Reece
“Oh, darling,” I say. “That dress looks smashing on you. Positively smashing.”
Ashely giggles at my terrible attempt to fake an English accent as I impersonate the saleswoman that helped us.
“She just wanted you to buy it,” she laughs. “I mean—you look amazing in that Vera Wang. Red is totally your color, but she was laying it on a little thick, wasn’t she?”
I slip my keycard in the handle, pushing open the door to the room while balancing armfuls of packages. “I know, right—” My words lodge in my throat as I take in the scene in my hotel room.
Daddy Bryant is standing in the foyer, stony-faced, hands on his hips. He lowers his voice and a rumbling growl seeps into his tone.
He doesn’t even wait for us to step into the room. “Could either of you have picked up your phone when I called?”
“You just called. Like one minute ago.” I try to laugh off his anger, but the sound dissolves in my chest. “We were in the lobby when you called us. We didn’t think we’d need to answer—”
Ashely jumps in, helping me out, “We knew we’d be up in a second. Sorry, Mr. Long. We didn’t mean to scare you.” She sets my other shopping bags down on the island. Clearing her throat, she looks from him, back to me. She shoots me an apologetic look. She’s going to ditch me… “Ah—I’ve got to be going. I’ve still got a few calls to put into the office at home. You guys have a great evening!”
Seriously, Ashely? I mean, I know we’re not besties but still, you could be on my side just a little bit… then I take a closer look at Bryant’s stony face. Yeah, okay, if I were her, I’d be running out of here as well.
And with a flutter of her fingers and the gentle closing of the door, she’s gone. Leaving me alone. With a very angry daddy.
He runs a hand over the back of his neck. His blue eyes have storm clouds gathering in them. “You couldn’t just pick up your phone? Is it so hard?”
“Ashely didn’t pick hers up either and you’re not yelling at her.” I slide the bags from my arms, letting them fall to the ground.
He’s over to me in one step, his hand capturing the back of my head and bringing my ear to his mouth. “Ashely. Is not mine. You are.”
A shiver runs through me. I am his. It’s a wonderful feeling, and yet there’s a nagging sense of fear clenching at my stomach.
I’m his.
And his to do what he wants with.
And right now…
“I’m going to punish you.” His fist wraps around my hair, tugging it until prickles of heat run over the back of my neck. “So the next time I call you, you’ll know. You pick up.”
“Yes, daddy.” My words are barely audible. A whisper against his stubbled cheek.
His hands are at my waist, undoing my button, lowering my zipper. He’s shoving my jeans over my hips, down to the middle of my thighs. The cool air dances over my bare skin, chill bumps rising on my flesh.
My words tremble as I ask. “Wh—what are you going to do to me?”
His lips move down the side of my neck, teeth nipping at my flesh. His only answer is his thumbs hooking into the elastic waistband of my panties, tugging them down to meet the tops of my jeans.
He smooths his hands over my bare ass. His fingertips dig into the curve of my bottom where it meets the tops of my thighs. He then drags them back up my ass, fingers digging into my skin.
A moan rises in the back of my throat. What is he going to do to me? My stomach flips and flops, desperate to know what my future holds.
He grabs my hips, moving me towards the island. He pulls out one of the backless, armless barstools. One hand on my waist, the other on my lower back, he bends me over the stool.
My belly sinks over the cold leather. My hands go to the wrought iron legs of the stool. My palms are damp with perspiration and they slip over the metal as I grab it to balance my upper body.
My legs hang down behind me, the tips of my toes barely grazing the wood floors. My hair hangs down around my face. My bare ass is on full display for him.
I hear the clinking of his metal belt buckle unlatching. My ass cheeks clench. No way. He’s not planning on using his belt on me. Is he?
I get my answer in the form of leather dragging over the fullest part of the curve of my ass.
Yes, he’s going to use his belt.
I tremble, my hands tightening around the metal legs of the stool. He leaves the belt resting on my ass. It’s light, its weight barely registering but it feels like it’s a thousand pounds when I imagine the sting it will make.
Nerves flood in. “I’m sorry. I should have picked up. But is this really necessary—”
“Very necessary. And I want to. I’ve wanted to since the first time I set eyes on this beautiful ass.”
I give a little shudder of tense anticipation.
His words are a rake over coals. “Do I have your permission?”
His question, which sounded totally like a demand, hangs in the air. He drags the cool leather over my bare skin once more. The belt is soft, tickling my skin. But I know if I let him spank me with it, it’s going to go from sweet to stinging.
Do I want to agree to this?
He’s shown me pleasure in pain.
And… I’m curious.
“Yes—ah!” Before I even can take a breath after consenting, the belt comes lashing down. My words go to a sharp intake of breath as he lifts the belt and snaps it down again. Fire dances over my skin, two trails of burning heat making my mouth gape and my eyes fly open wide. “Oh my god! Seriously? That hurts!”
“It should hurt. It should hurt enough to make you remember what I require of you. Which is…”
I can’t think clearly as the pain ebbs. “Huh?”
“Why are you being punished, kitten?” He drags the belt across my ass. The leather is soft and sweet again as it glides across my burning flesh. “Why am I setting a fire to your ass? What do I want you to remember?”
“To answer your phone calls?” My teeth clench together as another spank of the belt comes crashing down over my ass. “Yeow!”
He drags the belt over the hot lines he’s made. The belt is gone, hovering for a moment before it comes down again, a loud crack echoing through the hotel room. The pain bursts across my skin. White lighting, a flash of inferno. Tears burn at the backs of my eyes.
“Babygirl. Tell daddy. Tell daddy how sorry you are.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up the phone. I promise I will next time.” I dance on the balls of my feet, shifting my weight. I can’t take another spank. I beg him. “Please.”
I hear the belt drop to the ground. A breath of relief rushes through me. He grabs me in his arms, lifting me from the stool. He sinks onto the barstool, pulling me into his lap. My ass burns as it presses against his thighs. He holds me against him. I sniffle, wiping my damp eyes on his shirt.
He smooths his hand over my hair, down my back, whispering against my cheek. “I was so worried. I don’t ever want to feel that again. If I call, I need you to tell me where you are. To tell me that you’re okay.”
“I will,” I say. “I promise.”
The heat from my ass travels, warming me between my thighs. Pain to pleasure…
A pool of arousal escapes me. Will I leave a damp patch on his trousers? The thought has me equal parts turned on and humiliated. The stripes from his belt start to throb. Then my pussy starts to throb. The punishment was pain, turning now to some form of shameful pleasure. I squirm in his hold.
I want him to touch me.
I want him to make this aching between my legs disappear.
I want…him.
“Please,” I beg. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I fold into him. “Please.”
He knows what I want, his fingers traveling up my naked thigh.
“Bad girls don’t get to come like this…” he slips the tip of his finger over the seam of my sex.
“How—how do bad girls get to come?” I ask, my breaths coming in hard pants. His fingers leave me wanting, begging for more. “Please. Touch me.”
“Bad girls come from getting fucked…” His fingers slip under my ass, pressing at the tight ring of muscles there. “Here.”