Shayla Black - Theirs to Cherish

There was definitely something wrong with her.

“Don’t I get a safe word?” she demanded.

“I’m not strapping you to a cross and unleashing a single tail on you, so don’t insult me. I know you. I’ve spanked you before.”

For demonstration purposes, yes. In fact, the first time, she’d giggled—until he landed a single smack on her ass. Then it hadn’t been funny anymore. By the fifth swat, she’d been uncomfortably wet. By the tenth, she’d had to bite back a plea to come. Thorpe had some mysterious effect on her that she didn’t understand.

“I’m not afraid. Last time you did this, you couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough. When you did, you couldn’t wait to run away. You’re not going to do anything to me now.”

Thorpe’s grip on her tightened.

Crap, she was taking a huge chance by throwing that night in his face. No doubt, she was pissing him off. She suspected she was also arousing him, because as she wriggled on his lap, Callie couldn’t miss the fact that he was hard as hell.

“Wrong,” he quipped in her ear. “I’m going to spank you until you answer my question and apologize for your disrespect.”

“You’re not my Dom.”

“But I am a Dom, and this behavior is unbecoming. Start counting, pet. Don’t stop until I do.”

Callie tried again to squirm away. She rubbed against his cock, and he hissed. Then his palm landed on her ass in a blistering blow.

“Ouch!” she protested, resisting the urge to rub her right cheek.

“Yes, that’s why it’s called punishment.”

“This is Sean’s right, not yours.” She grasped at straws.

“Not if you’ve rescinded his collar. Since you said you had, I’ll remind you that you live here, you work for me, and you’re being very bratty. That’s three strikes, pet.”

She had no chance to scrape together a reply before he hit her again. Her left cheek stung, but not as much as her pride. And it didn’t take long for tingles to dance across her skin. Her blood heated, and her body melted under his touch.

Damn it.

“You haven’t counted yet,” he pointed out. “Shall we start over?”

“I’ve never understand a Dom’s fascination with a sub counting. You’re educated. You can get to ten without me.”

“You think I’m stopping at ten?” he drawled.

Callie drew in a breath and tried to calm herself. “Thorpe, please . . . Can’t I have a little privacy? Isn’t it enough for you to know that Sean didn’t mean to upset me?”

“No. As long as you’re at Dominion, that’s my call. I’ve protected you for years and I don’t plan on stopping.” He paused. “It pleases me to know you’re safe, but I find all this defiance when I’m trying to help you deeply disappointing.”

The fight went out of her. Callie hated to let Thorpe down. Most everyone else could blow it out their ass for all she cared. But the big Dom mattered too much to her—and he knew it.

“You’re being manipulative,” she grumbled. “One. And two.”

“I’m always manipulative when you’re being both mouthy and dishonest. If Mr. Kirkpatrick didn’t show you the error of your ways, I will.” He punctuated the statement with another swat to her right cheek.

“Three.” She knew she sounded pouty.

Thorpe always got the best of her. Half the time she couldn’t decide if she resented that as much as the way their verbal fencing made her ache endlessly for him. It didn’t matter that she inevitably lost their battles of will. The power radiating off Thorpe aroused her like nothing else. It always had.

But Sean had a huge chunk of her heart. What sucked more was that caring about either—much less both—of them was not only futile, it could be deadly.

THORPE couldn’t take his eyes off Callie’s reddening ass . . . just like he’d never been able to in the past. He took a particular pride in knowing she wore his mark, even temporarily.

God, he was a sick fuck. But that wasn’t going to stop him.

He had to discipline her. More important, he had to give her a reason to stay.

Her body perched over his lap, her every muscle tense. She panted. Her skin flushed. Callie might be angry as hell with him, but one thing was clear and sent a jolt of electric desire to his cock: She hadn’t stopped wanting him in the last two years any more than he’d stopped craving her. And if she was going to rescind Kirkpatrick’s collar, now might be his only chance to touch her. If she still ran, it would hurt like hell—but he couldn’t let this chance slip by.

Dragging in a ragged breath, he brought his hand up and smacked her ass again, repeating the gesture the second the count left her lips. Slowly, her body thawed until she sank into him, her responses turning breathy.

