Page 33 of Addiction

The brush whipped down on her bared bottom, this time drawing only a wince from her lips.

“Thank you, sir.” The words came in a rush as she pushed her forehead against the seat.

His fingers trailed an invisible line along the length of her spine to her shoulder and massaged the creeping tautness there.

“Three.” He struck her right cheek that time, observing the impact, before he rapidly added the fourth swat to the left. “And four.”

“Thank you, sir.” She pulled in a languid breath, peering over her shoulder at him.

“Are you okay?” He held the brush against her ass as he asked.

“Yes, sir.” Unbelievably, her lips tugged into a tiny smile. “I’m okay.”

“One more then.” He winked at her. “Shall I make this one count, little girl?”

“Yes, sir.” She sucked her lower lip between her teeth as her head fell forward again. “Go ahead.”

He grinned at her compliance, uncertain which lucky star he’d been born under to discover such an attractive and astonishing woman, let alone persuade her to engage in something as red-hot as the spanking.

“Here you go.”

He scraped the brush over her tender skin before raising it and bringing it down hard upon both cheeks. She rose at the strength of the final impact, blowing out the breath she’d been holding as his free palm pushed her gently back to the sofa.

“Okay, little girl.” He cast the brush to the other side of the couch. “It’s done, and I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Thank fuck.” Her breaths were labored as her voice broke, and heaving in air, a low sob caught in her throat.

“Come here.” Tucker reached for her, encouraging her from his lap and into his arms.

She went to him wordlessly, burying her hot face into the crook of his neck as her tears fell. Wrapping her in his embrace, he cradled her like a child.

Neither of them spoke as she released her emotion, but holding her, Tucker couldn’t help but feel as though something had shifted. She’d ceded to the brush when she could have resisted, and he’d acknowledged a rush of feelings he’d never known before. Yes, he was proud of her surrender, but more than that, knowing he’d been responsible for pushing her so low, he wanted to lift her gently back from the depths and love her.

His heart skipped a beat as the idea reverberated.

He wanted to love her.

I do love her.

Tension knotted in his chest until it was painful, and the hand supporting the back of her head splayed at the sensation.

He loved her.

There, he’d admitted it to himself at least, but there was no way he could confess it to the woman unraveling on his lap. He’d done this to her, after all, had insisted on the punishment because he’d been triggered by her quip. What she needed now was care, not pointless platitudes.

“Ella.” In the end, his hoarse whisper splintered the silence. He’d waited until her sobs had died away and her breathing had returned to normal before he attempted to stir her. “What do you need?” It was a crazy question from the man who’d just taken a hairbrush to her backside, but he couldn’t hide his concern any longer.

She rose from his chest, her hair matted against her face and her eyes red and swollen when they found his, yet he couldn’t remember her ever looking better. The woman before him wasn’t as polished and perfect-looking as the one he’d collected bound in the sleeping bag. Her submission and the way she’d suffered for him in the last hour meant she was exponentially more than that, easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“I don’t know.” She sniffed. “That brush hurt like hell, sir. Especially that last strike.”

“I know.” He wanted to kiss her again, to snake his tongue inside her mouth and let it soothe away some of the pain, but he hesitated, unsure if she wanted the caress. “You did so fucking well, little girl.”

“Thank you.” The corners of her mouth twitched at his praise. “I wanted to make you proud.”

His heart swelled at her breathy admission. “You more than achieved that. I’ve never wanted you more.”

“Really?”

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