Yum.
Or so I think, but then the first swat falls.
Harder than I expect.
It’s like it was in the station—a little too much.A little hurtier than I want, but not enough to mind.I wriggle over his knee, trying to dodge the firm slaps.He holds my wrists caged at my lower back and slaps my ass over and over again.
“Why am I punishing you, little girl?”His deep voice reverberates through my body.
I whimper, not from the pain, but from the question.I really don’t want to talk about this.It will definitely take all the fun out of this experience.
“Were you playing with matches?”
Okay, that’s still fun.It has way more of a naughty girl vibe to it thanDid you burn down your parents’ house with your family still in it?Did you leave permanent scars on your mother’s arm?Did you destroy all the family photos, heirlooms and property just because you have a fascination with fire?
“Yes, sir,” I gasp, suddenly wanting it harder.Wishing he’d spank this fire, this wicked obsession right out of me, forevermore.
He spanks me with steady, firm smacks and each one seems to reach that deep hidden place inside me, the one where I stuffed the darkness, tried to pretend it didn’t exist.It penetrates to the cache of guilt, the horror, the burden I carry every day.
I moan but not from pain.More from satisfaction.Because it feels so right to receive this discipline, the hard, stinging smacks, the relentless focus on my redemption.
“No more, Lia.”His voice is firm, almost a touch angry.“Not in my fire station.Not at home.No.More.Matches.”
I stop breathing, don’t even move except for the involuntary jerk of my hips under his smacks.
Is he really asking me to give up my matches?
I can’t!
“Did you hear me?”
I don’t answer, because I can’t.I’m choked up, a little frightened of the magnitude of what he’s asking.
He pulls me back up to stand, cupping my hot ass in his hands.His touch is gentle this time, not the hot, rough kneading of before, but gentle squeezes.“Look at me.”
I can’t meet his eyes.
“Lia.”
I swallow and drag my gaze from his shirt to his face.
“You can do this.”
Oh God, heunderstands.The fact that he knows how big his demand is, that he doesn’t just think I’m being defiant, makes this easier.
“You want to light a match, you come see me.I’ll give you what you need.”
My stomach flutters, wondering ifthisis what he thinks I need.More punishment.More pain.
I think he may be right.
I give a wobbly nod.“Okay.”It comes out as no more than a whisper.
“That’s my girl.”Blaze pulls me into him, as if for an embrace, but he affixes his lips to my right nipple again.I clutch the back of his head and wiggle my hips.
He pulls his lips off with a pop and pushes my hips back a few inches.Then he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my panties.
My breath hitches as he pulls them slowly down to my thighs.I got a Brazilian two days ago in preparation for this date at the advice of my bestie from high school.She’s a hairstylist and swears by waxing for a hot date.
