Page 38 of Balthazar's Fire

Things are serious between you and Cherie, then?

It was impossible to infer tone on a device, but Balthazar knew Sebastian well enough to know his brother never judged. If there was any intonation in his query, it was likely to be intrigue, rather than disapproval.

“Is everything okay, sir?” Cherie asked as she supped at her coffee. “I see you got dressed?”

Her slim eyebrow cocked, suggesting resentment at the disparity that he’d asked her to be naked while choosing to don his joggers.

“Not dressed,” he corrected. “Only half dressed, and don’t give me that expression, young lady, or the threat I mentioned earlier will come to fruition.”

“Wh-what does that mean?” she stuttered.

Balthazar grinned, enjoying the panic flashing in her wonderful eyes. “It means you might find yourself over my knee.”

It had been an eternity since Balthazar had delivered a punishment to a beautiful woman, but the prospect of Cherie breaking the dry spell was mesmerizing.

“Young lady?” she parroted, apparently intentionally ignoring his threat as she placed down her cup.

“Absolutely.” Balthazar grinned. “You’re younger than me.”

“Am I?” she queried, looking him up and down.

“Almost certainly.” Balthazar didn’t know for a fact, but one look at the gorgeous woman in his kitchen verified his accuracy. “I’m thirty-seven, and I’m guessing you’re around ten years my junior.”

“Thirty-seven?” Her eyes widened. “I’d have put you around my age, sir.”

“Which is?” he probed, conscious that he would never normally ask a lady for her age, but now that the matter was raised, he was keen for clarification.

“I’ll be turning thirty years old soon,” she answered.

“Then your answer is very kind.” Reaching for her face, he stroked the side of her cheek. “I’m definitely older.”

“Okay, but…” Pausing, her cheeks burned with fresh heat as his fingers grazed over them. “What did you mean by the rest of your sentence?”

This will be interesting.

It was the first time Cherie had even acknowledged Balthazar’s spanking inference, and while he hadn’t set out to mention corporal punishment over breakfast, Balthazar was glad that he had. He’d always relished the chance to tan the backside of a rueful but consenting woman and couldn’t think of anyone better to spank than Cherie.

Putting down his phone on the counter, he ensured he had Cherie’s full attention.

“I mean, I have a proven track record of spanking the bottoms of willful women who don’t demonstrate the appropriate level of respect.”

“What?” she demanded breathlessly. “You’ve sp-spanked them?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed, gazing into her eyes and trying to decide if she was merely stunned by his statement, outright disgusted, or secretly enthralled. Of course, there was the tantalizing possibility that Cherie could be all three. She had shown a great willingness to cede to him last night, but suggesting a physical rebuke was another step down the path of her submission, and even for those women who openly enjoyed being spanked, Balthazar had certainly known some who were confused and conflicted by their desires.

He would do well to take his foot off the gas and judge her responses carefully, and yet as her breaths became labored it was obvious that Cherie was at least interested in the idea.

“And they just let you?” Her brow rose as though it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.

“Yes, he replied. “They let me, but only in a calm and controlled way. For some of us, giving and receiving a spanking can be as alluring as it can be painful.”

“I think, sir…” She sounded unsure as she met his eyes. “That’s easy for you to say because I’m guessing you like to give, rather than receive.”

His balls contracted at the way she made that sound— all breathy and full of promise.

“Also true,” he agreed. “But I handle corporal punishment with the same grace I manage pleasure. You’ll get what you need, when you need it.”

“I will?”

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