“What?” Both of his eyebrows shoot up as I take a step back to give him space to do what I told him to.

“You heard me, Brat.”

Elio’s eyes dart past me, towards the gym a few dozen yards away. There’s no one else in the parking lot besides us, and there are other cars blocking anyone from having a full view of us from the gym windows.

“Someone could drive up or leave the gym any time.” There’s a quiver in his voice that might be fear or excitement—probably both.

“I guess you should have thought about that before you caused trouble.” I cross my arms and fix him with a steady, authoritative look. “I’m not going to ask again.”

ELIO

There are plenty of things I never thought I’d do. Pulling my pants down for a spanking in broad daylight is right at the top of the list. I look one way, then the other, my insides thrumming with electricity. My cock has been rock hard since Orion grabbed me and shoved me outside, but it’s dripping now, precum soaking my briefs.

I drop my gaze and start to fiddle with my belt buckle. My cheeks heat and a hot, tight feeling of humiliation writhes in my gut, making my skin prickle and my balls ache.

“I hope you’ll have a good excuse for the cops if they show up to arrest us for indecent exposure,” I mutter, dragging my zipper down.

He lets out a dark chuckle, his arms still crossed over his chest, his eyes dancing with anger and something warmer and deeper underneath. Affection? Is it too bold right now to hope it might be love? Hope like that feels cruel, even if it’s only in my thoughts. But I let it seep in anyway, filling me with a painful need that’s more of a punishment than the public spanking I’m about to get.

“I haven’t seen a cop around Wildcliff since your brother took over the family. Funny coincidence, huh?” He cocks his head, then reaches out to hook two fingers in my pants and underwear, yanking them down. I gasp as my cock springs free. “I told you to quit stalling, Brat.”

My cock jerks, like it can’t decide whether it’s thrilled with the kinky turn of events, or if it wants to shrivel up and hide from anyone who might happen to walk by. Orion doesn’t wait for me to work it out. He wraps a hand around my upper arm and spins me around to face my car. My breath hitches and a hot stinging feeling tightens behind my eyes.

He puts a hand between my shoulder blades and pushes me, but I’m already bending over, ready to take whatever he wants to give me. The hood of my Jaguar is hot from the sunlight and the engine that hasn’t been off for more than a few minutes. It warms my skin and heats my cheek as I sprawl my upper body over it. My belt clangs around my thighs, and the weight of Orion’s hand on my back grounds me.

I thought he was going to tell me it was over between us. “This isn’t going to work for me,” sounded like I wasn’t going to work for him. And I was ready to fall to my knees and beg him if that were the case. My chest feels too tight and somehow hollow at the same time just thinking it, just imagining those words coming out of Orion’s mouth.

I deserve the punishment that’s coming. And I’ll happily take it, because punishment means he’s not done with me. Punishment means he wants me to do better for him next time. It means there will be a next time. Hell, I’ll let him spank me in the UFL ring in front of a million screaming fans if it means this isn’t over between us.

Even though I’m expecting the blow, it still manages to come as a surprise, hard and sharp, searing across my right ass cheek. Shame pulses low in my gut, and I squeeze my eyelids tightly closed.

“You’ve been bad, Elio.” Orion’s voice is quiet, but no less powerful for the lack of volume. If anything, having to strain my ears, listening to hear if he’ll say anything else over the rhythmic sound of a few more sharp swats, only makes it carry more weight. I don’t miss the fact that he didn’t call me Brat that time, either. He called me Elio.

“I’m sorry.” The words rush out on a sob. I didn’t mean to say them, but they pull something loose inside me as soon as they’re free. “I’m sorry,” I rasp again, feeling hot tears leak from my eyes and tumble down my cheeks.

Orion pauses for just a second, then he grunts and rains down another series of hard slaps across both ass cheeks and the backs of my thighs. My skin heats and so does the embarrassment in my stomach.

“What are you sorry for?” He stops spanking and kneads my left cheek roughly. I hiss, my insides vibrating from the pain.

“For…” I squeeze my eyes closed hard again and try to think of the right answer. I’m not sorry for trying to protect him, that’s for damn sure. I guess I’m sorry for getting him mixed up in the Mafia shit, but it’s not as simple as keeping it all separate. I am who I am, and that’s not going to change.

“How about for treating me like I’m some porcelain doll you need to protect?” he suggests, pulling his hand back and cracking it against my ass again. My cock throbs and jerks, and the sting of it ricochets through my organs.

“I… He had a fucking razor blade,” I argue, the shame that bent me over to begin with receding behind a wave of defiance. “Fair enough, I don’t want to fuck with your career, but those underground fights…”

Orion growls and grabs my pants, yanking them back into place and taking a step away from me.

“What am I going to do with you?” he mutters. “Put yourself back together.”

I swallow and push myself off the hood of the car, tucking my dick away and zipping up before turning to face him. I can feel my face glowing from the warmth of the car, along with the lingering humiliation and guilt.

“I am sorry that dipshit took things too far with my warning and caused problems with your career.”

He tilts his head back towards the sky, like he’s praying for patience from a god I’m pretty sure he doesn’t believe in. Then he pinches the bridge of his nose and looks at me again.

“Putting the blame on someone else isn’t going to work for me. I want a real apology. I want you to tell me what you did wrong. Now.”

I shiver and stuff my hands into my pockets. I remember my dad once telling me that apologizing is weak. It’s like rolling over and showing your soft spots to someone who might go ahead and tear your guts out for your trouble. Maybe I’m okay with Orion tearing my guts out. I’ve sure as hell already showed him all of my soft spots. But that doesn’t make the words come any easier.