Ten, eleven, twelve . . . He slipped into a rhythm, slow and meaningful, deliberate, measured, strong. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen . . . Why was it so fucking easy to get into his Dom space with Callie? He never had to try. The moment he touched her, it was there, a boundless pool of it. He felt her needs as if they were his own. With her sprawled across his lap, he could read her utterly, each and every nuance.

She wanted him. Yes, she’d been thinking about that goddamn Scot earlier. She was likely also wondering how she could have feelings for two men at once. As much as he disliked Kirkpatrick, Thorpe wondered that, too. But that bastard was no longer important. This tempo, his punishment, her peace—they both needed it. Then he’d bring her against his chest and care for her, cuddle and shower her with worship, find out what she needed to stay.

Callie might not be his, but he’d do whatever it took to keep her here.

“Twenty,” she whispered, absolutely limp against his thighs.

Thorpe had no doubt her head was floating. Her defiance was gone. Her ass throbbed a fiery red. Her cunt seeped a sweet musk. His hand tingled. His mouth watered.

Just like the last time he’d spanked her, he was dying to fuck her. Like the last two years of avoiding every opportunity to touch her had never existed.

Letting out a harsh breath, Thorpe dragged his stinging palm over her burning backside, slowly soothing out the ache.

“Time to apologize, pet.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Her voice was slurred.

Callie sounded mostly sincere. He smiled, despite the shitty mess he found himself in.

How long could he keep this girl believing that he didn’t want her with every breath he drew?

On the other hand, what else could he do? Melissa had upended his world after she’d promised to love him until death parted them, then suddenly served him with divorce papers. And that just topped the stinking pile of shit. As much as he adored Callie, he couldn’t risk his heart, especially for a woman with one foot out the door.

Minus any easy answers, Thorpe gathered the pliant beauty into his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder. With his chest tight and aching, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, savoring her nearness.

“What did Sean say to upset you?”

“That he loves me.”

Thorpe winced. He’d known that, but hearing her admit it still jabbed him. He forced himself to smooth his features and lifted her chin with one hand. “Why did that make you cry?”

Slowly, she blinked, opening her eyes, and focusing that dazed blue stare on him. “I shouldn’t love anyone.” Callie lifted her hand and cupped his jaw, smoothing her thumb over his cheek. “But it’s too late. It has been for a long time.”

His heart lurched. Jesus, her feelings weren’t a surprise, not really. The unspoken emotions between them had been the neon billboard in the room for years.

He wrapped her hand in his and drew it away from his face. “You have feelings for Kirkpatrick, too?”

“Yes.” Her eyes clouded over. Tears leaked out. “I’m so confused.”

Of course she was. She didn’t have the life experience to deal with this shit. Hell, he was significantly older and he didn’t feel equipped to handle it, either.

Sean’s words haunted him. She needs tender guidance. Thorpe had guided her, all right. But he’d never been able to do it tenderly. Boundaries and protection he could give her without compromising his heart, but seeing the love in her eyes now as she pressed her fragile body against him . . . Everything about her was killing his resolve to remain aloof.

“Callie, pet. You can’t leave me.” His voice croaked, and an unfamiliar sting prickled his eyes.

He slammed his lids down. Damn it, he could not afford this weakness.

“Better for you if I do.” She sounded so damn sad.

Thorpe shook his head, holding her closer. “You’d ruin me, pet. In fact, I think you already have.”

Callie threw her arms around him, her breath warm against his neck. He gripped her tighter. Normally, he’d wish he hadn’t spilled his guts . . . but he would try if any bit of the truth kept her with him.

“You’ll be my biggest regret,” she whispered.

Goddamn it, that hurt.

Maybe he should simply admit that he knew she was a fugitive. Almost as quickly, Thorpe dismissed the idea. If she was insistent on running now, he suspected that divulging what he knew would only make Callie more determined to flee.

He held her tighter, taking in everything that made her uniquely Callie. The firm little curves of her body, those long lashes against her fair cheeks, her fingers digging into his shirtfront as if seeking reassurance. This close, he smelled her citrus shampoo and the remnants of the hair color he knew she used as a disguise. Her signature pink polish colored her petite toes, spritzed with glitter. And the soft little shudders of her body as she cried ripped out his heart.