Page 199 of Whistle

“What’s your safe word?”

“Red.”

The buzz of anticipation, of finally having this brat where I wanted him, of finally claiming him completely, burned through my belly, making me almost lightheaded.

This might have been a punishment, but it was also going to be so, so good.

45

Bodhi

This crazy fucker pulled my pants down and put me in the corner, leaving my ass hanging out. And while I stood there feeling his eyes practically groping me, knowing he was watching me obey his command, my body started to shiver. The kind of shiver that indicated everything inside me was being woken up and frightened at the same time.

I’d never felt anything like it, and I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad.

Then he told me he was going to spank me. Gave me a hot little taste by lighting up my ass with one hard smack. It stung.

I liked it.

What kind of weird, kinky shit was this?

Why did I want more?

I’d always been attracted to men with confidence and had no qualms about taking control. I think because I always felt sort of out of control, a little wild, and able to get away with just about anything, the idea of being put in my place was oddly erotic.

In the past year, I’d spiraled more and more, getting away with stuff I shouldn’t have, putting myself in danger, and losing any kind of stability I had, and it turned my attraction into a craving, which then turned into full-blown need.

I sped past the point of no return, unable to rein myself in and recognize limits. The idea of a daddy became sort of a fantasy, something I’d thought about a lot but never imagined I’d find.

But now here I was, literally over Emmett’s knee, and I didn’t hate it.

In fact, I anticipated the burn of his hand, the edge in his voice, and the law he laid down. Maybe if it were anyone other than Emmett, I’d have already gone, but Em had earned my trust. He’d earned my love.

And if he said he thought I needed this, maybe he was right. God knew I had no idea how to control myself. The night at the bridge was proof. Even after I’d escaped the bar, recognizing I didn’t want to be there, I kept drinking. Wandered the dark streets alone. Sat on the railing of a dangerous bridge.

The second I confirmed my safe word, I practically held my breath, waiting for the first slap. It didn’t come. He just sat there, my ass in the air, the cool of the room raising goose bumps on my lower back and thighs. My dick was uncomfortably hard and pinned against Emmett’s thigh. I wanted to thrust against him, let the friction of the lace and his jeans rub me off.

A light touch distracted me, drawing a long whimper from my lips. I stared unseeing at the comforter as his palm caressed my ass one cheek at a time. The touch was gentle and reverent, the way he palmed the globes, then smoothed over them again and again. I panted as his finger slipped beneath the waistband of the thong, my dick starting to leak.

God, he’d barely even touched me, and I was fucking ready to blow.

His hands rounded my lower buttocks and floated over the backs of my thighs. I tried to widen my legs to give him more surface to touch, but the damn sweats held me in place.

It felt as if I lay there so long that the anticipation coiled into rejection, and I felt the sting of tears at the backs of my eyes.

“This is fucking stupid,” I muttered, rocking back to plant my toes and ready to stand. “You’re all talk?—”

The sound of the first smack reverberated around the room, the hit so solid I felt my ass cheek wobble even after he lifted his palm.

I sucked in a breath, body going taut, and I scrambled to get up.

Using his forearm, he pinned me down and slapped me again, this time on the opposite cheek, the sharp sound making me grunt. White-hot pain cracked over my ass, the burn something fierce.

I collapsed against him with a groan, and he delivered two more solid blows back to back, punching the breath from my lungs and making my back arch.

“I’m doing this because I love you, Bodhi. I need you to listen when I talk to you, when I tell you to do something. I need you to hear me. Do you understand?”

I didn’t know why, but the urge to fight back was right there on my tongue. “Fuck off.”

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