Page 56 of Rousing Renee

“Making myself available for you if you want me. You don’t have to partake, though.”

His hands caressed my skin, and I nibbled them when they got close to my mouth.

“Yeah, but…”

Please. Please. Please, use me.

“I have work to do. I can’t have you distracting me right now. Besides, don’t you have a full agenda today?”

I grunted, irritated.

“Excuse me?” He stopped touching me to study me.

I didn’t want to be studied. Or have any of his reservations. I stood up and walked away.

“Renee!” he called after me.

I ignored him, figuring it was better than screaming in his face. I stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door. Upset I was behaving this way, and that I felt out of sorts was triggering in so many ways. Ezra rattled the doorknob, and I turned on the shower. Getting lost in here would hopefully make everything better. Then maybe I’d come out and be less angry, then could apologize.

I spent an extended time in the shower, toweled off, and moisturized my skin. It should be getting close to time for me to leave for work. When I opened the door, Ezra was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room.

“Hey, I wanted to–”

“Come here.”

I moved close to him, unafraid or worried. “I’m–”

“Bend over my lap.”

That’s when I noticed the difference in him. His eyes were cold, his shirt was gone, he was barefoot in his jeans, and his shoulders were bunched. Not to mention the belt resting in his lap. I licked my lips nervously, yet was excited.

“I was going to apo–”

He reached for my wrist, tugged me down to his level, and wrapped the leather belt around his hand.

“Yes, Sir.” I bent over and turned to look at him.

We were at eye level and stared into one another’s eyes until there was an understanding. I needed this because he’d yet to really claim me in this way. He hadn’t exerted his control in a way that showed me he could handle me in my most defiant state. I needed to know he was worthy of me. Not just able to love the broken and good parts. I needed him to tame me and maintain that control. It’d been too long, and I was questioning everything.

I needed him to settle me. In return, he’d get the fix he needed as well instead of holding back. If what I understood the balance to be in a BDSM relationship was true, the problem was him. Because he was holding back, I couldn’t do my thing and care for him the way he needed me to. It was called power exchange for a reason. He needed something to make him feel in control again, and that was me.

Remember, his power was external. Mine internal. So why was he trying to do my job?

“Shoulders down.”

I relaxed on his lap, arching my back. Without warning, his hand spanked the right cheek of my butt, and it knocked the sass out of my mouth.

“Breathe,” he instructed.

Not realizing I was holding my breath, I exhaled, panting as the pain registered loud and clear.

He struck again, not pausing to grant me time to adjust. Fire raced down my legs and I wanted to run, or block his blows, but his blown eyes told me that if I dared, I’d regret it. I gritted my teeth, and he switched sides until the burn matched. Unable to hold on anymore, I screamed.

My legs trembled, and I gripped his jeans to hold on. He switched to the center, hitting both sides at once. It registered in my groin and stimulated my clit even more than the throbbing sensation that pulsed between my legs.

“Let me up.”

I tried to stand, but my head swam. Ezra adjusted us and I hummed to stay in the moment. He positioned me so I was kneeling in the chair, knees spread, and my head rested on the back of the chair.

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