of place. “I don’t know how to do this,” I say in a rush of words, half begging him to take it easy on me. “I don’t think I can. I’m afraid I’ll do it wrong.”
With a nod, he takes my hand. “Like this, Savannah. You’d lay over my lap like this. It can be hard to take that first step. Let me help you.”
I find myself with my belly across his knees, my legs dangling. I’m not sure why, but I like the way this feels. There’s a sort of warm reassurance over his lap, where I’m vulnerable and exposed. I tremble in anticipation, wondering what it really, truly would be like to be his.
When he rests his hand on my ass, a warm pulse of arousal spreads through me.
“If we were doing this for fun,” he says softly, his hand running over the curve of my ass, “I’d make good and sure you were turned on first.” I close my eyes when he encircles my waist and holds me closer to him, just before I feel the back of his hand on my thighs, spreading them.
Heat flares across my face and chest when he strokes between my legs.
“I might even let you keep your panties on before I made sure you were wet.”
The first stroke of his touch makes me jolt, surprised with the intense flare of pleasure that electrifies my body.
Blood rushes in my ears at the first slap across my ass. It stings, but only a little. Warmth floods through me. “Thayer,” I say, because I want him to stop, I’m so embarrassed and nervous.
He ignores me and continues, “We’d start nice and gentle, until you were thoroughly warmed up.” A few light slaps show me what he means. Every spank stings, but only briefly as the bundle of nerves between my legs pulses. My mouth is dry, and I’m so damn aroused I feel like I’m going to combust.
“You’d know that I was the one in charge, but you’d also know you were safe.”
Safe.
The word echoes through my mind like a mantra. I long to know it’s true, that I really am, for the first time in my life, actually safe.
I feel the flat of his palm against my skin, the panties doing little to protect me. Ripples of pleasure pervade my senses.