Page 198 of Whistle

“Red.”

After that, the room fell silent. I moved around, pulling a bottle of lube and a bottle of lotion out of a drawer and tossing them on the bed. I went to the kitchen and got a glass of water and put it on the nightstand. Then I went to the bathroom and washed my hands.

When I came back, Bodhi was trembling slightly.

“Turn around.”

He did, shuffling a little because of his pants.

“Are you ready for your spanking?”

“No. I’ll never let you spank me,” he professed, but even as he spoke the denial, he nodded his head in assent.

Eyes narrowing, I lowered myself onto the foot of the bed, feet flat on the floor. “Is that so?”

“Get bent, Daddy.”

It was the use of the D-word that made me sure this was part of his game and he was remembering weeks ago when I’d told him I wouldn’t force him but I would make him if he wanted.

“The only one getting bent right now is you,” I said, hardening my voice. “Bent right over my knee.”

His hard dick jerked beneath the hot-pink material. Yeah. He needed this.

I crooked my finger at him. “Come here.”

He took a step and nearly stumbled, cock bobbing beneath the lace. Frustrated, he pushed at the pants so he could walk.

I tsked. “No. Leave them exactly as I had them.”

“I can’t walk,” he complained.

I stared at him, unblinking, until he pulled them back up so the band was tight around his thighs.

Laying my palms on my thighs, I watched him awkwardly close the distance between us. His cheeks flamed, the flush spreading all the way to the back of his neck, which was on full display because he no longer had any hair.

His eyes went everywhere but on me, and I knew he felt vulnerable and exposed.

Good.

The second he was standing in front of me, I took a moment to appreciate the diamond stud winking in his navel, the way the pink straps hugged his hips, and the way his dick strained against the lace.

After dragging my eyes over him, I turned my face, almost dismissing him, not looking at him at all. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the loss of my attention, wanting it back even though having it was embarrassing as hell.

He lasted only a minute before whimpering lightly. The whimper turned into a gasp when I snatched him off his feet and turned him over my knees, facedown in my lap.

His feet scrambled for purchase, but it was difficult to find because the band of his pants kept him from spreading his thighs wide. The soft material of the crop top rode up as he wiggled, his stomach and chest brushing against my jeans.

One hand grasped the comforter and the other dangled toward the floor.

Using my arm, I adjusted him, settling him so he was exactly where I wanted him, ass in the air, pelvis flush against my thighs.

“You sure?” I asked, checking in one last time.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

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