Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
CALEB
I kick the bedroom door shut behind me, cross the room in three strides, and set Nola onto the bed. She bounces once, hair fanning across the pillows, and looks up at me, breathless and flushed.
Her “Yes, Daddy” cut through the red haze of my fury.
Two words that go straight past my anger to the part of me that wants to possess her completely.
My cock throbs painfully against my zipper, the sight of her spread across my bed sending a jolt through me.
She shouldn’t be here. No one should be here.
And yet I can’t imagine her anywhere else now.
I stand over her, struggling to control my breathing, to slow the thundering of my heart. She looks up at me with those green eyes, not frightened but wary, cautious. Curious.
The fear I’d expected to see isn’t there. Not even after I carried her through my house like a goddamn caveman.
“Do you have any idea,” I say, my voice rough with the effort of restraint, “what it did to me when I couldn’t find you?”
She blinks, her lips parting slightly. “I was just—”
“Forty-seven minutes.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. “Forty-seven minutes of not knowing where you were. Of searching every room in this goddamn place. Of imagining—”
I cut myself off, unwilling to voice the scenarios my mind had conjured. Car accidents on mountain roads. Kidnappers who somehow breached my security. Her running, leaving, disappearing like everyone else eventually does.
“Caleb, I said I was sorry,” she says, and I believe her.
But sorry isn’t enough.
“You’re going to be.” I move closer, looming over her where she sits on the edge of my bed. “I’m going to make sure you remember this lesson, Nola. So you never, ever disappear on me again.”
Her pupils dilate, a flush creeping up her neck.
She’s turned on by this. By my dominance, my anger, my need to control her movements. By the idea of being punished.
Just like I am.
I’ve never shared this part of myself with anyone. Never trusted anyone enough to reveal this particular need. And yet with Nola, it emerged naturally from the first moment we kissed. Like she was made for this. Made for me.
I take a step back, creating space to think through the fog of arousal clouding my judgment.
“This is what’s going to happen,” I tell her, my voice steadier now. “I’m going to give you ten swats on that gorgeous ass of yours. One for each minute I thought you might be dead in a ditch somewhere.”
That’s a lie. I was panicking for far longer than ten minutes. But even in my current state, I know her limits. Ten is enough to make an impression without crossing into true pain.
“And if you take your punishment like a good girl,” I continue, watching her face carefully for any sign of discomfort with what I’m suggesting, “Daddy will reward you. I’ll lick that sweet cunt until you’re screaming. Give you my cock to soothe the sting.”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and my cock jerk in response.
“Yes, Daddy,” she says again.
Fuck. I’ll never get tired of hearing those words from her mouth.
But even through the haze of arousal and possessiveness, I know I need to be careful here. This is new territory for both of us, and I won’t risk really hurting her, no matter how much the darker parts of me want to mark her as mine.
“Before we do this,” I say, forcing myself to slow down, “we need a safeword.”
“A safeword,” she repeats thoughtfully. Then, with a small smile: “Lighthouse.”
“Lighthouse,” I echo, committing it to memory. “If you say that, everything stops. Immediately. No questions asked. Understand?”
She nods, and I shake my head.
“Say it, Nola. I need to hear you say it.”
“I understand,” she says clearly. “If I say ‘lighthouse,’ everything stops.”
“Good girl.” The praise comes naturally, and I’m rewarded with another flush of color across her cheeks. “Now stand up and take off your pants.”
She hesitates for just a moment before rising from the bed, her hands moving to the button of her slacks. I watch, hungry and impatient, as she slides them down over her hips, revealing a pair of white cotton panties that somehow manage to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Those, too,” I instruct, nodding toward her panties.
Another moment of hesitation, briefer this time, before she hooks her thumbs into the waistband and pushes them down, stepping out of both garments.
“Bend over the edge of the bed,” I growl. “Chest down, ass up.”
She turns and positions herself as instructed, bending at the waist to present her perfect ass to my gaze. The sight steals my breath. Pale skin, gentle curves, and between her legs, a glimpse of pink that tells me she’s as aroused by this as I am.
I move behind her, placing my left palm against her lower back. My right hand hovers over her exposed ass, anticipating the contact.
“Count them,” I instruct. “And thank me after each one.”
I don’t give her time to process the command before delivering the first swat, my palm connecting with her right cheek with moderate force. The sound is obscenely loud in the quiet room.
