I squeak, panic and anticipation an aphrodisiac to my overloading system. Wetness gushes into his waiting palm, embarrassing me.
He laughs, a sound so sinful I flush on top of my already hot cheeks. “I think it’s time you got acquainted with the spanking bench. I have a feeling you’re going to be spending a lot of hours there.”
The words rush over my skin, then sink in. I shake my head as the reality of my situation comes into crystal focus. He’s going to hit me. Spank me.
“No, please.”
“Yes.” He grasps my arm, pulling me to a black leather seat I previously thought was a workout bench. I drag my feet, willfully resisting him with the weight of my body.
He shoots me a sharp, annoyed glare. “Are you going to fight me every step of the way?”
“B-but…” I stare at the bench, eyes wide. “I don’t want to.”
He drops my arm and walks over to the bench, reaching underneath the black leather seat. With a flick of his wrist, part of the seat angles up and the other drops, transforming it into one of the benches I saw on the internet.
Wildly, I look around the room with a fresh set of eyes. Before I can reassess, Mason’s voice snaps me to attention.
“I’m only going to say this once.” He rests his palm on the angled part of the bench. “Feisty can be cute, but outright defiance is not. Either get your ass over here, or call this off and go home. The choice is yours, Anna.”
Naked, exposed, and more vulnerable than I’ve ever felt in my life, I twist my hands to keep from doing something stupid, like scratching his eyes out. “Why are you doing this?”
Hard-eyed, he studies me with a stoic mask that shows no mercy. “You picked this path, remember? You didn’t want to talk. You wanted to get it over with. So here we are.”
“B-but—” That wasn’t what I meant, and he knows it.
“Enough. Get on the bench or sayred.” He taps his fingers impatiently on the leather.
It’s a standoff.
He glances over my shoulder, looking meaningfully at something. I peer around, following his line of sight. A black iron clock hangs on the wall, ticking away without sympathy or kindness. Relentless.
An eerie silence falls over the room as tension fills the space between us.
Tick, tick, tick.
The sound amplifies, seeming to punctuate Mason’s growing disapproval.
“Eyes on me, Anna.” An order.
I obey without hesitation, acting on some sort of survival instinct.
“It’s not about force.” The words hold no softness, but I detect a flash of emotion in his expression. “You either want it or you don’t. It’s that simple.”
There’s nothing simple about it. This changes everything. But I don’t want to quit. Not now. I straighten my shoulders and walk toward the bench.
It’s time for my punishment.
5
Mason
Iput the flat of my palm on Anna’s back as she drapes herself over the bench. To block out the sight of her beautiful body, I close my eyes. I can’t afford to get distracted by what I want. I need to focus on her, and her reaction. I listen to her quick, somewhat shallow breathing, feel the rise and fall of her rib cage.
Right where I want her.
A little fear is good, exciting, but I don’t want her terrified. I travel the lines of her spine, down the curve of her waist and ass to her tightly clasped thighs.
“Spread your legs, Anna.”