She gasps, her body jerking forward slightly under the impact. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve gone too far, if this was a mistake. Then:
“One,” she says, voice steady despite the slight tremor in her body. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Christ. Those words in her sweet mouth. I fight to maintain my composure as I raise my hand again.
The second swat lands on her left cheek, matching the first in intensity. Another gasp, another delicious shudder through her body.
“Two. Thank you, Daddy.”
My hand stings pleasantly with the impact, her flesh pinkening beneath my palm. I’m rock hard now, straining against my pants with an urgency that’s almost painful. But this isn’t about me. Not yet. This is about teaching her a lesson, about making sure she never scares me like that again.
I deliver the third swat to the sensitive spot where her right cheek meets her thigh, slightly harder than the previous two.
She sucks in a sharp breath, fingers curling into the bedspread. “Three. Thank you, Daddy.”
Fourth swat, left cheek this time, same intensity. Her response is immediate: “Four. Thank you, Daddy.”
But there’s something different in her voice now. A slight huskiness that wasn’t there before. I pause, studying her body language. Her thighs are pressed tightly together, shifting slightly. Not in pain, but in an effort to create friction where she needs it most.
She’s enjoying this.
The realization sends a fresh surge of blood to my cock. I knew she responded to my dominance, knew she liked it when I took control.
The fifth swat is harder, deliberate, landing squarely in the center of her right cheek. This time, her gasp has a different quality. A little higher, a little breathier. A sound of pleasure rather than pain.
“Five,” she says, and there’s no mistaking the arousal in her voice now. “Thank you, Daddy.”
I lean closer, unable to resist the urge to taunt her. “You like this, don’t you?” I murmur, my mouth close to her ear. “Being punished turns you on. I can see how wet you’re getting, baby girl.”
She makes a small, inarticulate sound, somewhere between embarrassment and need. I deliver the sixth swat without warning, harder than any of the previous ones.
“Ah!” The sound she makes is definitely not pain. “Six. Thank you, Daddy.”
“Look at you,” I continue, running my palm lightly over her reddened skin. “Taking your punishment so well. Such a good girl for Daddy. Even when you’re being punished.”
The seventh swat lands, and she pushes back into it, actually seeking the contact now. “Seven. Thank you, Daddy.”
“Your ass is so pretty in pink,” I tell her, watching as the color deepens across her pale skin. “But not as pretty as your pussy.” I allow my fingers to drift lower, brushing against the wetness between her legs. “So fucking wet. Is this all for me?”
“Yes,” she breathes, pressing back against my hand. “Yes, Daddy.”
I pull my hand away, denying her the touch she’s seeking. “Not yet, baby girl. Not until you’ve taken all your punishment.”
The eighth swat is the hardest yet, my palm connecting with her flesh in a strike that echoes through the room. She cries out, but it’s a sound of pleasure, her body trembling not with pain but with need.
“Eight. Thank you, Daddy.” Her voice is strained now, desperate.
I deliver the ninth and tenth swats in quick succession, one to each cheek, not holding back. She takes them beautifully, counting through gasps that sound suspiciously like moans.
“Nine. Thank you, Daddy. Ten. Oh God, ten. Thank you, Daddy.”
I stand back to admire my handiwork. Her ass glowing pink, her thighs trembling, her pussy visibly wet with arousal. Mine. All mine. The possessiveness that sweeps through me is absolute. I want to mark every inch of her as my territory, make sure she knows exactly who she belongs to.
“Good girl,” I praise, my voice rough with need. “You took your punishment so well.”
She turns her head, looking at me over her shoulder with eyes dark with desire. “Is Daddy pleased with me?” she asks, and the innocence in her tone nearly undoes me.
“So pleased,” I assure her, running my hand over the heated flesh of her ass. “And now for your reward.”
I drop to my knees behind her, positioning myself at eye level with her perfect pussy. The scent of her arousal hits me like a drug, making my mouth water with anticipation.
“Spread your legs wider,” I command, and she complies immediately, opening herself to my gaze.
I take a moment to appreciate the view.
“Look how wet you are,” I murmur, tracing one finger along her slit without penetrating. “All this just from being punished. What a perfect little girl for Daddy.”
Nola whimpers and pushes back against my hand.
“Please,” she whispers, desperation clear in her voice.
“Please what?” I prompt.
She hesitates only a moment.
“Please lick my clit, Daddy. Please make me feel good.”